The Works of Shakespear: As you like it. The taming of the shrew. All's well, that ends well. Twelfth-night: or, What you will |
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Page 68
I saw her hand , she has a leathern hand , A free - stone - colour'd hand ; I verily
did think , That her old gloves were on , but ' twas her hands ; She has a huswife's
hand , but that's no matter ; I say , she never did invent this letter ; This is a ...
I saw her hand , she has a leathern hand , A free - stone - colour'd hand ; I verily
did think , That her old gloves were on , but ' twas her hands ; She has a huswife's
hand , but that's no matter ; I say , she never did invent this letter ; This is a ...
Page 104
Thus it stands : Her eldeft Sister is so curft and shrewd , That till the Father rids his
Hands of her , Mafter , your Love must live a Maid at home ; And therefore has he
closely mew'd ... Master , for my hand , Both our 104 The Taming of the SHREW .
Thus it stands : Her eldeft Sister is so curft and shrewd , That till the Father rids his
Hands of her , Mafter , your Love must live a Maid at home ; And therefore has he
closely mew'd ... Master , for my hand , Both our 104 The Taming of the SHREW .
Page 274
Sir , I have not you by th ' hand . , Sir And . Marry , but you shall have , and here's
my hand . ? Mar. Now , Sir , thought is free : I pray you , bring your hand to th '
buttery - bar , and let it drink , Sir And . Wherefore , sweet heart ? what's your me ...
Sir , I have not you by th ' hand . , Sir And . Marry , but you shall have , and here's
my hand . ? Mar. Now , Sir , thought is free : I pray you , bring your hand to th '
buttery - bar , and let it drink , Sir And . Wherefore , sweet heart ? what's your me ...
Page 316
Not black in my mind , tho ' yellow in my legs : it did come to his hands , and
commands shall be executed . I think , we do know that sweet Roman hand . Oli .
Wilt thou go to bed , Malvolio ? Mal . To bed ? ay , sweet heart ; and I'll come to
thee .
Not black in my mind , tho ' yellow in my legs : it did come to his hands , and
commands shall be executed . I think , we do know that sweet Roman hand . Oli .
Wilt thou go to bed , Malvolio ? Mal . To bed ? ay , sweet heart ; and I'll come to
thee .
Page 345
So far beneath your soft and tender breeding ; ( And since you call'd me master
for so long , ) Here is my hand , you shall from this time be Your master's mistress
. Oli . A fifter , you are she . SC EN E VII . 2 Enter Malvolio . Is this the mad - man ...
So far beneath your soft and tender breeding ; ( And since you call'd me master
for so long , ) Here is my hand , you shall from this time be Your master's mistress
. Oli . A fifter , you are she . SC EN E VII . 2 Enter Malvolio . Is this the mad - man ...
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Popular passages
Page 33 - I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please...
Page 306 - element,' but the word is over-worn. \Exit. Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool ; And to do that well craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye.
Page 32 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale.
Page 25 - Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty: For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities.
Page 63 - Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night ; for good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and being taken with the cramp, was drowned, and the foolish chroniclers of that age found it was — Hero of Sestos. But these are all lies ; men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
Page 21 - 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.