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" And let my liver rather heat with wine Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? "
Tremaine ; Or, The Man of Refinement - Страница 84
по Robert Plumer Ward - 1836
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Merchant of Venice. As you like it

William Shakespeare - 1785 - 402 страници
...wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster f Sleep when he wakes f and creep into the jaundice By being peevish i I tell thee what, Anthonio,...

The Plays of William Shakespeare, Том 2

William Shakespeare - 1803 - 556 страници
...old wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio, — I...

The Plays of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from the Text of ..., Том 3

William Shakespeare - 1803 - 446 страници
...wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio,-rr...

The Plays of William Shakespeare : Accurately Printed from the Text ..., Том 3

William Shakespeare - 1805 - 452 страници
...old wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio,—...

The plays of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustr. of ..., Том 4

William Shakespeare - 1805 - 456 страници
...oKl wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. "Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,—...

The Plays of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from the Text of ..., Том 3

William Shakespeare - 1805 - 576 страници
...wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio, —...

The comedies of The Merchant of Venice, and As you like it, with the notes ...

William Shakespeare - 1805 - 350 страници
...wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? : Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Anthonio,...

The Plays of William Shakespeare: With the Corrections and ..., Том 4

William Shakespeare - 1806 - 460 страници
...wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio, — I...

The Plays of William Shakespeare: With Notes of Various Commentators, Том 3

William Shakespeare - 1806 - 414 страници
...old wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio, —...

The Plays of Shakspeare: Printed from the Text of Samuel Johnson ..., Том 7

William Shakespeare - 1807 - 348 страници
...wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? Sleep, when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio,—...




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