The works of Shakespear [ed. by H. Blair], in which the beauties observed by Pope, Warburton and Dodd are pointed out, together with the author's life; a glossary [&c.]. |
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Ęgeon Antigonus Antipholis art thou Arth Bertram beseech better Bithynia blood brother Camillo Count dear death dost thou doth Dromio Duke Enter Ephesus Ev'n Exeunt Exit eyes faid fair father Faulc Faulconbridge fool foul France Gent gentleman give hand hath hear heart heav'n honour Hubert husband Illyria in't James Gurney John King King John knave Lady lise lofe look Lord Madam maid Malvolio marry master Melun mistress mother never night noble Pandulph peace Phil poor pr'ythee pray Prince purpofe Queen Rousillon SCENE sear sellow Shep shew Sicilia Sir Andrew Sir Andrew Ague-cheek Sir Toby sire sirst speak swear sweet tell thee there's thine thofe thou art thou hast thoufand thyself to't tongue whofe wise your's
Popular passages
Page 332 - 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.
Page 338 - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Page 59 - The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together : our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.
Page 254 - But nature makes that mean; so over 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 Which does mend nature — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
Page 243 - I would, there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty ; or that youth would sleep out the rest: for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting.
Page 82 - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.