Shakespere's Works, Volume 5D. Appleton, 1897 |
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Pagina 192
... DOLL TEARSHEET . Lords and Attendants ; Officers , Soldiers , Messenger , Porter , Drawers , Beadles , Grooms , etc. A Dancer Speaker of the Epilogue . SCENE England . THE SECOND PART OF KING HENRY THE FOURTH INDUCTION Warkworth ...
... DOLL TEARSHEET . Lords and Attendants ; Officers , Soldiers , Messenger , Porter , Drawers , Beadles , Grooms , etc. A Dancer Speaker of the Epilogue . SCENE England . THE SECOND PART OF KING HENRY THE FOURTH INDUCTION Warkworth ...
Pagina 222
... Doll Tearsheet . Prince . What pagan may that be ? Page . A proper gentlewoman , sir , and a kinswoman of my master's . Prince . Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull . Shall we steal upon them , Ned , at supper ...
... Doll Tearsheet . Prince . What pagan may that be ? Page . A proper gentlewoman , sir , and a kinswoman of my master's . Prince . Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull . Shall we steal upon them , Ned , at supper ...
Pagina 223
... Doll Tearsheet should be some road . Poins . I warrant you , as common as the way between Saint Alban's and London . Prince . How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to - night in his true colours , and not ourselves be seen ? Poins ...
... Doll Tearsheet should be some road . Poins . I warrant you , as common as the way between Saint Alban's and London . Prince . How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to - night in his true colours , and not ourselves be seen ? Poins ...
Pagina 227
... Doll . Doll . I make them ! gluttony and diseases make them ; I make them not . Fal . If the cook help to make the gluttony , you help to make the diseases , Doll : we catch of you , Doll , we catch of you ; grant that , my poor virtue ...
... Doll . Doll . I make them ! gluttony and diseases make them ; I make them not . Fal . If the cook help to make the gluttony , you help to make the diseases , Doll : we catch of you , Doll , we catch of you ; grant that , my poor virtue ...
Pagina 230
... Doll . Pist . Not I : I tell thee what , Corporal Bardolph ; I could tear her . I'll be revenged of her . Page . Pray thee , go down . Pist . I'll see her damned first ; to Pluto's damned lake , to the infernal deep , with Erebus and ...
... Doll . Pist . Not I : I tell thee what , Corporal Bardolph ; I could tear her . I'll be revenged of her . Page . Pray thee , go down . Pist . I'll see her damned first ; to Pluto's damned lake , to the infernal deep , with Erebus and ...
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
Archbishop of York arms art thou Aumerle Bard Bardolph Bishop of CARLISLE blood Blunt Boling Bolingbroke Bushy Colevile cousin crown Davy dead death Doll doth Douglas Duch Duke Duke of Hereford Earl Eastcheap Exeunt Exit faith Falstaff farewell father fear friends Gaunt give Glend Glendower grace grief hand Harry Harry Percy hath head hear heart heaven Hereford hither honour horse Hotspur Jack John of Gaunt JOHN OF LANCASTER King HENRY King Richard Lady Lanc liege live look lord majesty Master Shallow Mortimer Mowb Mowbray never night noble North Northumberland pardon peace Percy Pist Poins pray Prince Prince of Wales prithee Queen Quick Re-enter Rich rogue SCENE Shal Shrewsbury Sir John Sir John Falstaff sorrow soul speak sweet sword tell thee thine thou art thou hast tongue uncle Westmoreland wilt word York Zounds
Populaire passages
Pagina 48 - For within the hollow crown, That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Keeps death his court : and there the antick sits, Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp ; Allowing him a breath, a little scene To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks ; Infusing him with self and vain conceit, — As if this flesh, which walls about our life, Were brass impregnable ; and, humour'd thus, Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell, king!
Pagina 236 - With deaf'ning clamours 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 ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Pagina 236 - 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 ? 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...
Pagina 134 - Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied : for though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted the sooner it wears.
Pagina 174 - tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o
Pagina 103 - My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, and trimly...
Pagina 18 - O, who can hold a fire in his hand, By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? " Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, By bare imagination of a feast ? Or wallow naked in December snow, By thinking on fantastic k summer's heat?
Pagina 48 - I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, Need friends : — Subjected thus, How can you say to me — I am a king ? Car.
Pagina 66 - Rich. Give me the crown. — Here, cousin, seize the crown ; On this side my hand, and on that side, thine. Now is this golden crown like a deep well That owes two buckets filling one another ; The emptier ever dancing in the air, The other down, unseen, and full of water : That bucket down, and full of tears, am I, Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high.
Pagina 75 - God save him ; No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home ; But dust was thrown upon his sacred head, Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience, That had not God, for some strong purpose, steeled The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him.