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Abbess ANTIPHOLIS arms art thou Arth BENVOLIO blood brother Buck CAPULET Catesby cousin COVENT GARDEN dead dear death didst dost doth Dromio Duke England Enter EPHESUS Exeunt Exit Exit ENGLISH eyes fair farewell father Faul FAULCONBRIDGE fear France Friar FRIAR LAWRENCE friends gentle GENTLEMEN Ghost give Glost GLOSTER Graved grief GUILDENSTERN Hamlet hand hath hear heart Heaven hither holy honour Horatio Hubert husband Juliet KING JOHN Lady Laer Laertes Lesbia live look lord LORD STANLEY madam majesty marry Mercutio mistress mother ne'er never night Nurse Ophelia OSRICK PANDULPH peace Phil play POLONIUS pray Prince Queen Romeo ROSENCRANTZ SCENE soul speak Stanley sweet sword tears tell thee There's thine thou art thou hast Tibalt tongue Tressel Trumpets villain wife wilt word
Page 32 - I have of late— but wherefore I know not— lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
Page 80 - No, faith, not a jot ; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: As thus; Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust ; the dust is earth ; of earth we make loam : And why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel...
Page 20 - But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres ; Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porcupine...
Page 21 - Haste me to know it; that I, with wings as swift As meditation, or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge.
Page 23 - Do not swear at all ; Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I'll believe thee.
Page 79 - Alas ! poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio ; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy ; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times ; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is ! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft.
Page 26 - Sweet, so would I : Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night ! parting is such sweet sorrow. That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
Page 37 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.