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The Shakspere Reading Book, Being Seventeen of Shakspere's Plays Abridged ...
No preview available - 2015
answer bear Beat Beatrice Bene Benedick better blood brother Claud Claudio cloth comes cousin daughter dead dear death desire dost doth Drawing Duke England English Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair faith father fellow fool fortune France friends give grace hand Harry hast hath head hear heart Hero hold honour horse hour I'll John keep kind king lady leave Leon live look lord majesty Malvolio Marry master meet never night noble Orlando peace Pedro Pist Poins poor pray Prince prithee reason Rosalind School Sir Toby soldier soul speak stand sweet tell thank thee there's thing thou thou art thought thousand true uncle villain Watch wear young youth
Page 322 - 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 241 - This story shall the good man teach his son ; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered ; We few, we happy few, we band of brothers ; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile This day shall gentle his condition...
Page 333 - O fellow, come, the song we had last night: Mark it, Cesario; it is old and plain: The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it ; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
Page 212 - tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who hath it? He that died o
Page 334 - A blank, my lord : She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i...
Page 307 - Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude.
Page 333 - 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 300 - O good old man ; how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat, but for promotion; And having that, do choke their service up Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
Page 240 - Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart ; his passport shall be made And crowns for convoy put into his purse : We would not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us.