The plays of william shakespeare. |
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Page 42
Sweet , good night , This bud of love by fummer's ripening breath May prove a
beauteous flower , when next we me Good night , good night - ás sweet Repose
and Reft Come to thy heart , as that within my breaft ! .. Rom . O , wilt thou leave
me ...
Sweet , good night , This bud of love by fummer's ripening breath May prove a
beauteous flower , when next we me Good night , good night - ás sweet Repose
and Reft Come to thy heart , as that within my breaft ! .. Rom . O , wilt thou leave
me ...
Page 58
Sweet , sweet , sweet nurse , tell me , what says my love ? Nurse . Your love says
like an honest gentleman , And a courteous , and a kind , and a handsome , And ,
I warrant , a virtuous – where is your mother ? Jul . Where is my mother ?
Sweet , sweet , sweet nurse , tell me , what says my love ? Nurse . Your love says
like an honest gentleman , And a courteous , and a kind , and a handsome , And ,
I warrant , a virtuous – where is your mother ? Jul . Where is my mother ?
Page 113
Sweet flw'r , with flow'rs thy bridal bed I firew : O woe ! thy canopy is duft and
stones , Which with sweet water nightly I will dew , Or wanting that , with tears
distill'd by moans . The obsequies which I for thee will keep , Nightly shall be to
strew ...
Sweet flw'r , with flow'rs thy bridal bed I firew : O woe ! thy canopy is duft and
stones , Which with sweet water nightly I will dew , Or wanting that , with tears
distill'd by moans . The obsequies which I for thee will keep , Nightly shall be to
strew ...
Page 403
SCENE VIII . Enter Othello . Look , where he comes ! Not Poppy , nor Mandragora
, Nor all the drowsy Syrups of the world , ? Shall ever med'cine thee to that sweet
Sleep , Which thou owedst yesterday . Otb . Ha ! False ? To me ! to me ! Iago .
SCENE VIII . Enter Othello . Look , where he comes ! Not Poppy , nor Mandragora
, Nor all the drowsy Syrups of the world , ? Shall ever med'cine thee to that sweet
Sleep , Which thou owedst yesterday . Otb . Ha ! False ? To me ! to me ! Iago .
Page 460
Ĉmil . Caso , my Lord , hath kill'd 7.30 A young Venetian , called Roderigo .
PoYb Oth . Roderigo kill'd ? and Cassie kill'd ? Ĉmil . No , Caffo is not kill'd . Olh .
Not Casio kill'd ? Then murder's out of tune , And sweet revenge grois harsh . Def
.
Ĉmil . Caso , my Lord , hath kill'd 7.30 A young Venetian , called Roderigo .
PoYb Oth . Roderigo kill'd ? and Cassie kill'd ? Ĉmil . No , Caffo is not kill'd . Olh .
Not Casio kill'd ? Then murder's out of tune , And sweet revenge grois harsh . Def
.
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Common terms and phrases
Ĉmil affection againſt appears bear believe better blood cauſe Clown comes common dead dear death doth earth editions Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall father fear firſt follow give Hamlet hand hath head hear heart heav'n himſelf hold Iago keep kind King lady lago leave light lines live look Lord married matter means mind Moor moſt muſt nature never night Nurſe Othello paſſage play poor Pope pray quarto Queen reaſon Romeo ſaid ſame ſay SCENE ſee ſeems ſenſe Shakeſpeare ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome ſoul ſpeak ſpeech ſtand ſuch ſweet tell thee theſe thing thoſe thou thought tion true uſed WARB WARBURTON whoſe wife young
Popular passages
Page 202 - Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit/ and all for nothing! For Hecuba! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her...
Page 240 - Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, And batten on this moor ? Ha ! have you eyes ? You cannot call it love, for at your age The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment ; and what judgment Would step from this to this ? Sense, sure, you have.
Page 255 - What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unus'd.
Page 27 - She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners...
Page 230 - ... stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Page 165 - I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres...
Page 29 - I fear, too early : for my mind misgives, Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels...
Page 344 - My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty: To you I am bound for life, and education; My life, and education, both do learn me How to respect you ; you are the lord of duty, I am hitherto your daughter: But here's my husband; And so much duty as my mother show'd To you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge that I may profess Due to the Moor, my lord.
Page 41 - Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs.
Page 469 - No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice...