The Works of William Shakespeare, Volume 2Blackie, 1888 - Manuscripts, English |
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... Thou runaway , thou coward , art thou fled ? Dem . I love thee not , therefore pursue me not . Act III . scene 2. line 442 , 351 Act II . scene 2. line 74 , . 338 Her . Never so weary , never so in woe . • Puck . And here the maiden ...
... Thou runaway , thou coward , art thou fled ? Dem . I love thee not , therefore pursue me not . Act III . scene 2. line 442 , 351 Act II . scene 2. line 74 , . 338 Her . Never so weary , never so in woe . • Puck . And here the maiden ...
Page 18
... thou not second woman in the realm , And the protector's wife , belov'd of him ? Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command , Above the reach or compass of thy thought ? And wilt thou still be hammering3 treachery , To tumble down thy ...
... thou not second woman in the realm , And the protector's wife , belov'd of him ? Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command , Above the reach or compass of thy thought ? And wilt thou still be hammering3 treachery , To tumble down thy ...
Page 26
... thou been long blind , and now re- stor❜d ? Simp . Born blind , an ' t please your grace . Wife . Ay , indeed , was he . Suf . What woman is this ? Wife . His wife , an ' t like your worship . 8o Glo . Hadst thou been his mother , thou ...
... thou been long blind , and now re- stor❜d ? Simp . Born blind , an ' t please your grace . Wife . Ay , indeed , was he . Suf . What woman is this ? Wife . His wife , an ' t like your worship . 8o Glo . Hadst thou been his mother , thou ...
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... thou seest not well . Simp . Yes , master , clear as day , I thank God and Saint Alban . Glo . Say'st thou me so ? What colour is this cloak of ! 110 Simp . Red , master ; red as blood . Glo . Why , that's well said . What colour is ...
... thou seest not well . Simp . Yes , master , clear as day , I thank God and Saint Alban . Glo . Say'st thou me so ? What colour is this cloak of ! 110 Simp . Red , master ; red as blood . Glo . Why , that's well said . What colour is ...
Page 32
... thou thump thy master well . Hor . [ Speaking thickly , as if drunk ] Masters , I am come hither , as it were , upon my man's instigation , to prove him a knave and myself an honest man : and touching the Duke of York , I will take my ...
... thou thump thy master well . Hor . [ Speaking thickly , as if drunk ] Masters , I am come hither , as it were , upon my man's instigation , to prove him a knave and myself an honest man : and touching the Duke of York , I will take my ...
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Common terms and phrases
battle Bianca blood Boling Bolingbroke brother Buckingham Cade called Clar Clarence Clif Clifford Compare crown daughter death doth Duke of Gloucester Duke of York Earl Edward emendation England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fairy father fear France Gaunt give Gloster Gloucester grace Grumio hand hath heart heaven Henry VI Hermia Holinshed honour Hortensio house of Lancaster house of York Humphrey Jack Cade John John of Gaunt Kath King Henry kyng Lady Lancaster Line London lord Love's Labour's Lost Lucentio Malone Margaret married means never noble old play passage Petruchio Prince Puck Pyramus Queen Rich Richard Richard II RICHARD PLANTAGENET Salisbury SCENE seems sense Shakespeare shalt Somerset speak speech Steevens Suffolk sweet tell thee thine traitor Tranio True Tragedy unto Warwick wife word
Popular passages
Page 329 - And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts : But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quench'd in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon, And the imperial vot'ress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free. Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound ; And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
Page 432 - Which, with such gentle sorrow he shook off, His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience, That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him.
Page 416 - No matter where. Of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth; Let's choose executors and talk of wills : And yet not so — for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
Page 50 - Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school; and, whereas before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used and, contrary to the King his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill.