The Plays and Poems of William Shakspeare, Volume 6 |
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Page 10
What swearing is there , ( says Decker , describing the various groupes that daily
frequented the walks of St . Paul ' s Church , ) what shouldering , what justling ,
what jeering , what byting of thumbs , to beget quarrels ! ” The Dead Term , 1608 .
What swearing is there , ( says Decker , describing the various groupes that daily
frequented the walks of St . Paul ' s Church , ) what shouldering , what justling ,
what jeering , what byting of thumbs , to beget quarrels ! ” The Dead Term , 1608 .
Page 23
William Shakespeare James Boswell. She is too fair , too wise ; wisely too fair ,
To merit bliss by making me despair : She hath forsworn to love ; and , in that vow
, Do I live dead , that live to tell it now . Ben . Be rul ' d by me , forget to think of her
...
William Shakespeare James Boswell. She is too fair , too wise ; wisely too fair ,
To merit bliss by making me despair : She hath forsworn to love ; and , in that vow
, Do I live dead , that live to tell it now . Ben . Be rul ' d by me , forget to think of her
...
Page 64
William Shakespeare James Boswell. Fetch me my rapier , boy : - - What ! dares
the slave Come hither , cover ' d with an antick face , To fleer and scorn at our
solemnity ? Now , by the stock and honour of my kin , To strike him dead I hold it
not ...
William Shakespeare James Boswell. Fetch me my rapier , boy : - - What ! dares
the slave Come hither , cover ' d with an antick face , To fleer and scorn at our
solemnity ? Now , by the stock and honour of my kin , To strike him dead I hold it
not ...
Page 73
He heareth not , ( II ) he stirreth not ? , he moveth not ; The ape is dead , and I
must conjure him . - ( IV ) I conjure thee by Rosaline ' s bright eyes , By her high
forehead , and her scarlet lip , By her fine foot , straight leg , and quivering thigh ...
He heareth not , ( II ) he stirreth not ? , he moveth not ; The ape is dead , and I
must conjure him . - ( IV ) I conjure thee by Rosaline ' s bright eyes , By her high
forehead , and her scarlet lip , By her fine foot , straight leg , and quivering thigh ...
Page 96
Ben . Romeo will answer it . MER . Any man , that can write , may answer a letter .
Ben . Nay , he will answer the letter ' s master , how he dares , being dared . MER
. Alas , poor Romeo , he is already dead ! stabbed with a white wench ' s black ...
Ben . Romeo will answer it . MER . Any man , that can write , may answer a letter .
Ben . Nay , he will answer the letter ' s master , how he dares , being dared . MER
. Alas , poor Romeo , he is already dead ! stabbed with a white wench ' s black ...
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ancient appears bear beauty better brother called Capulet cause comes copy daughter dead death doth Duke edition editors Enter eyes face fair father fear folio fool Fortune Friar give hand hart hast hath hear heart heaven hence hope hour Johnson Juliet King lady leave light live look lord lovers Malone married master means nature never night Nurse observed old copy once Orlando Paris passage perhaps play poor pray present prince quarto rest Romeo Romeus Rosalind scene seems sense serve Shakspeare sight speak speech stand stay STEEVENS sure sweet tears tell thee theyr thing thou thou art thought Touch true Tybalt unto young
Popular passages
Page 380 - 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.
Page 52 - Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; The traces, of the smallest spider's web; The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams; Her whip, of cricket's bone ; the lash, of film ; Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm 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...
Page 66 - Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this ; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers
Page 242 - O ! here Will I set up my everlasting rest, And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh.
Page 77 - tis not to me she speaks : Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
Page 84 - O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Page 78 - O ! speak again, bright angel ; for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, And sails upon the bosom of the air.
Page 161 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Page 56 - 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...
Page 409 - 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...