Allw Angelo Apparitors ARIEL better Betty brother Brush Caliban Cant Charles Claudio Cominius Coriolanus Crosses daughter dear door Duke Enter Escal Exeunt Exit Fanny father friar Froth gentleman give Gree happy Harriet hath hear heart heaven Heidel Heidelberg honour hope husband Irwin Isab LADY ALLWORTH Lady F Lady Freelove ladyship leave Lord N Lord Norland Lord Ogl Lord Ogleby Lord Trinket lordship Lovewell Lucio ma'am madam Marcius MARRALL marry master Measure for Measure Miss Ster never noble O'Cut Oakly pardon Pay Old Debts Placid POMPEY poor pr'ythee pray Prospero Prov PROVOST Russet SCENE servant Sir G Sir Giles Sir H Sir Harry Sir Robert sister Solus speak spirit Sterling sure Sycorax tell thee there's thing Trin Trinculo Volscians WATCHALL Wellborn What's wife young Zounds
Pagina 11 - Thou hast nor youth, nor age ; But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, Dreaming on both: for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld...
Pagina 12 - Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die ? The sense of death is most in apprehension ; And the poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
Pagina 12 - Admired Miranda ! Indeed the top of admiration ; worth What's dearest to the world ! Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard ; and many a time The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear...
Pagina 13 - The bigger bulk it shows. 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.
Pagina 68 - From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty ; As surfeit is the father of much fast, So every scope by the immoderate use Turns to restraint; our natures do pursue (Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,) A thirsty evil ; and when we drinK, we die.
Pagina 8 - Where should this music be ? i' the air, or the earth ? It sounds no more: — and sure, it waits upon Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the king my father's wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters; Allaying both their fury, and my passion, With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather: — But 'tis gone.