The Works of William Shakespeare, Volume 9Munroe, Francis & Parker, 1812 |
Autres éditions - Tout afficher
The Works of William Shakespeare: The Plays Ed. from the Folio of ..., Volume 9 William Shakespeare Affichage du livre entier - 1861 |
Expressions et termes fréquents
Adonis Bawd bear beauteous beauty beauty's behold blood Boult breast breath cheeks Cleon Colatine daughter dead dear death deeds desire Dionyza dost thou doth face fair fair lord false fame father fear fire flowers foul gentle give grace grief hand hate hath hear heart heaven Henry VI honour Jove king kiss lady leave lips live look lord love's Lucrece Lucretius lust LYSIMACHUS MALONE Marina Menelaus mind Mitylene never night Othello Pentapolis Pericles pity poet poison'd poor praise Priam prince prince of Tyre queen quoth Sextus Tarquinius Shakspeare shalt shame sight sorrow soul speak STEEVENS Stratford sweet Tarquin tears tell Tereus Thaisa thee Theseus thine eye thing thou art thou dost thou hast thought thro thyself time's tongue true unto weep Whilst wife wilt wind words wound youth ΑΝΟΝ
Fréquemment cités
Page 154 - Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, Fool'd by those rebel powers that thee array, Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay ? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend ? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Eat up thy charge ? Is this thy body's end ? Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, And let that pine to aggravate thy store ; Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross ; Within be fed, without...
Page 130 - I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell : Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it ; for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot If thinking on me then should make you woe. O...
Page 98 - gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow; And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
Page 130 - No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell : Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it ; for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, If thinking on me then should make you woe.
Page 17 - Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on so proud a back.
Page 148 - Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait On purpose laid to make the taker mad; Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
Page 100 - What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend? Since every one hath, every one, one shade, And you, but one, can every shadow lend. Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit Is poorly imitated after you ; On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, And you in Grecian tires are painted new...
Page 129 - So am I as the rich, whose blessed key Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since, seldom coming, in the long year set, Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
Page 111 - For then my thoughts, from far where I abide, Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see : Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.
Page 134 - Every thing did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone : She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn, And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, That to hear it was great pity :