The Plays of William Shakspeare, Volume 1H. S. Carey and I. Lea, 1822 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 9
Page 252
... Sir Toby Belch , uncle of Olivia . Sir Andrew Ague - cheek . Malvolio , steward to Olivia . Fabian , Clown , { servants to Olivia . Olivia , a rich countess . Viola , in love with the duke . Maria , Olivia's woman . Lords , priests ...
... Sir Toby Belch , uncle of Olivia . Sir Andrew Ague - cheek . Malvolio , steward to Olivia . Fabian , Clown , { servants to Olivia . Olivia , a rich countess . Viola , in love with the duke . Maria , Olivia's woman . Lords , priests ...
Page 257
... Sir To . Who ? Sir Andrew Ague - cheek ? Mar. Ay , he . Sir To . He's as talll a man as any's in Illyria . Mar. What's that to the purpose ? Sir To . Why , he has three thousand ducats a year . Mar. Ay , but he'll have but a year in all ...
... Sir To . Who ? Sir Andrew Ague - cheek ? Mar. Ay , he . Sir To . He's as talll a man as any's in Illyria . Mar. What's that to the purpose ? Sir To . Why , he has three thousand ducats a year . Mar. Ay , but he'll have but a year in all ...
Page 258
... Sir Andrew Ague - cheek . Sir And . Sir Toby Belch ! how now , sir Toby Belch ? Sir To . Sweet sir Andrew ! Sir And . Bless you , fair shrew . Mar. And you too , sir . Sir To . Accost , sir Andrew , accost . Sir And . What's that ...
... Sir Andrew Ague - cheek . Sir And . Sir Toby Belch ! how now , sir Toby Belch ? Sir To . Sweet sir Andrew ! Sir And . Bless you , fair shrew . Mar. And you too , sir . Sir To . Accost , sir Andrew , accost . Sir And . What's that ...
Page 274
... Sir Andrew Ague - cheek . Sir To . Approach , sir Andrew : not to be a - bed after midnight , is to be up betimes ; and diluculo surgere , thou know'st , - Sir And . Nay , by my troth , I know not : but I know , to be up late , is to ...
... Sir Andrew Ague - cheek . Sir To . Approach , sir Andrew : not to be a - bed after midnight , is to be up betimes ; and diluculo surgere , thou know'st , - Sir And . Nay , by my troth , I know not : but I know , to be up late , is to ...
Page 284
... Sir , shall I to this lady ? Duke . Ay , that's the theme . To her in haste ; give her this jewel ; say , My love can give no place , bide no denay.1 [ Exeunt . SCENE V. - Olivia's Garden . Enter Sir Toby Belch , Sir Andrew Ague - cheek ...
... Sir , shall I to this lady ? Duke . Ay , that's the theme . To her in haste ; give her this jewel ; say , My love can give no place , bide no denay.1 [ Exeunt . SCENE V. - Olivia's Garden . Enter Sir Toby Belch , Sir Andrew Ague - cheek ...
Contents
179 | |
193 | |
208 | |
216 | |
238 | |
252 | |
253 | |
260 | |
61 | |
71 | |
82 | |
86 | |
87 | |
105 | |
117 | |
157 | |
161 | |
273 | |
312 | |
319 | |
334 | |
335 | |
348 | |
370 | |
398 | |
404 | |
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Ariel bawd brother Caius Caliban Claud Claudio daughter devil dost thou doth Duke Enter Escal Exeunt Exit eyes Falstaff father fear fool friar gentle gentleman give grace hath hear heart heaven Herne the hunter hither honour Host Hugh Evans husband Illyria Isab Julia knave lady Laun letter look lord Angelo Lucio madam maid Malvolio Marry master Brook master doctor Mira mistress Anne mistress Ford never night pardon peace Pist Pompey pr'ythee pray Prospero Proteus Prov Provost Quick Re-enter SCENE servant Shal Silvia Sir Andrew Sir Andrew Ague-cheek Sir Hugh sir John Sir John Falstaff Sir Toby Sir Toby Belch Slen speak Speed sweet Sycorax tell thee there's thine thing thou art thou hast Thurio Trin Trinculo Valentine What's wife woman word
Popular passages
Page 71 - gainst my fury Do I take part : the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance : they being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend Not a frown further.
Page 374 - tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life, ^ That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death.
Page 71 - 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 ? Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, Yet, with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury • Do I take part : the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance...
Page 73 - The charm dissolves apace ; And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason.
Page 358 - Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word, May call it back again: Well believe this, No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one half so good a grace, As mercy does.
Page 27 - would it had been done ! Thou didst prevent me ; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans. Pro. Abhorred slave ; Which any print of goodness will not take, Being capable of all ill ! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other : when thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes With words that made them known...
Page 275 - O mistress mine, where are you roaming ? O, stay and hear ; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low : Trip no further, pretty sweeting, Journeys end in lovers' meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.
Page 138 - Who is Silvia ? what is she, That all our swains commend her ? Holy, fair, and wise is she, The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind as she is fair ? For beauty lives with kindness : Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness ; And, being help'd, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling : She excels each mortal thing, Upon the dull earth dwelling : To her let us garlands bring.
Page 336 - 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...
Page 44 - A strange fish ! 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.