Cymbeline |
From inside the book
Page 110
gentlemen , help , help Mine , and your mistress : -0 , my lord Posthumus ! You ne
'er kill'd Imogen till now : -Help , help !Mine honour'd lady ! Cym . Does the world
go round ? Post . How come these staggers on me ? Pis . Wake , my mistress !
gentlemen , help , help Mine , and your mistress : -0 , my lord Posthumus ! You ne
'er kill'd Imogen till now : -Help , help !Mine honour'd lady ! Cym . Does the world
go round ? Post . How come these staggers on me ? Pis . Wake , my mistress !
Page 177
My mistress is my mistress ; this , myself ; The vigour , and the picture of myouth :
This , before all the world , do I prefer ; This , maugre all the world , will I keep
safe , Or some of you shall sınoke for it in Rome . Dem . By this our mother is for ...
My mistress is my mistress ; this , myself ; The vigour , and the picture of myouth :
This , before all the world , do I prefer ; This , maugre all the world , will I keep
safe , Or some of you shall sınoke for it in Rome . Dem . By this our mother is for ...
Page 263
But , mistress , do you know the French knight that cowers i'the hams ? ; Bawd .
Who ? monsieur Veroles ? Boult . Ay ; he offered to cut a caper at the
proclamation ; but he made a groan at it , and swore he would see her to -
morrow . Bawd .
But , mistress , do you know the French knight that cowers i'the hams ? ; Bawd .
Who ? monsieur Veroles ? Boult . Ay ; he offered to cut a caper at the
proclamation ; but he made a groan at it , and swore he would see her to -
morrow . Bawd .
Page 264
William Shakespeare. Bawd . Thou say'st true , i'faith , so they must : for your
bride goes to that with shame , which is her way to go with warrant . Boult . ' Faith
, some do , and some do not . But , mistress , if I have bargained for the joint ,
Bawd .
William Shakespeare. Bawd . Thou say'st true , i'faith , so they must : for your
bride goes to that with shame , which is her way to go with warrant . Boult . ' Faith
, some do , and some do not . But , mistress , if I have bargained for the joint ,
Bawd .
Page 273
Worse and worse , mistress ; she has here spoken holy words to the lord
Lysimachus . Bawd . O abominable ! Boult . She makes our profession as it were
to stink afore the face of the gods . Baud . Marry , hang her up for ever ! Boult .
Worse and worse , mistress ; she has here spoken holy words to the lord
Lysimachus . Bawd . O abominable ! Boult . She makes our profession as it were
to stink afore the face of the gods . Baud . Marry , hang her up for ever ! Boult .
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Common terms and phrases
Andronicus arms Attendants Bawd bear better blood Boult bring brother comes Corn court daughter dead dear death dost doth emperor Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair father fear follow Fool fortune Gent give Gloster gods gone grace hand hath head hear heart heaven hold honour I'll Italy keep Kent king lady Lavinia Lear leave live look lord Lucius madam Marcus master mean mistress mother nature never night noble peace Pericles poor Post pray present prince queen Roman Rome SCENE sister sons sorrow speak stand sweet sword tears tell thank thee there's thine thing thou thou art thought Titus tongue true villain
Popular passages
Page 81 - Sc. 2. no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 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 378 - Come on, sir; here's the place: — stand still. — How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Page 352 - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these?
Page 307 - This is the excellent foppery of the world ! that, when we are sick in fortune, (often the surfeit of our own behaviour,) we make guilty of our disasters, the sun, the moon, and the stars...
Page 382 - With a more riotous appetite. Down from the waist they are Centaurs, Though women all above : But to the girdle do the gods inherit, Beneath is all the fiends' ; there's hell, there's darkness, there is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench, consumption ; — fie, fie, fie ! pah, pah ! Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination : there's money for thee.
Page 297 - For, by the sacred radiance of the sun ; The mysteries of Hecate, and the night : By all the operations of the orbs, From whom we do exist, and cease to be : Here I disclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity and property of blood, And as a stranger to my heart and me Hold thee, from this, for ever.
Page 296 - Why have my sisters husbands, if they say, They love you, all ? Haply, when I shall wed, That lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall carry Half my love with him, half my care, and duty : Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters, To love my father all.
Page 33 - SONG Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus gins arise His steeds to water at those springs On chalic'd flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes; With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise, Arise, arise.
Page 378 - ... down Hangs one that gathers samphire, — dreadful trade ! Methinks he seems no bigger than his head : The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice ; and yond...
Page 390 - Pray, do not mock me : I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward ; and, to deal plainly, I fear, I am not in my perfect mind. Methinks, I should know you, and know this man ; Yet I am doubtful: for I am mainly ignorant What place this is; and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments; nor I know not Where I did lodge last night : Do not laugh at me; For, as I am a man, I think this lady To be my child Cordelia.
Bibliographic information
| Title | Cymbeline Volume 8 of The Plays of Shakspeare: Printed from the Text of Samuel Johnson, George Steevens, and Isaac Reed, William Shakespeare |
| Author | William Shakespeare |
| Publisher | James Forsyth, Leadenhall Street, and John Greig, High Street, Edinburgh, 1811 |
| Original from | Princeton University |
| Digitized | 22 Feb 2008 |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |