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Angelo beft brother Caius Caliban Claudio Clown defire Demetrius doft doth Duke Efcal elfe Enter Exeunt Exit eyes faid Fairies falfe fame father fatire feems fenfe fent feven fhall fhew fhould fince firft fleep fome Ford foul fpeak fpirit Friar ftand ftill ftrange fuch fure fweet Gentlemen Gentlemen of VERONA give hath hear heart heav'n Hermia Herne the hunter himſelf Hoft honour houfe houſe Ifab Laun Lord Lucio Lyfander Madam mafter marry miftrefs Mira miſtreſs moft mufick muft muſt myfelf Naples paffage pleaſe Poet Pompey pray prefent prifon Profpero Protheus Prov Puck Pyramus Quic reafon Shakespeare Shal ſhall Silvia Slen ſpeak Speed Sycorax tell thee thefe there's theſe thofe thou art Thurio Valentine whofe wife woman word worfe
Page 28 - All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour : treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, .Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.
Page 42 - Hence, bashful cunning; And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! I am your wife, if you will marry me ; If not, I'll die your maid : to be your fellow You may deny me ; but I'll be your servant Whether you will or no.
Page 63 - And mine shall. Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not myself One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art?
Page xxviii - The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted.
Page 95 - Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music.
Page 96 - 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 150 - If we shadows have offended. Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here, While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: If you pardon, we will mend.
Page 35 - Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.