The Plays and Poems of William Shakspeare, Том 19F. C. and J. Rivington; T. Egerton; J. Cuthell; Scatcherd and Letterman; Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown; Cadell and Davies ... [and 28 others in London], J. Deighton and sons, Cambridge: Wilson and son, York: and Stirling and Slade, Fairbairn and Anderson, and D. Brown, Edinburgh., 1821 |
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Страница 37
... hand withall , 66 ( A French deuice , nay sure a Spanish tricke ) " And speake in print , and say loe at your call " I will remaine your owne both dead and quicke . " A courtier so can give a lobbe a licke , " And dress a dolt in motley ...
... hand withall , 66 ( A French deuice , nay sure a Spanish tricke ) " And speake in print , and say loe at your call " I will remaine your owne both dead and quicke . " A courtier so can give a lobbe a licke , " And dress a dolt in motley ...
Страница 39
... hand therein , And lay those honours on your high desert . What may she not ? She may , -ay , marry , may she , - RIV . What , marry , may she ? GLO . What , marry , may she ? marry with a king , A bachelor , a handsome stripling too ...
... hand therein , And lay those honours on your high desert . What may she not ? She may , -ay , marry , may she , - RIV . What , marry , may she ? GLO . What , marry , may she ? marry with a king , A bachelor , a handsome stripling too ...
Страница 50
... hand , In sign of league and amity with thee : Now fair befal thee , and thy noble house ! Thy garments are not spotted with our blood , Nor thou within the compass of my curse . BUCK . Nor no one here ; for curses never pass The lips ...
... hand , In sign of league and amity with thee : Now fair befal thee , and thy noble house ! Thy garments are not spotted with our blood , Nor thou within the compass of my curse . BUCK . Nor no one here ; for curses never pass The lips ...
Страница 53
... hands , and not our tongues . GLO . Your eyes drop mill - stones , when fools ' eyes drop tears ' : 6 * Quarto 1597 ... hand that thing . " The coincidence was , I believe , merely accidental . MALONE . 7 Your eyes drop mill - stones ...
... hands , and not our tongues . GLO . Your eyes drop mill - stones , when fools ' eyes drop tears ' : 6 * Quarto 1597 ... hand that thing . " The coincidence was , I believe , merely accidental . MALONE . 7 Your eyes drop mill - stones ...
Страница 59
... hands : - I will not reason what is meant hereby , Because I will be guiltless of the meaning . Here are the keys2 ; -there sits the duke asleep : I'll to the king ; and signify to him , That thus I have resign'd my charge to you . 1 ...
... hands : - I will not reason what is meant hereby , Because I will be guiltless of the meaning . Here are the keys2 ; -there sits the duke asleep : I'll to the king ; and signify to him , That thus I have resign'd my charge to you . 1 ...
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ancient ANNE archbishop blood brother BUCK cardinal Catesby CLAR Clarence crown daughter dead death devil doth DUCH Duke of Buckingham Earl Earl of Richmond Earle Richmond editors ELIZ Elizabeth enemies England Enter Exeunt Exit fair farewell father fear folio friends GENT gentleman Gloster grace hand Hanmer hath haue hear heart heaven Holinshed honour horse JOHNSON KATH King Edward King Henry King Henry VI King Richard King Richard III king's lady leaue Lord Chamberlain Lord Hastings Lovel madam MALONE MASON means mother MURD night noble old copy passage play Polydore Virgil pray Prince quarto Queen Rape of Lucrece RICH Richmond royal scene Shakspeare Shakspeare's Shore Sir Thomas Sir Thomas Hanmer sonne soul speak speech STAN Stanley STEEVENS tell thee THEOBALD thou Tower unto WARBURTON wife Wolsey word York
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Страница 10 - I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them...
Страница 425 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And,— when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Страница 55 - And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy ; And, in my company, my brother Gloster : Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches ; thence we look'd toward England, And cited up a thousand heavy times, During the wars of York and Lancaster That had befall'n us.
Страница 448 - After my death I wish no other herald,. 'No other speaker of my living actions, To keep mine honour from corruption, But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Страница 430 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forc'd me Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell...
Страница 56 - I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick ; Who cried aloud, " What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence...
Страница 425 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Страница 305 - I COME no more to make you laugh : things now, That bear a weighty and a serious brow, Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe, Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow, We now present.
Страница 441 - An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; Give him a little earth for charity...
Страница 426 - But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye; I feel my heart new open'd: O, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes