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againſt anſwer Antigonus Antipholis Arth beft Bithynia blood Camillo Conft Count defire doth Dromio Duke elfe Enter Exeunt Exit eyes faid father Faulc Faulconbridge feems fent fervant fervice fhall fhame fhew fhould fifter fince firſt fome fool foul fpeak France ftand ftay ftill ftir ftrong fuch fure fwear fweet gentleman give hand hath heart heav'n himſelf honeft honour houfe houſe huſband Illyria itſelf James Gurney John King knave Lady Lord Madam mafter Malvolio Melun miftrefs miſtreſs moft moſt muft muſt myſelf Phil pleaſe pr'ythee pray prefent purpoſe reafon SCENE ſhall ſhe Shep Sicilia Sir Andrew Ague-cheek Sir Toby ſpeak tell thee thefe there's theſe thine thofe thou art thouſand uſe whofe wife worfe your's yourſelf
Página 330 - 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.
Página 59 - 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.
Página 252 - But nature makes that mean; so over that art, Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race. This is an art Which does mend nature — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
Página 241 - I would, there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty ; or that youth would sleep out the rest: for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting.
Página 84 - 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.