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Baptijla Bertram besore better Bian Bianca Bion Biondello Bojkos brother call'd Cath Catharina Clown comes consess Count daughter dost doth Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes faid fair farewel father fool fortune gentleman give Grumio hand hath hear heart heav'n hither honour Hortensio i'th Illyria is't Kate King knave Lady lise look Lord lov'd Lucentio Madam maid Malvolio marry master mistress Narbon never night Olivia Orla Orlando Padua Parolles Petruchio Phebe Pisa pr'ythee pray Rosalind Rousillon SCENE sear sellow servant Signior Sir Andrew Sir Andrew Ague-cheek Sir Toby Sirrah sirst speak swear sweet tell thank thee there's thine thing thou art thou hast thoufand Tranio Vincentio Viola What's wilt wise word young youth
Page 33 - I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please...
Page 306 - element,' but the word is over-worn. \Exit. Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool ; And to do that well craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye.
Page 32 - 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.
Page 25 - Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty: For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities.
Page 63 - Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night ; for good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and being taken with the cramp, was drowned, and the foolish chroniclers of that age found it was — Hero of Sestos. But these are all lies ; men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
Page 21 - 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.