A Midsummer-night's Dream |
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Page 34
... scorn ? Is't not enough , is't not enough , young man , 125 That I did never , no , nor never can , Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius ' eye , But you must flout my insufficiency ? 130 Good troth , you do me wrong , good sooth you do ...
... scorn ? Is't not enough , is't not enough , young man , 125 That I did never , no , nor never can , Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius ' eye , But you must flout my insufficiency ? 130 Good troth , you do me wrong , good sooth you do ...
Page 50
... scorn ? Scorn and derision never come in tears . Look , when I vow , I weep ; and vows so born , In their nativity all truth appears . How can these things in me seem scorn to you , Bearing the badge of faith , to prove them true ? Hel ...
... scorn ? Scorn and derision never come in tears . Look , when I vow , I weep ; and vows so born , In their nativity all truth appears . How can these things in me seem scorn to you , Bearing the badge of faith , to prove them true ? Hel ...
Page 54
... scorn you not ; it seems that you scorn me . Hel . Have you not set Lysander , as in scorn , 220 226 To follow me and praise my eyes and face ? And made your other love , Demetrius , Who even but now did spurn me with his foot , To call ...
... scorn you not ; it seems that you scorn me . Hel . Have you not set Lysander , as in scorn , 220 226 To follow me and praise my eyes and face ? And made your other love , Demetrius , Who even but now did spurn me with his foot , To call ...
Page 55
William Shakespeare John William Cunliffe. Her . Sweet , do not scorn her so . Dem . If she cannot entreat , I can compel . Lys . Thou canst compel no more than she entreat . Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers ...
William Shakespeare John William Cunliffe. Her . Sweet , do not scorn her so . Dem . If she cannot entreat , I can compel . Lys . Thou canst compel no more than she entreat . Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers ...
Page 83
... scorn To meet at Ninus ' tomb , there , there to woo . This grisly beast , which Lion hight by name , The trusty Thisby , coming first by night , Did scare away , or rather did affright ; And , as she fled , her mantle she did fall ...
... scorn To meet at Ninus ' tomb , there , there to woo . This grisly beast , which Lion hight by name , The trusty Thisby , coming first by night , Did scare away , or rather did affright ; And , as she fled , her mantle she did fall ...
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Common terms and phrases
actor art thou Athenian Athens awake bless Bottom Cobweb comedy dance dear death Demetrius dote doth Duke Egeus Enter Robin Goodfellow Exeunt Exit eyes fairy fear flower Flute follow gentle give gone grace hast thou hate hath hear heart Hermia Hippolyta hounds lady lantern lion lish look lord love thee Love's Love's Labour's Lost lovers Lysander masque Master methinks Midsummer-Night's Dream moon Moonshine mounsieur Mustardseed Neilson never Nick Bottom night Night's Dream nine men's morris o'er Oberon Peaseblossom Peter Quince Ph.D Philostrate play pray Professor of Eng Professor of English prologue Puck Pyramus and Thisby Qq Ff queen Quin Re-enter Robin Goodfellow roar Robin Goodfellow SCENE scorn Shakespeare sing sleep Snout Snug speak sport Starveling sweet tell Theobald Theseus things Thisby's thou hast thou wak'st Tita Titania tongue true University unto vows wall WILLIAM ALLAN NEILSON wood
Popular passages
Page 24 - That very time I saw (but thou couldst not), Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all arm'd : a certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned by the west, And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts : But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon, And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
Page 93 - That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide : And we fairies, that do run By the triple Hecate's team, From the presence of the sun, Following darkness like a dream...
Page 78 - And, as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation, and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That, if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy ; Or, in the night, imagining some fear.
Page 6 - But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn, Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
Page 9 - Making it momentary as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream ; Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth. And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold ! The jaws of darkness do devour it up : So quick bright things come to confusion.
Page 53 - All schooldays' friendship, childhood innocence? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key, As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds Had been incorporate. So we grew together Like to a double cherry, seeming parted But yet an union in partition...
Page 18 - Swifter than the moon's sphere; And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be: In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours: I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Page 24 - Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music.
Page 22 - The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain, The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn Hath rotted ere his youth attain'da beard : The fold stands empty in the drowned field, And crows are fatted with the murrain flock...
Page 24 - Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell : It fell upon a little western flower, — Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, — And maidens call it love-in-idleness.