The Plays of William Shakspeare: Cymbeline |
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Page 3
He , that hath lost her , too : so is the queen , That most desir'd the match : But not a courtier , Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the king's looks , hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at . 2 Gent .
He , that hath lost her , too : so is the queen , That most desir'd the match : But not a courtier , Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the king's looks , hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at . 2 Gent .
Page 6
Look here , love ; This diamond was my mother's : take it , heart ; But keep it till you woo another wise , When Imogen is dead . Poet . How ! how ! another ? You gentle gods , give me but this I have , And sear up my embracements from ...
Look here , love ; This diamond was my mother's : take it , heart ; But keep it till you woo another wise , When Imogen is dead . Poet . How ! how ! another ? You gentle gods , give me but this I have , And sear up my embracements from ...
Page 10
I would have broke mine eye - strings ; crack'd them , but To look upon him ; till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle : Nay , follow'd him , till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air ; and then Ilave ...
I would have broke mine eye - strings ; crack'd them , but To look upon him ; till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle : Nay , follow'd him , till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air ; and then Ilave ...
Page 11
Believe it , sir : I have seen him in Britain : he was then of a crescent note ; expected to prove so worthy , as since he hath been allowed the name of : but I could then have look'd on him without the help of admiration ; though the ...
Believe it , sir : I have seen him in Britain : he was then of a crescent note ; expected to prove so worthy , as since he hath been allowed the name of : but I could then have look'd on him without the help of admiration ; though the ...
Page 23
You look on me ; What wreck discern you in me , Deserves your pity ? Iach . Lamentable ! What ! To hide me from the radiant sun , and solace l'the dungeon by a snuff ? Imo . I pray you , sir , Deliver with more openness your answers To ...
You look on me ; What wreck discern you in me , Deserves your pity ? Iach . Lamentable ! What ! To hide me from the radiant sun , and solace l'the dungeon by a snuff ? Imo . I pray you , sir , Deliver with more openness your answers To ...
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