CymbelineMacmillan, 1913 - 192 pages |
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Page 8
... Be brief , I pray you . If the King come , I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure . [ Aside . ] Yet I'll move him To walk this way . I never do him wrong Post . But he does buy my injuries , to 8 Act I Cymbeline.
... Be brief , I pray you . If the King come , I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure . [ Aside . ] Yet I'll move him To walk this way . I never do him wrong Post . But he does buy my injuries , to 8 Act I Cymbeline.
Page 31
... is call'd . When he was here , He did incline to sadness , and oft - times Not knowing why . I never saw him sad . There is a Frenchman his companion , one 56 60 Imo . An eminent monsieur , that , it seems Sc . VI 31 Cymbeline.
... is call'd . When he was here , He did incline to sadness , and oft - times Not knowing why . I never saw him sad . There is a Frenchman his companion , one 56 60 Imo . An eminent monsieur , that , it seems Sc . VI 31 Cymbeline.
Page 45
... never give o'er . First , a very excellent good - con- ceited thing ; after , a wonderful sweet air , with admirable rich words to it ; and then let her consider . 20 25 30 30 SONG . Hark , hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings , And ...
... never give o'er . First , a very excellent good - con- ceited thing ; after , a wonderful sweet air , with admirable rich words to it ; and then let her consider . 20 25 30 30 SONG . Hark , hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings , And ...
Page 46
... never amend . 35 [ Exeunt Musicians . ] Enter Cymbeline and Queen . 2. Lord . Here comes the King . Clo . I am glad I was up so late , for that's the reason I was up so early . He cannot choose but take this service I have done fatherly ...
... never amend . 35 [ Exeunt Musicians . ] Enter Cymbeline and Queen . 2. Lord . Here comes the King . Clo . I am glad I was up so late , for that's the reason I was up so early . He cannot choose but take this service I have done fatherly ...
Page 50
... Clo . Imo . He never can meet more To be but nam'd of thee . That ever hath but clipp'd his body , is dearer In my respect than all the hairs above thee , 140 How now ? Were they all made such men . 50 Act II Cymbeline.
... Clo . Imo . He never can meet more To be but nam'd of thee . That ever hath but clipp'd his body , is dearer In my respect than all the hairs above thee , 140 How now ? Were they all made such men . 50 Act II Cymbeline.
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Common terms and phrases
Arviragus Attendants Augustus Cæsar banish'd Belarius beseech blood Britain Britons brother Cadwal Cæsar call'd Cassibelan cave Cloten conj court Cymbeline's palace dead death do't doth Dowden Enter Cymbeline Enter Pisanio Enter Posthumus Exeunt Exit eyes false father fear fessor of English fool Gaol Gaoler garment Gent gentleman gods Guiderius hast hath hear heart heavens Holinshed honour Iach Iachimo is't Julius Cæsar Jupiter King lady leave Leonatus look lord Lud's madam master Milford-Haven mistress mother noble on't Ph.D Philario Philaster play poison'd Polydore Post pray princely prisoner Prithee Professor of Eng Professor of English Queen Re-enter ring Roman Rome SCENE Shakespeare shalt Sici speak stand sword ta'en tender thank thee there's thing thou art true turn'd villain wager What's WILLIAM ALLAN NEILSON Wilt Winter's Tale
Popular passages
Page 76 - tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword ; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile ; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters.
Page 111 - Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke ; Care no more to clothe, and eat ; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Page 71 - What should we speak of When we are old as you ? when we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December, how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away ? We have seen nothing...
Page 109 - Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...