The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare: Winter's tale. Comedy of errors. Macbeth. King John. King Richard II. King Henry IV, part 1Phillips, Sampson, 1850 - 38 pages |
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Page 13
... Art thou my boy ? Mam . Leon . Ay , my good lord . 2 I'fecks ? Why , that's my bawcock . What , hast smutched thy nose ? — They say , it's a copy out of mine . Come , captain , We must be neat ! not neat , but cleanly , captain ; And ...
... Art thou my boy ? Mam . Leon . Ay , my good lord . 2 I'fecks ? Why , that's my bawcock . What , hast smutched thy nose ? — They say , it's a copy out of mine . Come , captain , We must be neat ! not neat , but cleanly , captain ; And ...
Page 14
... Thou dost make possible , things not so held ; Communicat'st with dreams ;-( How can this be ? ) With what's unreal thou coactive art , And fellow'st nothing . Then , ' tis very credent , 3 Thou mayst conjoin with something ; and thou ...
... Thou dost make possible , things not so held ; Communicat'st with dreams ;-( How can this be ? ) With what's unreal thou coactive art , And fellow'st nothing . Then , ' tis very credent , 3 Thou mayst conjoin with something ; and thou ...
Page 17
... thou Hast cleansed my bosom ; I from thee departed Thy penitent reformed ; but we have been Deceived in thy integrity , deceived In that which seems so . Cam . Be it forbid , my lord ! Leon . To bide upon't : Thou art not honest ; or , If ...
... thou Hast cleansed my bosom ; I from thee departed Thy penitent reformed ; but we have been Deceived in thy integrity , deceived In that which seems so . Cam . Be it forbid , my lord ! Leon . To bide upon't : Thou art not honest ; or , If ...
Page 31
... thou art most ignorant by age , Or thou wert born a fool . Camillo's flight , Added to their familiarity , ( Which was as gross as ever touched conjecture , That lacked sight only , nought for approbation , 2 But only seeing , all other ...
... thou art most ignorant by age , Or thou wert born a fool . Camillo's flight , Added to their familiarity , ( Which was as gross as ever touched conjecture , That lacked sight only , nought for approbation , 2 But only seeing , all other ...
Page 37
... thou art woman - tired , 3 unroosted By thy dame Partlet here . - Take up the bastard ; up , I say ; give't to thy crone.1 Take't up , Paul . Unvenerable be thy hands , if thou Forever Tak'st up the princess , by that forced 5 baseness ...
... thou art woman - tired , 3 unroosted By thy dame Partlet here . - Take up the bastard ; up , I say ; give't to thy crone.1 Take't up , Paul . Unvenerable be thy hands , if thou Forever Tak'st up the princess , by that forced 5 baseness ...
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Common terms and phrases
Antipholus arms art thou Aumerle Banquo Bast Bastard bear blood Bohemia Boling Bolingbroke breath brother Camillo castle cousin crown death dost doth Dromio duke duke of Hereford earl England Enter Ephesus Exeunt Exit eyes fair Falstaff father Faulconbridge fear Fleance folio friends Gaunt give grace grief hand Harry Percy hath hear heart Heaven Holinshed honor Hubert John of Gaunt King John King Richard Lady Leon liege live look lord Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff majesty murder never noble Northumberland old copy reads peace Percy play Poins pr'ythee pray prince quarto queen Rich Rosse SCENE Shakspeare shalt shame Shep soul speak stand Steevens swear sweet tell thane thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast thought tongue villain wife Witch word York
Popular passages
Page 206 - Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had lived a blessed time; for from this instant There's nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys: renown and grace is dead ; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
Page 319 - I knit my handkerchief about your brows, (The best I had ; a princess wrought it me,) And I did never ask it you again ; And with my hand at midnight held your head ; And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, Still and anon cheered up the heavy time ; Saying, What lack you ? and, Where lies your grief?
Page 198 - Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o...
Page 65 - But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art, Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which does mend nature, — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
Page 445 - I have been studying how I may compare This prison where I live unto the world: And for because the world is populous, And here is not a creature but myself, I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out. My brain I'll prove the female to my soul; My soul the father: and these two beget A generation of still-breeding thoughts, And these same thoughts people this little world, In humours like the people of this world, For no thought is contented.
Page 552 - Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk ! When that this body did contain a spirit, A kingdom for it was too small a bound ; But now, two paces of the vilest earth Is room enough : — this earth, that bears thee dead, Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.