The Works of William Shakespeare: Much ado about nothing. Love's labour's lost. A midsummer-night's dream. The merchant of Venice. As you like itMacmillan, 1891 |
Im Buch
Ergebnisse 1-5 von 36
Seite 57
... hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion ? 130 Bora . Not so , neither : but know that I have to - night wooed Margaret , the Lady Hero's gentlewoman , by the name of Hero : she leans me out at her mistress ' chamber ...
... hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion ? 130 Bora . Not so , neither : but know that I have to - night wooed Margaret , the Lady Hero's gentlewoman , by the name of Hero : she leans me out at her mistress ' chamber ...
Seite 83
... hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me , That I am forced to lay my reverence by , And , with grey hairs and bruise of many days , Do challenge thee to trial of a man . I say thou hast belied mine innocent child ; Thy slander hath ...
... hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me , That I am forced to lay my reverence by , And , with grey hairs and bruise of many days , Do challenge thee to trial of a man . I say thou hast belied mine innocent child ; Thy slander hath ...
Seite 84
... hast kill'd my child : If thou kill'st me , boy , thou shalt kill a man . Ant . He shall kill two of us , and men indeed : But that's no matter ; let him kill one first ; Win me and wear me ; let him answer me . Come , follow me , boy ...
... hast kill'd my child : If thou kill'st me , boy , thou shalt kill a man . Ant . He shall kill two of us , and men indeed : But that's no matter ; let him kill one first ; Win me and wear me ; let him answer me . Come , follow me , boy ...
Seite 86
... hast mettle enough in thee to kill care . Bene . Sir , I shall meet your wit in the career , an you charge it against me . I pray you choose another subject . Claud . Nay , then , give him another staff : this last was broke cross . D ...
... hast mettle enough in thee to kill care . Bene . Sir , I shall meet your wit in the career , an you charge it against me . I pray you choose another subject . Claud . Nay , then , give him another staff : this last was broke cross . D ...
Seite 91
... hast kill'd Mine innocent child ? Bora . Yea , even I alone . Leon . No , not so , villain ; thou beliest thyself : Here stand a pair of honourable men ; A third is fled , that had a hand in it . I thank you , princes , for my ...
... hast kill'd Mine innocent child ? Bora . Yea , even I alone . Leon . No , not so , villain ; thou beliest thyself : Here stand a pair of honourable men ; A third is fled , that had a hand in it . I thank you , princes , for my ...
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Anon Antonio Armado Bailey conj Bass Bassanio Becket conj Benedick Biron Boyet Bulloch conj Capell conj Claud Claudio Collier Costard Daniel conj Demetrius doth ducats Duke Dyce Enter Exeunt Exit eyes F₁F2 fair fairy father Ff Q2 Ff Q3Q4 fool gentle give Gould conj grace Hanmer hast hath hear heart Hermia Hero Hudson Jackson conj Johnson conj Keightley conj King Kinnear conj lady Laun Launcelot Leon Leonato Lettsom conj line in Qq lord Lorenzo Lysander madam Malone marry master Moth never night Pedro Philostrate Pompey Pope Portia pray Puck Pyramus Q Ff Q₁ Q₂ Ff Qq F₁ Qq Ff Quarto Quin Re-enter reading Rosalind Rowe Rowe ed SCENE Shylock Signior speak Staunton conj swear sweet tell thee Theobald conj Theseus Thisby Venice Walker conj Warburton word
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 345 - I hate him for he is a Christian ; But more for that in low simplicity He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
Seite 384 - Hath not a Jew eyes ? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is ? If you prick us, do we not bleed ? if you tickle us, do we not laugh ? If you poison us, do we not die ? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge ? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian,...
Seite 474 - 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.
Seite 306 - The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was.
Seite 475 - That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish ; and, indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heaved forth such groans, That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting; and the big round tears Coursed one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase ; and thus the hairy fool, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears. Duke S. But what said Jaques ? Did he not moralize this spectacle ? 1...
Seite 473 - 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.
Seite 489 - And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags: Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more '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.
Seite 302 - My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew'd, so sanded ; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; Crook-knee'd and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls ; Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly : Judge, when you hear.