Merchant of Venice. As you like it. All's well that ends well. Taming of the shrewCharles Whittingham, 1826 |
其他版本 - 查看全部
常見字詞
aglets Antonio Baptista Bass Bassanio BERTRAM better Bian Bianca Bion BIONDELLO Cotgrave Count daughter doth ducats Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair father fool forest of Arden fortune gentleman give Gratiano Grumio hast hath hear heart heaven Helen honour Hortensio Jessica Kate Kath KATHARINA King knave lady Lafeu Laun Launcelot look lord Love's Labour's Lost Lucentio madam maid Malone marry master means Merchant of Venice mistress musick Nerissa never old copy reads Orlando Padua Parolles Petruchio play Portia pray ring Rosalind Rousillon Salan Salar SCENE Servant Shakspeare Shakspeare's Shylock Signior Sirrah speak Steevens swear sweet tell thee thing thou art Touch Tranio Troilus and Cressida unto Venice Vincentio wife word young youth
熱門章節
第 49 頁 - Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions ? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is ? if you prick us, do we not bleed ? if you tickle us, do we not laugh ? if you poison us, do we not die ? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge ? if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian,...
第 129 頁 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons' difference : as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say, This is no flattery : these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.
第 95 頁 - The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark When neither is attended, and I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren.
第 49 頁 - He hath disgraced me, and hindered me of half a million ; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies ; and what's his reason ? I am a Jew : Hath not a Jew eyes ? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions ? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is ? if you prick...
第 16 頁 - Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habitation which your prophet the Nazarite conjured the Devil into. I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following, but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you.
第 20 頁 - Shylock, we would have moneys : ' you say so ; You, that did void your rheum upon my beard And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur Over your threshold : moneys is your suit. What should I say to you ? Should I not say ' Hath a dog money ? is it possible A cur can lend three thousand ducats...
第 17 頁 - How like a fawning publican he looks ! I hate him for he is a Christian ; But more for that in low simplicity He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
第 149 頁 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress
第 103 頁 - Love in my bosom like a bee, Doth suck his sweet; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast, My kisses are his daily feast; And yet he robs me of my rest: Ah, wanton, will ye?
第 143 頁 - twill be eleven/ And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe And then from hour to hour, we rot and rot, And thereby hangs a tale.