The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes : Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected, with Notes, Explanatory, and Critical, Volume 8C. Hitch and L. Hawes, J. and R. Tonson, B. Dod, G. Woodfall, J. Rivington, R. Baldwin, T. Longman, S. Crowder and Company, W. Johnson, C. Corbet, T. Lownds, and T. Caslon, 1762 |
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Página 10
... Exeunt Prince and Capulet , & c . La . Mon. Who fet this ancient quarrel new abroach ; Speak , nephew , were you by , when it began ? Ben . Here were the fervants of your adverfary , And your's clofe fighting , ere I did approach ; I ...
... Exeunt Prince and Capulet , & c . La . Mon. Who fet this ancient quarrel new abroach ; Speak , nephew , were you by , when it began ? Ben . Here were the fervants of your adverfary , And your's clofe fighting , ere I did approach ; I ...
Página 12
... Exeunt . Ben . Good - morrow , coufin . Rom . Is the day so young ? Ben . But new ftruck nine . Rom . Ah me , fad hours feem long ! Was that my father that went hence fo fast ? Ben . It was : what fadnefs lengthens Romeo's hours ? Ro ...
... Exeunt . Ben . Good - morrow , coufin . Rom . Is the day so young ? Ben . But new ftruck nine . Rom . Ah me , fad hours feem long ! Was that my father that went hence fo fast ? Ben . It was : what fadnefs lengthens Romeo's hours ? Ro ...
Página 14
... Exeunt . Enter Capulet , Paris , and Servant . Cap . And Montague is bound as well as I , In penalty alike ; and ' tis not hard For men fo old as we to keep the peaae . Par . Of honourable reck'ning are you both , And , pity ' tis , you ...
... Exeunt . Enter Capulet , Paris , and Servant . Cap . And Montague is bound as well as I , In penalty alike ; and ' tis not hard For men fo old as we to keep the peaae . Par . Of honourable reck'ning are you both , And , pity ' tis , you ...
Página 15
... Exeunt Capulet and Paris . Serv . Find them out whofe names are written here ? -It is written , that the Shoemaker fhould meddle with his yard , and the Taylor with his laft , the Fisher with his pencil , and the Painter with his nets ...
... Exeunt Capulet and Paris . Serv . Find them out whofe names are written here ? -It is written , that the Shoemaker fhould meddle with his yard , and the Taylor with his laft , the Fisher with his pencil , and the Painter with his nets ...
Página 17
... [ Exeunt . Your Lady's Love againft fome other Maid ] But the Comparison was not betwixt the Love that Romeo's Miftrefs paid him , and the Perfon of any other young Woman : but betwixt Romeo's Mistress herself , and fome other that fhould ...
... [ Exeunt . Your Lady's Love againft fome other Maid ] But the Comparison was not betwixt the Love that Romeo's Miftrefs paid him , and the Perfon of any other young Woman : but betwixt Romeo's Mistress herself , and fome other that fhould ...
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The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies ... William Shakespeare Visualização completa - 1740 |
The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes ; Collated with the ..., Volume 8 William Shakespeare Visualização completa - 1740 |
Termos e frases comuns
againſt Benvolio Brabantio Caffio Capulet Clown Cyprus dead dear death Defdemona Denmark doft thou doth Duke Emil Enter ev'n Exeunt Exit eyes faid fair Farewel father feems feen fenfe fhall fhew fhould firft flain fleep fome Fortinbras foul fpeak Friar Lawrence ftand ftill fuch fure fweet fword gentlemen give Hamlet hath hear heart heav'n himſelf honeft Horatio houfe huſband Iago is't itſelf Juliet King lady Laer Laertes lago look Lord Madam Mantua marry Mercutio moft Moor moſt muft murder muſt myſelf night Nurfe Nurſe Ophelia Othello Perfon poifon Polonius pray Quarto Queen reafon reft Rodorigo Romeo SCENE ſhall ſhe ſpeak tell thee thefe there's theſe thing thofe thou art to-night Tybalt uſe villain whofe wife William Shakespeare yourſelf
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 32 - What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O! be some other name: What's in a name?
Página 190 - What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unus'd.
Página 251 - That I did love the Moor to live with him, My downright violence and storm of fortunes May trumpet to the world ; my heart's subdued Even to the very quality of my lord : I saw Othello's visage in his mind ; And to his honours, and his valiant parts, Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
Página 210 - I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come ; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing. Hor. What's that, my lord? Ham. Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i
Página 114 - ... uncle, My father's brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules: within a month, Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married.
Página 175 - In the corrupted currents of this world Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice; And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law. But 'tis not...
Página 160 - Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.
Página 120 - Are most select and generous, chief in that. Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
Página 66 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale ; look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Página 36 - Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: And yet no further than a wanton's bird; Who lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.