The Plays of William Shakespeare, Volume 3T. Bensley, 1803 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 48
Page 3
... Leon . We are tougher , brother , Than you can put us to't . Pol . No longer stay . Pol . Leon . One seven - night longer . Leon . We'll part the time between's then : and in Very sooth , to - morrow . I'll no gain - saying . Pol ...
... Leon . We are tougher , brother , Than you can put us to't . Pol . No longer stay . Pol . Leon . One seven - night longer . Leon . We'll part the time between's then : and in Very sooth , to - morrow . I'll no gain - saying . Pol ...
Page 4
... Leon . Tongue - ty'd , our queen ? speak you . Her . I had thought , sir , to have held my peace , until You had drawn oaths from him , not to stay . You , sir , Charge him too coldly : Tell him , you are sure , All in Bohemia's well ...
... Leon . Tongue - ty'd , our queen ? speak you . Her . I had thought , sir , to have held my peace , until You had drawn oaths from him , not to stay . You , sir , Charge him too coldly : Tell him , you are sure , All in Bohemia's well ...
Page 6
... Leon . Is he won yet ? Her . He'll stay , my lord . Leon . At my request , he would not . Hermione , my dearest , thou never spok'st To better purpose . Her . Never ? Leon . Never , but once . Her . What ? have I twice said well ? 6 ...
... Leon . Is he won yet ? Her . He'll stay , my lord . Leon . At my request , he would not . Hermione , my dearest , thou never spok'st To better purpose . Her . Never ? Leon . Never , but once . Her . What ? have I twice said well ? 6 ...
Page 7
... Leon . Why , that was when Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death , Ere I could make thee open thy white hand , And clap thyself my love ; then didst thou utter , I am yours for ever . Her . It is Grace , indeed . - Why ...
... Leon . Why , that was when Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death , Ere I could make thee open thy white hand , And clap thyself my love ; then didst thou utter , I am yours for ever . Her . It is Grace , indeed . - Why ...
Page 8
... Leon . Ay , my good lord . I'fecks ? Why , that's my bawcock . What , hast smutch'd thy nose ? - They say , it's a copy out of mine . Come , captain , We must be neat ; not neat , but cleanly , captain : And yet the steer , the heifer ...
... Leon . Ay , my good lord . I'fecks ? Why , that's my bawcock . What , hast smutch'd thy nose ? - They say , it's a copy out of mine . Come , captain , We must be neat ; not neat , but cleanly , captain : And yet the steer , the heifer ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Antigonus Antipholus Autolycus Banquo Baptista Bertram Bian Bianca Bion Biondello blood Camillo Cleomenes Clown Count daughter death dost doth Dromio Duke Enter Ephesus Exeunt Exit eyes fair father fear Fleance Gent gentleman give Grumio hand hath hear heart heaven Hermione honour Hortensio husband i'the Kate Kath Katharina king knave knock Lady Lady Macbeth Leon look lord Lucentio Macbeth Macd Macduff madam maid marry master mistress Narbon never noble o'the Padua Petruchio Pisa Polixenes poor pr'ythee pray queen Re-enter Rosse Rousillon SCENE Servant Shakspeare Shep Sicilia signior Sirrah sister Siward sleep speak sweet Syracuse tell thane thee There's thine things thou art thou hast Tranio unto villain Vincentio What's wife wilt Winter's Tale Witch Мас
Popular passages
Page 54 - Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake : Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Page 69 - I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that ; move still, still so, And own no other function : each your doing, So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, That all your acts are queens.
Page 17 - Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off: And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind.
Page 18 - Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both : They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me : I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
Page 13 - Come, come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here; And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood, Stop up the access and passage to remorse; That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect, and it...
Page 8 - Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven : the fated sky Gives us free scope ; only, doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
Page 22 - Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtain'd sleep ; witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate's offerings ; and wither'd murder, Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it.
Page 68 - O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon ! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty ; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength — a malady Most incident to maids...
Page 80 - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Page 84 - I have almost forgot the taste of fears : The time has been, my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek ; and my fell of hair * Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir As life were in't : I have supp'd full with horrors ; Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me.