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Anne Arden Beau Beauchamp believe Charon child comes Count cousin dare daughter dear devil doctor Enter Eurydice Exit fate father feel Felipa fellow fortune George girl give Governor Grif Gulnare hand happy head hear heard heart heaven honour hope I'll Julian keep Lady Clara leave letter live look Lord Lord List Louise madam married matter mean meet Michael Mirza Miss Chat Modish morning never night once Orpheus Oswald Pequillo perhaps play Pluto poor Poplin pray present Rivers Rosa Rosalind Sally SCENE Scraggs SERVANT Sir Mat Sir Matthew soon soul speak sure talk tell thee there's thing thou thought Tragala true Victorine waiting wife wish woman young Zorayda
Page 7 - But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes ; Again she falls, again she dies...
Page 118 - 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 8 - Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing ; To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring.
Page 125 - And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; But you at your sick service had a prince. Nay, you may think my love was crafty love And call it cunning : do, an if you will: If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, Why then you must.
Page 126 - This royal infant (Heaven still move about her!) Though in her cradle, yet now promises Upon this land a thousand , thousand blessings , Which time shall bring to ripeness : she shall be (But few now living can behold that goodness) A pattern to all princes living with her, And all that shall succeed.
Page 15 - If mortals who cannot exist upon air Could see us at dinner, ye gods, how they'd stare ; See us hydrogen quaff and on oxygen fare, Singing, ' Oh, the roast beef of Olympus, And oh, the Olympic roast beef.
Page 126 - Shakspeare, that, take him for all in all, we shall not look upon his like again.
Page 103 - And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead; Go to thy death-bed, He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow All flaxen was his poll, He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan: God ha