A Concordance to Shakespeare: Suited to All the Editions, in which the Distinguished and Parallel Passages in the Plays of that Justly Admired Writer are Methodically Arranged. To which are Added, Three Hundred Notes and Illustrations, Entirely NewG.G.J. and J. Robinson, 1787 - 470 ページ |
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... Lear , A. 4 , S. 6 . Lear , A. 4 , S. 6 . Winter's Tale , A. 4 , S. 3 . Profperity's the very bond of love ; Whose fresh complexion , and whofe heart together , Affliction alters . -What's gone , and what's past help , Should be paft ...
... Lear , A. 4 , S. 6 . Lear , A. 4 , S. 6 . Winter's Tale , A. 4 , S. 3 . Profperity's the very bond of love ; Whose fresh complexion , and whofe heart together , Affliction alters . -What's gone , and what's past help , Should be paft ...
15 ページ
... Lear , A. 2 , S. 4 . The pleasant'ft angling is to fee the fish Cut with her golden oars the filver stream , And greedily devour the treacherous bait . Much ado about nothing , A. 3 , S. 1 . ANSWER . The answer is as ready as a borrow'd ...
... Lear , A. 2 , S. 4 . The pleasant'ft angling is to fee the fish Cut with her golden oars the filver stream , And greedily devour the treacherous bait . Much ado about nothing , A. 3 , S. 1 . ANSWER . The answer is as ready as a borrow'd ...
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... Lear , A. 3 , S. 2 . Never did captive with a freer heart Caft off his chains of bondage , and embrace His golden uncontrol'd enfranchisement , More than my dancing foul doth celebrate This feast of battle with mine adversary . Richard ...
... Lear , A. 3 , S. 2 . Never did captive with a freer heart Caft off his chains of bondage , and embrace His golden uncontrol'd enfranchisement , More than my dancing foul doth celebrate This feast of battle with mine adversary . Richard ...
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... Lear , A. 2 , S. 4 . My lord and mafter loves you ; O , fuch love Could be but recompens'd , though you were crown'd The nonpareil of beauty ! Twelfth Night , A. 1 , S. 5 . ' Tis beauty truly blent , whofe red and white Nature's own ...
... Lear , A. 2 , S. 4 . My lord and mafter loves you ; O , fuch love Could be but recompens'd , though you were crown'd The nonpareil of beauty ! Twelfth Night , A. 1 , S. 5 . ' Tis beauty truly blent , whofe red and white Nature's own ...
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... Lear , A. 1 , S. 1 . For Andrew , if he were opened , and you find fo much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea , I'll eat the rest of the anatomy . Twelfth Night , A. 3 , S. 2 . Here is your husband , like a mildew'd ear ...
... Lear , A. 1 , S. 1 . For Andrew , if he were opened , and you find fo much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea , I'll eat the rest of the anatomy . Twelfth Night , A. 3 , S. 2 . Here is your husband , like a mildew'd ear ...
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againſt All's Antony and Cleopatra beſt blood Coriolanus Cymbeline death doft doth expreffion eyes faid fear feems fenfe fhall fhew fhould fignify firſt fleep fome fool forrow foul fpeak fpirit ftand ftill fuch fuppofe furely fweet fword Gentlemen of Verona grief Hamlet hath heart heaven Henry IV Henry V. A. Henry VI Henry VIII himſelf honour itſelf JOHNSON Julius Cæfar King John Lear lord Love's Labour Loft Meafure for Meaſure means Merchant of Venice Midfummer Night's Dream moft moſt muft muſt myſelf noble o'er obferve Othello paffage paffion praiſe prefent reafon Richard Richard II Shakeſpeare ſhall ſhe ſhould read ſpeak ſpeech ſtand ſtate STEEVENS tears Tempeft thee thefe themſelves theſe thing thofe thoſe thou art thouſand Timon of Athens tongue Troilus and Creffida Twelfth Night uſe virtue WARBURTON whofe Whoſe Winter's Tale word
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343 ページ - Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid. Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut , Made by the joiner squirrel , or old grub , Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers...
12 ページ - As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.
67 ページ - 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...
162 ページ - O God! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run, How many make the hour full complete; How many hours bring about the day; How many days will finish up the year; How many years a mortal man may live.
298 ページ - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass: and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ. Yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?
14 ページ - Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by it ? Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty.
139 ページ - element,' but the word is over-worn. \Exit. Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool ; And to do that well craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye.
61 ページ - Cowards die many times before their deaths ; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.
463 ページ - His nature is too noble for the world : He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his mouth : What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent ; And, being angry, does forget that ever He heard the name of death.
94 ページ - True, I talk of dreams ; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.