The Plays & Poems of Shakespeare: Twelfth night. Much ado about nothing. As you like itH:O. Bohn, 1857 |
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Страница 9
... poor brother ! and so , perchance , may he be . Cap . True , madam : and , to comfort you with chance , Assure yourself , after our ship did split , When you , and that poor number saved with you , Hung on our driving boat , I saw your ...
... poor brother ! and so , perchance , may he be . Cap . True , madam : and , to comfort you with chance , Assure yourself , after our ship did split , When you , and that poor number saved with you , Hung on our driving boat , I saw your ...
Страница 35
... Poor lady , she were better love a dream . Disguise , I see , thou art a wickedness , Wherein the pregnant enemy 2 does much . How easy is it , for the proper - false3 In women's waxen hearts to set their forms ! Alas , our frailty is ...
... Poor lady , she were better love a dream . Disguise , I see , thou art a wickedness , Wherein the pregnant enemy 2 does much . How easy is it , for the proper - false3 In women's waxen hearts to set their forms ! Alas , our frailty is ...
Страница 36
... poor Olivia breathe ! O Time , thou must untangle this , not I : It is too hard a knot for me to untie . [ Exit . SCENE III . A room in Olivia's house . Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW AGUR - CHEEK . Sir To . Approach , sir Andrew ...
... poor Olivia breathe ! O Time , thou must untangle this , not I : It is too hard a knot for me to untie . [ Exit . SCENE III . A room in Olivia's house . Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW AGUR - CHEEK . Sir To . Approach , sir Andrew ...
Страница 47
... poor corpse , where my bones shall be thrown : A thousand thousand sighs to save , Lay me , O , where Sad true lover never find my grave , To weep there . Duke . There's for thy pains . Clown . No pains , sir ; I take pleasure in ...
... poor corpse , where my bones shall be thrown : A thousand thousand sighs to save , Lay me , O , where Sad true lover never find my grave , To weep there . Duke . There's for thy pains . Clown . No pains , sir ; I take pleasure in ...
Страница 63
... poor are to be proud ! If one should be a prey , how much the better To fall before the lion , than the wolf ! [ clock strikes . The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.- Be not afraid , good youth ! I will not have you : And , yet ...
... poor are to be proud ! If one should be a prey , how much the better To fall before the lion , than the wolf ! [ clock strikes . The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.- Be not afraid , good youth ! I will not have you : And , yet ...
Често срещани думи и фрази
Antonio Audrey Beatrice better Borachio brother Celia Clau Clown cousin daughter dear Don John Don Pedro dost thou doth Duke F Exeunt Exit eyes Fabian fair faith father fellow fool forest forest of Arden fortune Friar gentle gentleman give grace hand hath hear heart Hero hither honor Illyria Jaques lady Leonato live look lord madam Malvolio Maria marriage marry master Master constable Messina mistress never niece night Olivia Orlando Orsino Phebe pr'ythee prince Rosalind SCENE Sebastian SHAK signior Benedick sing sir Andrew SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK SIR TOBY BELCH sir Topas soul speak swear sweet tell thank there's thing thou art thou hast to-morrow tongue Touch troth TWELFTH NIGHT Viola wilt woman word young youth
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Страница 47 - ... away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O ! prepare it ; My part of death no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, • On my black coffin let there be strown ; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown : A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O ! where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there.
Страница 277 - twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale.
Страница 7 - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.
Страница 282 - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound.
Страница 281 - Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel, And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school : and then, the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress
Страница 282 - Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances, And so he plays his part.
Страница 272 - Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither ; Here shall ye see No enemy, But winter and rough weather Who doth ambition shun, . And loves to live i...
Страница 261 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons' difference : as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say, This is no flattery : these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Страница 283 - Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c.
Страница 49 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek : she pined in thought ; And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.