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Angelo Anne Antonio bear Beatrice Benedick bring brother Claudio cloth Clown comes daughter death Demetrius desire Don Pedro doth Duke Edition Enter Evans Exeunt Exit eyes fair fairy Falstaff father fear follow fool Ford friar gentle give grace hand hang hast hath head hear heart heaven Hermia Hero History hold honour Host hour I'll Isabella John Julia keep kind lady leave Leonato letter live look lord Lucio Lysander madam Malvolio Maria marry master mean meet mind mistress nature never night Olivia Page peace play poor pray present Prospero Proteus Provost Quickly reason Scene Sebastian Servant Shallow Silvia Sir Andrew Sir Toby sleep Slender soul speak Speed spirit stand Stephano strange sweet tell thank thee thing thou thou art thought true Valentine Viola vols woman
Page 219 - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.
Page 244 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown ; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown : A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O, where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there ! Duke.
Page 18 - em. Caliban. I must eat my dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak'st from me. When thou earnest first, Thou strok'dst me and mad'st much of me, wouldst give me Water with berries in't, and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night : and then I lov'd thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile.
Page 70 - Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else my project fails, Which was to please. Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; And my ending is despair Unless I be reliev'd by prayer, Which pierces so that it assaults Mercy itself, and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.
Page 46 - Be not afeard ; the isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears, and sometimes voices That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again : and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.
Page 306 - We must not make a scare-crow of the law, ' Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror.
Page 310 - Alas, alas ! Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once ; And He that might the vantage best have took Found out the remedy. How would you be, If He, which is the top of judgement, should But judge you as you are ? O, think on that ; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made.
Page 296 - That to the observer doth thy history Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper, as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd But to fine issues ; nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor,...
Page 495 - More strange than true; I never may believe These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact. One sees more devils than vast Hell can hold, That is, the madman. The lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.