The Works of Shakespeare ...Estes & Lauriat, 1883 |
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Page 34
... tell me not , for I have heard it all . Here's much to do with hate , but more with love : --- Why then , O brawling love ! O loving hate ! O any thing , of nothing first create ! O heavy lightness ! serious vanity ! Misshapen chaos of ...
... tell me not , for I have heard it all . Here's much to do with hate , but more with love : --- Why then , O brawling love ! O loving hate ! O any thing , of nothing first create ! O heavy lightness ! serious vanity ! Misshapen chaos of ...
Page 35
... Tell me in sadness , who is that you love . Rom . What ! shall I groan , and tell thee ? Ben . Groan ! why , no ; But sadly tell me who . Rom . Bid a sick man in sadness make his will ; A word ill urg'd to one that is so ill ! In ...
... Tell me in sadness , who is that you love . Rom . What ! shall I groan , and tell thee ? Ben . Groan ! why , no ; But sadly tell me who . Rom . Bid a sick man in sadness make his will ; A word ill urg'd to one that is so ill ! In ...
Page 36
... tell it now . Ben . Be rul'd by me ; forget to think of her . Rom . O ! teach me how I should forget to think . Ben . By giving liberty unto thine eyes : Examine other beauties . Rom . " Tis the way To call hers , exquisite , in ...
... tell it now . Ben . Be rul'd by me ; forget to think of her . Rom . O ! teach me how I should forget to think . Ben . By giving liberty unto thine eyes : Examine other beauties . Rom . " Tis the way To call hers , exquisite , in ...
Page 41
... tell you without asking : My mas ter is the great rich Capulet ; and if you be not of the house of Montagues , I pray , come and crush a cup of wine.8 Rest you merry . [ Exit . Ben . At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair ...
... tell you without asking : My mas ter is the great rich Capulet ; and if you be not of the house of Montagues , I pray , come and crush a cup of wine.8 Rest you merry . [ Exit . Ben . At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair ...
Page 42
... tell her age unto an hour . Lady C. She's not fourteen . Nurse . I'll lay fourteen of my teeth , And yet , to my teen ' be it spoken , I have but four , - 1 Teen is an old word for sorrow , and is here used as a sort of play upon four ...
... tell her age unto an hour . Lady C. She's not fourteen . Nurse . I'll lay fourteen of my teeth , And yet , to my teen ' be it spoken , I have but four , - 1 Teen is an old word for sorrow , and is here used as a sort of play upon four ...
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Common terms and phrases
appears beauty Ben Jonson better called Capulet character Collier comedy daughter dead death devil divers dost doth drama Enter Exeunt eyes fair father fear folio Friar give Hamlet hand hast hath hear heart heaven honour Horatio John Shakespeare Juliet King Lady Laer Laertes live look lord love's Love's Labour's Lost Lucrece married matter means Mercutio mind nature never night Nurse old copies Ophelia Osrick passion Passionate Pilgrim play players poem Poet Poet's Polonius Prince printed quarto quarto of 1597 Queen quoth Robert Arden Romeo scene seems sense Shake Snitterfield Sonnets soul speak speech stage Stratford Stratford-upon-Avon sweet Tamburlaine tears tell thee thine thing Thomas Thomas Lucy thou art thought tragedy true Tybalt unto Venus and Adonis William Shakespeare word youth
Popular passages
Page 370 - tis not to come ; if it be not to come, it will be now ; if it be not now, yet it will come : the readiness is all.
Page 277 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of ? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Page 162 - No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell : Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it; for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot If thinking on me then should make you woe. O, if, I say, you look upon this verse When I perhaps compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poor name rehearse, But let your love even with my life decay,...
Page 376 - Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me! If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.
Page 156 - gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow; And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
Page 355 - Alas ! poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio ; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy ; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times ; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is ! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft.
Page 170 - Farewell ! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate. The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing ; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting ? And for that riches where is my deserving ? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving. Thyself thou...
Page 163 - That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou seest the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consum'd with that which...
Page 286 - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
Page 302 - In the corrupted currents of this world Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above; There is no shuffling, there the action lies In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults To give in evidence.