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appears Attendants bear BERTRAM better blood bring Camillo Clown Collier's folio comes common corrected Count Court daughter dear death Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair father fear folio Fool fortune French give hand hast hath hear heart Heaven Hermione hold honour hope I'll King lady leave Leon live look lord lost Madam marry master means Nature never night noble Note original passage Paul play poor pray present Queen reason remark SCENE seems sense Shakespeare's Sir Toby song speak speech stand sweet tale tell thanks thee There's thing thou thou art thought true wife worth young youth
Seite 155 - 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.
Seite 90 - Yet am I thankful : if my heart were great, 'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more ; But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft As captain shall : simply the thing I am Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this ; for it will come to pass That every braggart shall be found an ass.
Seite 20 - Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky Gives us free scope ; only, doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
Seite 179 - 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.
Seite 82 - 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.
Seite 186 - O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown ; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown : A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O, where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there ! Duke.