Works: Tempest. Two gentlemen of Verona. Merry wives of Windsor. Measure for measure. Comedy of errors. Much ado about nothing. Love's labour's lost. A midsummer-night's dream. The merchant of Venice. As you like it. Taming of the shrew. All's well that ends well. Twelfth night, or What you will. Winter's tale. King JohnG. Routledge, 1889 |
From inside the book
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Page 12
... gone . No , it begins again . ARIEL sings . Full fathom five thy father lies ; Of his bones are coral made ; Those are pearls that were his eyes : Nothing of him that doth fade , But doth suffer a sea - change Into something rich and ...
... gone . No , it begins again . ARIEL sings . Full fathom five thy father lies ; Of his bones are coral made ; Those are pearls that were his eyes : Nothing of him that doth fade , But doth suffer a sea - change Into something rich and ...
Page 13
... gone forth , I'll make you The queen of Naples . Pro . Soft , sir ; one word more.- They are both in either's powers ; but this swift business I must uneasy make , lest too light winning Make the prize light . - One word more ; I charge ...
... gone forth , I'll make you The queen of Naples . Pro . Soft , sir ; one word more.- They are both in either's powers ; but this swift business I must uneasy make , lest too light winning Make the prize light . - One word more ; I charge ...
Page 17
... gone . Seb . Sir , you may thank yourself for this great loss , That would not bless our Europe with your daughter , But rather lose her to an African ; Where she , at least , is banish'd from your eye , Who hath cause to wet the grief ...
... gone . Seb . Sir , you may thank yourself for this great loss , That would not bless our Europe with your daughter , But rather lose her to an African ; Where she , at least , is banish'd from your eye , Who hath cause to wet the grief ...
Page 20
... gone . Then , tell me , Claribel . Who's the next heir of Naples ? Seb . Ant . She that is queen of Tunis : she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life ; she that from Naples Can have no note , unless the sun were post , ( The man i ...
... gone . Then , tell me , Claribel . Who's the next heir of Naples ? Seb . Ant . She that is queen of Tunis : she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life ; she that from Naples Can have no note , unless the sun were post , ( The man i ...
Page 29
... gone , He shall drink nought but brine ; for I'll not show him Where the quick freshes are . Ste . Trinculo , run into no further danger : interrupt the monster one word further , and , by this hand , I ' ll turn my mercy out of doors ...
... gone , He shall drink nought but brine ; for I'll not show him Where the quick freshes are . Ste . Trinculo , run into no further danger : interrupt the monster one word further , and , by this hand , I ' ll turn my mercy out of doors ...
Common terms and phrases
Angelo art thou Bast Beat Benedick better Biron blood Boyet brother Caius Claud Claudio COSTARD daughter dear death dost thou doth ducats Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair faith father Faulconbridge fear fool Ford gentle gentleman give grace Gremio hand hath hear heart heaven Hermia hither honour husband Illyria Isab John Kath King knave lady Laun Leon Leonato look lord Lucio Lysander madam maid Malvolio marry master master doctor mistress Moth never night pardon Pedro Pompey pray prince prithee Proteus Puck Re-enter Rosalind SCENE servant Shylock signior Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK soul speak Speed swear sweet tell thank thee there's Theseus thine thou art thou hast thou shalt Thurio tongue Tranio troth true unto villain What's wife woman word
Popular passages
Page 793 - O, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. — This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Page 464 - 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 not 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.