What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
answer Attendants bear Beat Beatrice Bene Benedick Biron blood Bora Boyet bring brother Claud Claudio comes Cost Costard count cousin daughter dear death desire Dogb dost doth Duke Enter excellent Exeunt Exit face fair faith father fellow fool give grace hand hang hast hath hear heart Hero hold honour hour I'll John keep King lady leave Leon Leonato letter light live Long look lord madam Malvolio Maria Marry master mean Moth never night peace Pedro play praise pray present prince prove reason SCENE signior sing Sir Toby soul speak stand sure sweet tell thank thee there's thing thou thou art thought tongue true turn Watch wise woman write youth
Page 283 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who...
Page 185 - LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. ACT I. SCENE I.— Navarre. A Park, with a palace in it. Enter the KING, BIEON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN. King. j|ET fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live register'd upon our brazen tombs, And then- grace us in the disgrace of death ; When, spite of cormorant devouring time, The endeavour of this present breath may buy That honour, which shall bate his scythe's keen edge, And make us heirs of all eternity.
Page 127 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it 1 My part of death, no one so true Did share it.
Page 63 - Of every hearer : for it so falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth. Whiles we enjoy it ; but being lack'd and los«t. Why, then we rack ' the value ; then we find The virtue, that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours...
Page 128 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek : she pined in thought, And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like Patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
Page 126 - Duke. O, fellow, come, the song we had last night. Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain ; The spinsters and the knitters in the sun And the free maids that weave their thread with bones Do use to chant it : it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
Page 281 - A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it...
Page 95 - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour ! Enough ; no more : 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.