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ancient Antigonus Antony and Cleopatra appear Aufidius Autolycus bear beseech blood Bohemia Boswell called Camillo Cominius consul Coriolanus Corioli Cymbeline death doth editors emendation enemy Enter Exeunt eyes father fear give gods hand Hanmer hath hear heart Hermione honour Johnson King Henry lady Lart Lartius Leon Leontes lord Love's Labour's Lost Macbeth Malone Marcius Mason means Menenius mother never noble old copy Othello passage Paul Paulina peace Perdita perhaps play Plutarch Polixenes Pr'ythee Pray prince queen Roman Rome SCENE second folio senate sense Serf Shakspeare Shakspeare's Shep Sicinius signifies speak speech stand Steevens suppose sword tell thee Theobald thing thou art thought Timon of Athens tongue tribunes Troilus and Cressida true Tyrwhitt voices Volces Warburton wife Winter's Tale word worthy
Page 344 - Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean : so, o'er that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. 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 ~\\ hich does mend nature, — change it rather ; but The art itself is nature.
Page 14 - Who deserves greatness Deserves your hate; and your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours swims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust ye! With every minute you do change a mind; And call him noble that was now your hate, Him vile that was your garland.
Page 252 - I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following ; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you.
Page 349 - The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one ! O, these I lack, To make you garlands of; and my sweet friend, To strew him o'er and o'er ! FLO.
Page 219 - If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, That, like an eagle in a dovecote, I Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli : Alone I did it. — Boy ! Auf.
Page 208 - What have you done ? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O my mother, mother ! O ! You have won a happy victory to Rome ; But, for your son, — believe it, O, believe it, — Most dangerously you have with him prevailed, If not most mortal to him.