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
Results 6-10 of 84
Page 26
... Poor worm ! thou art infected ; You look wearily . Fer . No , noble mistress ; ' t is fresh morning with me , When you are by at night . I do beseech you , ( Chiefly , that I may set it in my prayers , ) What is your name ? Mira ...
... Poor worm ! thou art infected ; You look wearily . Fer . No , noble mistress ; ' t is fresh morning with me , When you are by at night . I do beseech you , ( Chiefly , that I may set it in my prayers , ) What is your name ? Mira ...
Page 28
... poor monster ' s my subject , and he shall not suffer indignity . Cal . I thank my noble lord . Wilt thou be pleas'd To hearken once again to the suit I made to thee ? Ste . Marry will I : kneel and repeat it ; I will stand , and so ...
... poor monster ' s my subject , and he shall not suffer indignity . Cal . I thank my noble lord . Wilt thou be pleas'd To hearken once again to the suit I made to thee ? Ste . Marry will I : kneel and repeat it ; I will stand , and so ...
Page 44
... poor isle ; and all of us , When no man was his own . Alon ourselves , Give me your hands : [ To FER . and MIR . Be ' t so ! Amen ! Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart That doth not wish you joy ! Gon . Re - enter ARIEL , with ...
... poor isle ; and all of us , When no man was his own . Alon ourselves , Give me your hands : [ To FER . and MIR . Be ' t so ! Amen ! Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart That doth not wish you joy ! Gon . Re - enter ARIEL , with ...
Page 46
... poor cell where you shall take your rest For this one night ; which ( part of it ) I'll waste With such discourse , as , I not doubt , shall make it Go quick away : the story of my life , And the particular accidents gone by , Since I ...
... poor cell where you shall take your rest For this one night ; which ( part of it ) I'll waste With such discourse , as , I not doubt , shall make it Go quick away : the story of my life , And the particular accidents gone by , Since I ...
Page 53
... Poor wounded name ! my bosom , as a bed , Shall lodge thee , till thy wound be throughly heal'd ; And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss . But twice , or thrice , was Proteus written down : Be calm , good wind , blow not a word away ...
... Poor wounded name ! my bosom , as a bed , Shall lodge thee , till thy wound be throughly heal'd ; And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss . But twice , or thrice , was Proteus written down : Be calm , good wind , blow not a word away ...
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.