The Works of Shakespeare, Volume 4Macmillan and Company, limited, 1899 |
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Page 61
... Gent . Good morrow . 10 Sec . Gent . Good morrow to your lordship . Cer . Why do you stir so early ? First Gent . Sir , Gentlemen , Our lodgings , standing bleak upon the sea , Shook as the earth did quake ; The very principals did seem ...
... Gent . Good morrow . 10 Sec . Gent . Good morrow to your lordship . Cer . Why do you stir so early ? First Gent . Sir , Gentlemen , Our lodgings , standing bleak upon the sea , Shook as the earth did quake ; The very principals did seem ...
Page 62
... Gent . Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth Your charity , and hundreds call themselves Your creatures , who by you have been restored : And not your knowledge , your personal pain , but even Your purse , still open , hath built ...
... Gent . Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth Your charity , and hundreds call themselves Your creatures , who by you have been restored : And not your knowledge , your personal pain , but even Your purse , still open , hath built ...
Page 63
... Gent . A delicate odour . Cer . As ever hit my nostril . So , up with it . O you most potent gods ! what's here ? a corse ! First Gent . Most strange ! Cer . Shrouded in cloth of state ; balm'd and entreasured With full bags of spices ...
... Gent . A delicate odour . Cer . As ever hit my nostril . So , up with it . O you most potent gods ! what's here ? a corse ! First Gent . Most strange ! Cer . Shrouded in cloth of state ; balm'd and entreasured With full bags of spices ...
Page 64
William Shakespeare Charles Harold Herford. Sec . Gent . Most likely , sir . Cer . Nay , certainly to - night ; For look how fresh she looks ! They were too rough That threw her in the sea . Make a fire within : 80 [ Exit a Servant ...
William Shakespeare Charles Harold Herford. Sec . Gent . Most likely , sir . Cer . Nay , certainly to - night ; For look how fresh she looks ! They were too rough That threw her in the sea . Make a fire within : 80 [ Exit a Servant ...
Page 65
... Gent . Is not this strange ? First Gent . Cer . Most rare . Hush , my gentle neighbours ! Lend me your hands ; to the next chamber bear her . Get linen now this matter must be look'd to , For her relapse is mortal . Come , come ; And ...
... Gent . Is not this strange ? First Gent . Cer . Most rare . Hush , my gentle neighbours ! Lend me your hands ; to the next chamber bear her . Get linen now this matter must be look'd to , For her relapse is mortal . Come , come ; And ...
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Common terms and phrases
Ariel Autolycus Bawd Belarius beseech Bohemia Boult brother Caliban Camillo CLEON Cloten court Cymbeline daughter dead death Dionyza dost doth Enter Exeunt Exit eyes F. W. H. MYERS father fear Fish Gent gentleman give gods grace Guiderius hath hear heart heaven Helicanus Hermione honour Iach Iachimo Imogen king knight lady Leon Leontes live look lord Lysimachus madam Marina master mistress monster Mytilene never noble Pandosto Paul Paulina Pentapolis Perdita Pericles Pisanio play Polixenes Post Posthumus pray prince prince of Tyre prithee Pros Prospero queen Re-enter Roman SCENE Shakespeare shalt Shep Sicilia Skirgiello speak strange swear sweet Sycorax tell Tempest Thaisa thee there's thine thing thou art thou hast thought Trin Trinculo Tyre wife Winter's Tale word
Popular passages
Page 467 - O, it is monstrous, monstrous! Methought, the billows spoke, and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass. Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded; and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, And with him there lie mudded.
Page 216 - Fear no more the frown o' the great: Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Page 462 - The isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep, Will make me sleep again ; and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that, when I wak'd, I cried to dream again.
Page 482 - Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew ; by whose aid, Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm'd The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds, And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt ; the strong-based promontory Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck 'd up The pine and cedar : graves at my command Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em...
Page 482 - Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When he comes back ; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms...
Page 483 - The charm dissolves apace; And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason...
Page 427 - You taught me language ; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you For learning me your language ! Pros.
Page 347 - A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that ; move still, still so, and own No other function : Each your doing, So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, That all your acts are queens.
Page 487 - O, wonder ! How many goodly creatures are there here ! How beauteous mankind is ! O brave new world, That has such people in 't ! Pros. 'Tis new to thee.
Page 214 - With fairest flowers. Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave : thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azured hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...