The Works of William Shakespeare, Volume 6E. Moxon, 1857 |
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Página 8
... tell'st thou me of robbing ? this is Venice ; My house is not a grange . Rod . Most grave Brabantio , In simple and pure soul I come to you . Iago . Zounds , sir , you are one of those that will not serve God , if the devil bid you ...
... tell'st thou me of robbing ? this is Venice ; My house is not a grange . Rod . Most grave Brabantio , In simple and pure soul I come to you . Iago . Zounds , sir , you are one of those that will not serve God , if the devil bid you ...
Página 9
... tell me We have your wrong rebuke . Do not believe That , from the sense of all civility , I thus would play and trifle with your reverence : Your daughter , —if you have not given her leave , — I say again , hath made a gross revolt ...
... tell me We have your wrong rebuke . Do not believe That , from the sense of all civility , I thus would play and trifle with your reverence : Your daughter , —if you have not given her leave , — I say again , hath made a gross revolt ...
Página 18
... tell it : Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances , Of moving accidents by flood and field ; Of hair - breadth scapes i ' the imminent deadly breach ; Of being taken by the insolent foe , And sold to slavery ; of my redemption thence ...
... tell it : Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances , Of moving accidents by flood and field ; Of hair - breadth scapes i ' the imminent deadly breach ; Of being taken by the insolent foe , And sold to slavery ; of my redemption thence ...
Página 24
... tell thee again and again , I hate the Moor : my cause is hearted ; thine hath no less reason . Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him : if thou canst cuckold him , thou dost thyself a pleasure , me a sport . There are many ...
... tell thee again and again , I hate the Moor : my cause is hearted ; thine hath no less reason . Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him : if thou canst cuckold him , thou dost thyself a pleasure , me a sport . There are many ...
Página 28
... tell me of my lord ? Cas . He is not yet arriv'd : nor know I aught But that he's well , and will be shortly here . Des . O , but I fear - How lost you company ? Cas . The great contention of the sea and skies Parted our fellowship ...
... tell me of my lord ? Cas . He is not yet arriv'd : nor know I aught But that he's well , and will be shortly here . Des . O , but I fear - How lost you company ? Cas . The great contention of the sea and skies Parted our fellowship ...
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The Works of William Shakespeare: The Plays Ed. from the Folio of ..., Volume 6 William Shakespeare Visualização completa - 1883 |
Termos e frases comuns
altered Antony Bawd beauty blood Boult Brabantio Cæs Cæsar call'd Cassio Char Charmian Cleo Cleon Cleopatra Cloten Collier's Corrector Cymbeline Cyprus daughter dead dear death Desdemona Dionyza dost doth Emil Enobarbus Enter Eros Exeunt Exit eyes fair false fear fortune foul give gods grace grief GUIDERIUS hand hath hear heart heaven honour Iach Iago Imogen king kiss lady lips live look lord love's Lucrece Lysimachus madam Malone Marina Mark Antony Michael Cassio mistress Mytilene ne'er never night noble old eds Othello Pentapolis Pericles Pisanio Pompey poor Posthumus pray prithee quarto queen quoth Re-enter reading Roderigo SCENE second folio Shakespeare shalt shame sorrow soul speak Steevens sweet tears tell thee thine thing thou art thou hast thought thyself tongue true weep What's wife wilt words
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Página 141 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water ; the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them, the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggar'd all description ; she did lie In her pavilion...
Página 52 - Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls : Who steals my purse steals trash ; 'tis something, nothing ; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed.
Página 314 - Fear no more the frown o' the great: Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Página 596 - Shall I compare thee to a summer's day ? Thou art- more lovely and more temperate : Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date...
Página 91 - It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul — Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars ! — It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood; Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster. Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
Página 77 - Yet could I bear that too ; well, very well : But there, where I have garner'd up my heart ;* Where either I must live, or bear no life ; The fountain from the which my current runs, Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence ! Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads To knot and gender in 1 — turn thy complexion there ! Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin ; Ay, there, look grim as hell P Des.
Página 314 - FEAR no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o...
Página 619 - Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower? O! how shall summer's honey breath hold out, Against the wrackful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong but Time decays? O fearful meditation! where, alack, Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? Or...
Página 101 - No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice : then must you speak Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well ; Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought, Perplex'd in the extreme ; of one whose hand, Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away Richer than all his tribe...
Página 31 - May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas Olympus-high and duck again as low As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die, 'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear, My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate.