The Plays and Poems of Shakespeare,: According to the Improved Text of Edmund Malone, Including the Latest Revisions, : with a Life, Glossarial Notes, an Index, and One Hundred and Seventy Illustrations, from Designs by English Artists, Volume 7Henry G. Bohn, 1844 |
Outras edições - Ver tudo
The Plays and Poems of Shakespeare: According to the Improved Text ..., Volume 7 William Shakespeare Visualização integral - 1842 |
The Plays and Poems of Shakespeare: According to the Improved Text ..., Volume 7 William Shakespeare Visualização integral - 1851 |
The Plays and Poems of Shakespeare: According to the Improved Text of Edmund ... William Shakespeare Pré-visualização indisponível - 2015 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
anon archbishop of York arms art thou Bardolph blood Blunt brother captain CONSTABLE OF FRANCE cousin coward crown dæmon dead death devil Doll doth Douglas duke earl Eastcheap England English Enter KING HENRY Exeunt Exit faith Falstaff father fear France French friends Gadshill give Glen Glendower grace hanged Harfleur Harry Harry Percy hath head hear heart heaven honor horse Host hostess Hotspur Jack Kate Kath knave Lady liege look lord majesty master Mortimer never night noble Northumberland numbers peace Percy Pistol Poins pr'ythee pray PRINCE HENRY PRINCE JOHN prince of Wales rascal Re-enter rogue sack SCENE Scot SHAK Shal Shallow Shrewsbury sir John sir John Falstaff Sirrah soldiers speak sweet sword tell thee thine thou art thou hast unto Westmoreland wilt Worcester Zounds
Passagens conhecidas
Página 202 - 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...
Página 378 - God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires. But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.
Página 331 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead ! In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility ; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger...
Página 287 - On this unworthy scaffold, to bring forth So great an object : Can this cockpit hold The vasty fields of France ? or may we cram Within this wooden O the very casques That did affright the air at Agincourt...
Página 55 - Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand.? come, tell us your reason; what sayest thou to this? Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason, Fal. What, upon compulsion? No; were I at the strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion!
Página 321 - A' made a finer end and went away an it had been any christom* child; a' parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o' the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his fingers...
Página 287 - O, for a muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention ! A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the swelling scene ! Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of Mars ; and, at his heels, Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire, Crouch for employment.
Página 379 - To-morrow is Saint Crispian : ' Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say ' These wounds I had on Crispin's day.
Página 28 - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honor by the locks; So he that doth redeem her thence might wear Without corrival all her dignities: But out upon this half-faced fellowship!
Página 201 - How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! — 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...