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Adriana already answer appeared arms arrival beauty Benson bitter blood Catherine CHAPTER countenance Courtney Courtney's covered cried daughter dear death deep Doge door England entered exclaimed expression eyes face fashionable father fear feelings felt followed fortune gave gazed girl give given glance Gordon hand happiness head hear heard heart heaven honour hope hour human husband interest Julia Justiniani lady leave less letter light lips living look matter means meet ment mind Montalto mother nature never night noble once pain passed Philip present reached received reply returned rose round seemed seen sent side silence smile soon sorrow sound spirit step stood story struck sudden surprise tears tell thing thought tion told tone troops turned Vaughan Venice voice whole young
Page 187 - Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it.
Page 63 - Content!' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.
Page 98 - I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; And therefore thou mayst think my haviour light; But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
Page 255 - To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and, perhaps, Out of my weakness, and my melancholy, (As he is very potent with such spirits,) Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds More relative than this: The play's the thing, Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Page 64 - I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chapfallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing. Hor. What's that, my lord? Ham. Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i
Page 13 - Which we more hunt for than the grace of God ! Who builds his hope in air of your...
Page 3 - Prince! I blush to think what I have said, But fate has wrested the confession from me; Go on, and prosper in the paths of honour, Thy virtue will excuse my passion for thee, And make the Gods propitious to our love.
Page 21 - Not with the living ; They feed upon opinions, errors, dreams, And make 'em truths ; they draw a nourishment Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces ; And, when they see a virtue fortified Strongly above the battery of their tongues, Oh, how they cast to sink it ! and, defeated, (Soul-sick with poison) strike the monuments Where noble names lie sleeping, till they sweat, And the cold marble melt.