Much ado about nothing. The marchant of Venice. Love's labour lost. As you like it. Taming the shrew
J. and P. Knapton, S. Birt, T. Longman and T. Shewell, H. Lintott, C. Hitch, J. Brindley, J. and R. Tonson and S. Draper, R. Wellington, E. New, and B. Dod., 1747
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againſt anſwer bear Beat Benedick better Biron blood Boyet break bring brother Cath Changes Claud Claudio comes daughter doth Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair faith father fear firſt follow fool fortune give grace hand hath head hear heart Hero himſelf hold honour houſe I'll John keep King lady leave Leon light live look lord Madam marry maſter mean miſtreſs moſt Moth muſt never night Orla Pedro play pleaſe poor pray preſent Prince reaſon Roſalind ſay SCENE ſee ſelf ſhall ſhe ſhould Signior ſome ſpeak ſtand ſuch ſwear ſweet talk tell thank thee theſe thing thoſe thou thought tongue true turn uſe wife woman young
第324页 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale.
第476页 - Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, And for thy maintenance commits his body To painful labour both by sea and land...
第65页 - Of every hearer; for it so falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, Why, then we rack the value; then we find The virtue, that possession would not show us, Whiles it was ours...
第246页 - But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain; But with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in every power; And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices.
第318页 - Ay, now am I in Arden ; the more fool I : when I was at home, I was in a better place : but travellers must be content.
第312页 - The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say,— This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.
第207页 - Biron they call him; but a merrier man, Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal : His eye begets occasion for his wit; For every object that the one doth catch, The other turns to a mirth-moving jest...
第285页 - A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it...
第167页 - I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er, On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart: If this will not suffice, it must appear That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you, Wrest once the law to your authority: To do a great right, do a little wrong, And curb this cruel devil of his will.