What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Angelo Author bear believe better bring brother Caius changes Clown comes daughter death defire doth Duke Efcal Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair Fairies fame father fear feems fenfe fhall fhould fleep follow fome Ford foul fpeak Friar fuch fweet gentle give gone grace hand hath head hear heart heav'n Hoft honour hope I'll Ifab John keep King Lady Laun leave live look Lord Lucio mafter marry mean meet miftrefs mind moft muft myfelf nature never night once Page play Poet poor pray Protheus Prov Queen Quic SCENE Shal Silvia Speed tell thank thee thefe thing thou thou art thought true Valentine whofe wife woman
Page 28 - All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour : treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, .Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.
Page 42 - Hence, bashful cunning; And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! I am your wife, if you will marry me ; If not, I'll die your maid : to be your fellow You may deny me ; but I'll be your servant Whether you will or no.
Page 63 - And mine shall. Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not myself One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art?
Page xxviii - The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted.
Page 95 - Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music.
Page 96 - Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell : It fell upon a little western flower, — Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, — And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
Page 150 - If we shadows have offended. Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here, While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: If you pardon, we will mend.
Page 35 - Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.