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Angelo Author bear believe better bring brother Caius changes Clown comes daughter death doth Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair Fairies fall father fear firſt follow fome Ford Friar gentle give gone grace hand hath head hear heart heav'n himſelf Hoft honour hope houſe I'll John keep kind King Lady Laun leave live look Lord Lucio marry maſter mean meet mind miſtreſs moſt muſt myſelf nature never night once Page play Poet poor pray Protheus Prov Queen Quic reading reaſon ſaid ſay SCENE ſee ſeems ſhall ſhe ſhould Silvia Slen ſome ſpeak Speed ſuch ſweet tell thank thee theſe thing thoſe thou thou art thought true uſe Valentine wife woman
28 ページ - All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour : treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, .Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.
42 ページ - Hence, bashful cunning; And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! I am your wife, if you will marry me ; If not, I'll die your maid : to be your fellow You may deny me ; but I'll be your servant Whether you will or no.
63 ページ - And mine shall. Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not myself One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art?
xxviii ページ - The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted.
95 ページ - Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music.
96 ページ - Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell : It fell upon a little western flower, — Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, — And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
150 ページ - If we shadows have offended. Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here, While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: If you pardon, we will mend.
35 ページ - Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.