The Plays and Poems of William Shakespeare: Printed from the Text of J. Payne Collier, with the Life and Portrait of the Poet, 6±ÇTauchnitz, 1844 |
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1 ÆäÀÌÁö
... on his Post . Enter to him BERNARDO . Ber . Who's there ? Fran . Yourself . Nay , answer me : stand , and unfold Ber . Long live the king ! Fran . VI . Bernardo ? 13 Ber . He . Fran . You come most carefully HAMLE T, , ...
... on his Post . Enter to him BERNARDO . Ber . Who's there ? Fran . Yourself . Nay , answer me : stand , and unfold Ber . Long live the king ! Fran . VI . Bernardo ? 13 Ber . He . Fran . You come most carefully HAMLE T, , ...
5 ÆäÀÌÁö
... post - haste and romage in the land . Ber . I think , it be no other , but e'en so : Well may it sort , that this portentous figure Comes armed through our watch ; so like the king That was , and is , the question of these wars . Hor ...
... post - haste and romage in the land . Ber . I think , it be no other , but e'en so : Well may it sort , that this portentous figure Comes armed through our watch ; so like the king That was , and is , the question of these wars . Hor ...
11 ÆäÀÌÁö
... post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets ! It is not , nor it cannot come to , good ; But break , my heart , for I must hold my tongue ! Enter HORATIo , Bernardo , and MARCELLus . Hor . Hail to your lordship ! Ham . Horatio , - or ...
... post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets ! It is not , nor it cannot come to , good ; But break , my heart , for I must hold my tongue ! Enter HORATIo , Bernardo , and MARCELLus . Hor . Hail to your lordship ! Ham . Horatio , - or ...
154 ÆäÀÌÁö
... post , Stew'd in his haste , half breathless , panting forth From Goneril , his mistress , salutations ; Deliver❜d letters , spite of intermission , Which presently they read : on whose contents , They summon'd up their meiny ...
... post , Stew'd in his haste , half breathless , panting forth From Goneril , his mistress , salutations ; Deliver❜d letters , spite of intermission , Which presently they read : on whose contents , They summon'd up their meiny ...
177 ÆäÀÌÁö
... Post speedily to my lord your husband ; show him this letter : Gloster . - the army of France is landed . Reg . Hang him instantly , Gon . Pluck out his eyes . - Seek out the traitor [ Exeunt some of the Servants . Corn . Leave him to ...
... Post speedily to my lord your husband ; show him this letter : Gloster . - the army of France is landed . Reg . Hang him instantly , Gon . Pluck out his eyes . - Seek out the traitor [ Exeunt some of the Servants . Corn . Leave him to ...
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Antony beseech better blood Brabantio C©¡s C©¡sar Cassio Char Charmian Cleo Cleopatra Cloten Cordelia CYMBELINE Cyprus daughter dead dear death Desdemona Dost thou doth Duke Edmund Emil ENOBARBUS Enter Eros Exeunt Exit eyes farewell father fear fellow fool fortune friends Gent gentleman give Gloster gods grace GUIDERIUS Guildenstern Hamlet hand hath hear heart heaven hither honest honour Horatio Iach IACHIMO Iago Imogen Julius C©¡sar Kent king knave lady Laer Laertes Lear look lord Madam Mark Antony matter Mess Michael Cassio mistress never night noble Othello Parthia Pisanio poison'd POLONIUS Pompey poor Post Posthumus Pr'ythee pray Queen Re-enter Roderigo SCENE soldier soul speak sweet sword tell thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast to-night villain What's
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54 ÆäÀÌÁö - O ! it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings ; who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows, and noise ; I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant ; it out-herods Herod : pray you avoid it.
54 ÆäÀÌÁö - ... twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time, his form and pressure.
55 ÆäÀÌÁö - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
11 ÆäÀÌÁö - tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly.
501 ÆäÀÌÁö - Fear no more the frown o' the great: Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
161 ÆäÀÌÁö - Stain my man's cheeks !— No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall — I will do such things — What they are yet I know not ; but they shall be The terrors of the earth.
100 ÆäÀÌÁö - Alas, poor Yorick! — I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy, he hath 'borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. — Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?
346 ÆäÀÌÁö - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water : the poop was beaten gold ; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them ; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
129 ÆäÀÌÁö - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, (often the surfeit of our own behaviour) we make guilty of our disasters , the sun, the moon, and the stars: as if we were villains by necessity; fools, by heavenly compulsion ; knaves, thieves, and treachers, by spherical predominance ; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary influence, and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on.
54 ÆäÀÌÁö - Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.