Twelfth night. Winter's tale (Google eBook)

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Printed for, and under the direction of, John Bell, 1788
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Page 75 - Say there be ; Yet nature is made better by no mean But nature makes that mean : so, over that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes.
Page 43 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought; And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
Page 77 - I'd have you do it ever: when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too : When you do dance, I wish you A wave o...
Page 75 - You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race : this is an art Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The art itself is nature.
Page 5 - 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 south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour ! Enough ; no more : 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Page 102 - When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain; A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day.
Page 26 - Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on...
Page 33 - O, mistress mine, where are you roaming? O stay and hear ; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low : Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers' meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.

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