The Vale Shakespeare, Հատոր 18Hacon & Ricketts, 1902 |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 48–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ vii
... thou the earl That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here . PORTER . His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard : Please it your honour , knock but at the gate , And he himself will answer . ( Enter Northumberland . ) LORD BARDOLPH ...
... thou the earl That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here . PORTER . His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard : Please it your honour , knock but at the gate , And he himself will answer . ( Enter Northumberland . ) LORD BARDOLPH ...
Էջ ix
... thou report'st it . This thou wouldst say , ' Your son did thus and thus ; Your brother thus : so fought the noble Douglas : ' Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds : But in the end , to stop mine ear indeed , Thou hast a sigh to ...
... thou report'st it . This thou wouldst say , ' Your son did thus and thus ; Your brother thus : so fought the noble Douglas : ' Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds : But in the end , to stop mine ear indeed , Thou hast a sigh to ...
Էջ x
... Thou shak'st thy head , and hold'st it fear or sin To speak a truth . If he be slain , say so ; The tongue offends not that reports his death : And he doth sin that doth belie the dead , Not he which says the dead is not alive . Yet the ...
... Thou shak'st thy head , and hold'st it fear or sin To speak a truth . If he be slain , say so ; The tongue offends not that reports his death : And he doth sin that doth belie the dead , Not he which says the dead is not alive . Yet the ...
Էջ xi
... thou nice crutch ! A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel Must glove this hand : -and hence , thou sickly quoif ! Thou art a guard too wanton for the head Which princes , flesh'd with conquest , aim to hit.- Now bind my brows with ...
... thou nice crutch ! A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel Must glove this hand : -and hence , thou sickly quoif ! Thou art a guard too wanton for the head Which princes , flesh'd with conquest , aim to hit.- Now bind my brows with ...
Էջ xiii
... Thou whoreson mandrake , thou art fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels . I was never manned with an agate till now : but I will inset you neither in gold nor silver , but in vile apparel , and send you back again to your ...
... Thou whoreson mandrake , thou art fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels . I was never manned with an agate till now : but I will inset you neither in gold nor silver , but in vile apparel , and send you back again to your ...
Common terms and phrases
ARCHBISHOP Archbishop of York bear beseech better blood brother Bullcalf captain Colevile comes cousin crown Davy dead death didst Doll Tearsheet dost doth DRAWER drink earl Eastcheap Enter Falstaff Exeunt Exit faith FANG father fear FEEBLE fellow friends give Gloucestershire grace grief Harry hath hear heart heaven hither honest honour HOSTESS Humphrey of Gloucester John of Lancaster king knave look LORD BARDOLPH Lord Chief Justice Lord Hastings Lord Mowbray Lord of Westmoreland lordship majesty marry Master Bardolph Master Shallow Master Silence merry Mistress MORTON Mouldy MOWBRAY naked weapons never night noble lord NORTHUMBERLAND peace PISTOL POINS pray thee prick PRINCE HENRY PRINCE HUMPHREY PRINCE JOHN PRINCE THOMAS rascal Re-enter rogue SCENE Shadow Shrewsbury sick Sir John Falstaff speak spirit swaggerers sweet sword tell there's thine thing thou art tongue troth unto Wart WARWICK whoreson word young
Սիրված հատվածներ
Էջ lxxvi - The second property of your excellent sherris is, the warming of the blood; which, before cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice...
Էջ v - Open your ears : For which of you will stop The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks ? I, from the orient to the drooping west/ Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold The acts commenced on this ball of earth : Upon my tongues continual slanders ride; The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
Էջ lxxxviii - Laud be to God ! — even there my life must end. It hath been prophesied to me many years, I should not die but in Jerusalem; Which vainly I suppos'd the Holy Land: — But bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie; In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.
Էջ li - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceased; The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, which in their seeds And weak beginnings lie intreasured.
Էջ xlix - O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness...
Էջ xlix - Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads and hanging them With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king ? Then happy low, lie down I Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Էջ lix - I'll ne'er bear a base mind: — an't be my destiny, so; an't be not, so: No man's too good to serve his prince ; and, let it go which way it will, he that dies this year, is quit for the next.
Էջ ciii - I do despise my dream. Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace; Leave gormandizing; know the grave doth gape For thee thrice wider than for other men.
Էջ xlix - Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber ; Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody...
Էջ xlix - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep!