Works, 3 tomasBell & Bradfute, J. Dickinson [and others], 1795 |
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2 psl.
... never ap- proaches her heart , but the tyranny of her forrows takes all livelihood from her cheek . No more of this , Helena ; By virtuous qualities here are not meant thofe of a moral kind , but fuch as are acquired by erudition and ...
... never ap- proaches her heart , but the tyranny of her forrows takes all livelihood from her cheek . No more of this , Helena ; By virtuous qualities here are not meant thofe of a moral kind , but fuch as are acquired by erudition and ...
3 psl.
... never tax'd for fpeech . What heav'n more will ,. That thee may furnish , and my prayers pluck down , Fall on thy head ! farewell , my Lord ; ' Tis an unfeafon'd courtier , good my Lord , Advise him . Laf . He cannot want the best ...
... never tax'd for fpeech . What heav'n more will ,. That thee may furnish , and my prayers pluck down , Fall on thy head ! farewell , my Lord ; ' Tis an unfeafon'd courtier , good my Lord , Advise him . Laf . He cannot want the best ...
5 psl.
... never virgin got , till virginity was first loft . That you were made of , is metal to make virgins . Vir- ginity , by being once loft , may be ten times found ; by being ever kept , it is ever loft ; ' tis too cold a companion : away ...
... never virgin got , till virginity was first loft . That you were made of , is metal to make virgins . Vir- ginity , by being once loft , may be ten times found ; by being ever kept , it is ever loft ; ' tis too cold a companion : away ...
6 psl.
... never Returns us thanks . Enter Page . Page . Monfieur Parolles , My Lord calls for you . [ Exit Page . Par . Little Helen , farewell ; if I can remember . thee , I will think of thee at court . Hel . Monfieur Parolles , you were born ...
... never Returns us thanks . Enter Page . Page . Monfieur Parolles , My Lord calls for you . [ Exit Page . Par . Little Helen , farewell ; if I can remember . thee , I will think of thee at court . Hel . Monfieur Parolles , you were born ...
10 psl.
... never have the bleffing of God , till I have iffue of my body ; for they fay , bearns are bleffings . Count .. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry . Clo . My poor body , Madam , requires it . 1 am dri- ven on by the flesh ; and he ...
... never have the bleffing of God , till I have iffue of my body ; for they fay , bearns are bleffings . Count .. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry . Clo . My poor body , Madam , requires it . 1 am dri- ven on by the flesh ; and he ...
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againſt anfwer Antigonus Antipholis Arth Bithynia blood Camillo Cleomenes Conft Count defire doth Dromio Duke elfe Enter Exeunt Exit eyes faid father Faulc Faulconbridge fear feems fent fervice fhall fhew fhould fifter fince firft firſt fome fool foul fpeak France ftand ftill ftir ftrong fuch fure fwear fweet gentleman give hand hath hear heart heav'n himſelf honour houfe houſe Hubert huſband Illyria itſelf James Gurney John King knave Lady Lord Madam mafter Malvolio Melun miſtreſs moft moſt muft muſt myſelf Narbon Phil pleaſe pr'ythee pray prefent Prince purpoſe reafon ſay SCENE ſhall ſhe Shep Sicilia Sir Toby ſpeak tell thee thefe there's theſe thine thofe thoſe thou art thouſand whofe wife worfe yourſelf
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324 psl. - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
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324 psl. - There's nothing in this world can make me joy : Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
330 psl. - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
57 psl. - The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not ; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.