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 1-5 of 79
Page 15
... tongue ! Alon . I prithee spare . Gon . Well , I have done : But yet- Seb . He will be talking . Ant . Which , of be , or Adrian , for a good wager , first begins to crow ? Seb . The old cock . Ant . The cockrel . Seb . Done : the wager ...
... tongue ! Alon . I prithee spare . Gon . Well , I have done : But yet- Seb . He will be talking . Ant . Which , of be , or Adrian , for a good wager , first begins to crow ? Seb . The old cock . Ant . The cockrel . Seb . Done : the wager ...
Page 23
... tongue with a tang , Would cry to a sailor , ' Go hang ; She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch , Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch : Then to sea , boys , and let her go hang . [ Drinks . This is a scurvy tune ...
... tongue with a tang , Would cry to a sailor , ' Go hang ; She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch , Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch : Then to sea , boys , and let her go hang . [ Drinks . This is a scurvy tune ...
Page 28
... tongue in sack : for my part , the sea cannot drown me : I swam , ere I could recover the shore , five - and - thirty leagues , off and on . By this light , thou shalt be my lieutenant , monster , or my standard . Trin . Your lieutenant ...
... tongue in sack : for my part , the sea cannot drown me : I swam , ere I could recover the shore , five - and - thirty leagues , off and on . By this light , thou shalt be my lieutenant , monster , or my standard . Trin . Your lieutenant ...
Page 29
... tongue in thy head . Cal . Within this half - hour will he be asleep ; Wilt thou destroy him then ? Ste . Ay , on mine honour . Ari . This will I tell my master . Cal . Thou mak'st me merry : I am full of pleasure ; · Let us be jocund ...
... tongue in thy head . Cal . Within this half - hour will he be asleep ; Wilt thou destroy him then ? Ste . Ay , on mine honour . Ari . This will I tell my master . Cal . Thou mak'st me merry : I am full of pleasure ; · Let us be jocund ...
Page 31
... tongue ) a kind Pro . Praise in departing . Fran . They vanish'd strangely . Seb . No matter , since They have left their viands behind ; for we have stomachs.- Will ' t please you taste of what is here ? Alon . Not I. Gon . Faith , sir ...
... tongue ) a kind Pro . Praise in departing . Fran . They vanish'd strangely . Seb . No matter , since They have left their viands behind ; for we have stomachs.- Will ' t please you taste of what is here ? Alon . Not I. Gon . Faith , sir ...
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.