The Works of Shakespeare: Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected, Band 3 |
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Several young French Lords , that ferve with Bertram in the Florentine war . Steward , Servants to the Countess of Roufillon . Clown , Countess of Roufillon , mother to Bertram . Famous Helena , daughter to Gerard de Narbon , a famous ...
Several young French Lords , that ferve with Bertram in the Florentine war . Steward , Servants to the Countess of Roufillon . Clown , Countess of Roufillon , mother to Bertram . Famous Helena , daughter to Gerard de Narbon , a famous ...
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This young Gentlewoman had a Father , ( O , that bad ! how fad a paffage ' tis ! ) whofe fkill was almost as great as his honefty ; had it ftretch'd fo far , it would have made nature immortal , and death fhould have play for lack of ...
This young Gentlewoman had a Father , ( O , that bad ! how fad a paffage ' tis ! ) whofe fkill was almost as great as his honefty ; had it ftretch'd fo far , it would have made nature immortal , and death fhould have play for lack of ...
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... my good Lord , Young Bertram . King . Youth , thou bear'ft thy father's face .. Frank nature , rather curious than in hafte , Hath well compos'd thee . Thy father's moral parts May'ft thou inherit too ! Welcome to Paris . Ber .
... my good Lord , Young Bertram . King . Youth , thou bear'ft thy father's face .. Frank nature , rather curious than in hafte , Hath well compos'd thee . Thy father's moral parts May'ft thou inherit too ! Welcome to Paris . Ber .
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It much repairs me To talk of your good father ; in his youth He had the wit , which I can well obferve To day in our young Lords ; but they may jeft , Till their own scorn return to them unnoted , Ere they can hide their levity in ...
It much repairs me To talk of your good father ; in his youth He had the wit , which I can well obferve To day in our young Lords ; but they may jeft , Till their own scorn return to them unnoted , Ere they can hide their levity in ...
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If men could be con- tented to be what they are , there were no fear in marriage ; for young Charbon the puritan , and old Poyfam the papist , howfoe'er their hearts are sever'd in religion , their heads are both one ; they may jout ...
If men could be con- tented to be what they are , there were no fear in marriage ; for young Charbon the puritan , and old Poyfam the papist , howfoe'er their hearts are sever'd in religion , their heads are both one ; they may jout ...
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bear better blood bring brother changes comes Count daughter dear death doth Duke ears Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair faith father fear feems fellow fhall fhould fince fome fool fortune foul fpeak France ftand fuch fweet give gone hand hath hear heart heav'n hold honour hope hour I'll John keep King Lady leave live look Lord Madam mafter Marry mean moft mother muft nature never night Paul peace play poor pray Prince Queen SCENE ſhall ſpeak tell thanks thee thefe there's theſe thine thing thou thou art thought tongue true whofe wife young
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Seite 103 - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.
Seite 396 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form 5 Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Seite 260 - Skulking in corners ? wishing clocks more swift ? Hours, minutes ? noon, midnight ? and all eyes blind With the pin and web,' but theirs, theirs only, That would unseen be wicked ? is this nothing ? Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing; The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing.
Seite 142 - element,' but the word is over-worn. \Exit. Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool ; And to do that well craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye.