Romeo and Juliet. Hamlet. Othello. Glossarial indexJ. Nichols, 1811 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 68
Page 12
... sweet leaves to the air , Or dedicate his beauty to the sun . Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow , We would as willingly give cure , as know . Enter ROMEO , at a distance . Ben . See 12 ROMEO AND JULIET .
... sweet leaves to the air , Or dedicate his beauty to the sun . Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow , We would as willingly give cure , as know . Enter ROMEO , at a distance . Ben . See 12 ROMEO AND JULIET .
Page 14
... sweet . Farewell , my coz . Ben . [ Going . Soft , I will go along ; An if you leave me so , you do me wrong . Rom . Tut , I have lost myself ; I am not here ; This is not Romeo , he's some other where . Ben . Tell me in sadness , who ...
... sweet . Farewell , my coz . Ben . [ Going . Soft , I will go along ; An if you leave me so , you do me wrong . Rom . Tut , I have lost myself ; I am not here ; This is not Romeo , he's some other where . Ben . Tell me in sadness , who ...
Page 27
... sweet - meats tainted are . Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose , And then dreams he of smelling out a suit : " And sometimes comes she with a tithe - pig's tail , Tickling a parson's nose as ' a lies asleep , Then dreams he of ...
... sweet - meats tainted are . Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose , And then dreams he of smelling out a suit : " And sometimes comes she with a tithe - pig's tail , Tickling a parson's nose as ' a lies asleep , Then dreams he of ...
Page 32
... sweet , convert to bitter gall . [ Erit . Rom . If I profane with my unworthy hand [ To JULIET . This holy shrine , the gentle fine is this , - My lips , two blushing pilgrims , ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss ...
... sweet , convert to bitter gall . [ Erit . Rom . If I profane with my unworthy hand [ To JULIET . This holy shrine , the gentle fine is this , - My lips , two blushing pilgrims , ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss ...
Page 34
... sweet bait from fearful hooks : Being held a foe , he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear ; And she as much in love , her means much less To meet her new - beloved any where : But passion lends them power ...
... sweet bait from fearful hooks : Being held a foe , he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear ; And she as much in love , her means much less To meet her new - beloved any where : But passion lends them power ...
Common terms and phrases
ancient art thou BENVOLIO blood Brabantio CAPULET Cassio Cyprus daughter dead dear death Denmark Desdemona devil dost thou doth Emil EMILIA Enter Erit Exeunt Exit eyes fair faith Farewell father fear Fortinbras friar Friar LAURENCE gentleman Ghost give grief Guil Guildenstern Hamlet hand hath hear heart heaven hither honest honour Horatio i'the Iago is't JOHNSON Juliet kill'd King lady Laer Laertes look lord madam Mantua marry means Mercutio Michael Cassio Montague Moor murder never night noble Nurse o'er Ophelia Othello play POLONIUS pray Prince Queen Roderigo Romeo ROSENCRANTZ ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN SCENE Shakspeare Shakspeare's signifies soul speak STEEVENS sweet sword tell thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast thought to-night Tybalt Venice villain wife wilt word
Popular passages
Page 213 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me ! You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Page 355 - Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls : Who steals my purse steals trash ; 'tis something, nothing ; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed.
Page 136 - It faded on the crowing of the cock. Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long : % And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
Page 150 - Are most select and generous, chief in that. Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all : to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Page 221 - See, what a grace was seated on this brow; Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury, New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man : This was your husband.
Page 190 - I have heard That guilty creatures, sitting at a play, Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ.
Page 193 - To die, to sleep : To sleep : perchance to dream : ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause : there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life...
Page 282 - Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me ! If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.
Page 41 - Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke : but farewell compliment ! Dost thou love me ? I know thou wilt say " Ay ;" And I will take thy word : yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false ; at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs.
Page 140 - Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems. 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, moods...