What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Alack art thou Bawd Benvolio Boult Burgundy Capulet Cleon Cordelia Corn daughter dead dear death Dionyza doth duke duke of Cornwall Edgar Edmund Enter Ephesus Exeunt Exit eyes fair farewell father fear fellow Fool foul friar Friar Laurence Gent gentleman give Gloster gods gone Goneril grief hath hear heart heaven Helicanus hither honour Juliet Kent king knave lady Lear letter live look lord Lysimachus madam Mantua Marina married master Mercutio mistress Mitylene Montague ne'er never night noble nuncle Nurse Pentapolis Pericles poor Pr'ythee pray prince Prince of Tyre Regan Romeo SCENE Servants shalt sirst speak stand Stew sweet tears tell Thai thee there's thine thing thou art thou hast thou wilt Tybalt Tyre villain weep wife
Page 93 - Thou must be patient; we came crying hither. Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air, We wawl, and cry: — I will preach to thee; mark me. Glo. Alack, alack the day ! Lear. When we are born, we cry, that we are come To this great stage of fools...
Page 52 - O! reason not the need; our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous: Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady; If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, Which scarcely keeps thee warm.
Page 97 - Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath. Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks. And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Page 118 - KENT. Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! he hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer.
Page 19 - O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear...
Page 116 - I'd use them so That heaven's vault should crack. — She's gone for ever ! — I know when one is dead, and when one lives ; She's dead as earth.
Page 46 - These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume...
Page 98 - tis fittest. Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave. — Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.