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anfwer art thou becaufe Brabantio Caffio call'd Capulet caufe Cyprus dead dear death doft doth Duke elfe Enter Ev'n Exeunt Exit eyes faid fair fame farewel father fatire fear feems feen fenfe fhall flain fome foul fpeak fpeech fpirit Friar Friar Lawrence fuch fweet fword gentleman give hall Hamlet hand hath hear heart heav'n himfelf honour Horatio houfe i'th Iago is't itfelf jEmil Juliet King lady Laer Laertes lago logo look Lord Madam madnefs mall Mantua marry Mercutio moft Moor muft murder myfelf night noble Nurfe Ophelia Othello play Poet Polonius pray Quarto Queen reafon Romeo tell thee thefe there's thine thing thofe thou art thought to-night Tybalt villain whofe wife wilt word worfe
Page 235 - tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now ; if it be not now, yet it will come : the readiness is all : Since no man, of aught he leaves, knows, what is't to leave betimes ?
Page 127 - I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres...
Page 181 - Tis now the very witching time of night When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.
Page 189 - Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes? You cannot call it love, for at your age The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment Would step from this to this?
Page 225 - I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come ; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing. Hor. What's that, my lord? Ham. Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i
Page 164 - As made the things more rich; their perfume lost, Take these again; for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
Page 265 - Their dearest action in the tented field, And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself.
Page 35 - 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.
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