Romeo and Juliet. With alterations, and an additional scene: by D. Garrick, as it is performed at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-lane (Google eBook)

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Page 14 - Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid : Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers...
Page 13 - She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners...
Page 21 - Would through the airy region stream so bright, That birds would sing, and think it were not night See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand ! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek ! Jul.
Page 14 - True, I talk of dreams ; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
Page 14 - Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice; Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes; And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again.
Page 24 - My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.
Page 38 - Give me my Romeo: and when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
Page 25 - Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: And yet no further than a wanton's bird; Who lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.
Page 21 - But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she...
Page 54 - Alack, alack, is it not like that I So early waking, what with loathsome smells And shrieks like mandrakes...

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