The Coxcomb: A ComedyJ.T. and sold, 1718 - 59 pages |
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Common terms and phrases
accufe Alex Alexander bafe beft better Bleffing Caufe Conftable COXCOM Cree Cuckold defire doft Draw drink e'er elfe Enter Antonio Enter Ricardo Exeunt Exit fafe Faith fear felf ferve fhall fhe's fhew fhould fince fleep fome forfooth fpeak Friend ftand ftay ftill ftir fuch Fuft fure fweet Gentleman Gentlewoman God's fake hafte hang'd hear Heart Heav'n hither honeft Houfe Houſe i'th in't Jewel Juft Juftice Knave laft lofe Love Madge Maid Mercury Miftrefs Miſtreſs moft Moth muft Murther muſt never Night on't Pedro pity pleafe pleaſe Poft pray prefently prethee Rogue ſhall Silvio Sirrah ſpeak tell thank thee thefe there's theſe thing thofe thou art Troth twill Uber Uberto Viol Viola warrant Wench What's Whore Wife Woman wou'd
Popular passages
Page 35 - Woman, they say, was only made of man : Methinks 'tis strange they should be so unlike ! It may be, all the best was cut away To make the woman, and the naught was left Behind with him, — I'll sit me down and weep ! All things have cast me from 'em but the earth : The evening comes, and every little flower Droops now, as well as I.
Page 53 - Methinks I would not now, for anything, But you had miss'd me : I have made a story Will serve to waste many a winter's fire, When we are old : I'll tell my daughters then The miseries their mother had in love And say,
Page 27 - And then drink it off ; then take the fruits o' th' earth, Distil the juice from them, and drink that off; We'll catch the rain before it fall to ground, And drink off that, that never more may grow ; We'll set our mouths to springs, and drink them...
Page 53 - For God's sake urge your faults no more, but mend ! All the forgiveness I can make you, is, To love you ; which I will do, and desire Nothing but love again ; which if I have not, Yet I will love you still.
Page 44 - Mother. Go, whimling, and fetch two or three grating loaves Out of the kitchen, to make gingerbread of.
Page 38 - And all good comforts else, unless some tree, Whose speechless charity must better ours. With which the bitter east winds made their sport And sung through hourly, hath invited her To keep off half a day? Shall she be thus, And I draw in soft slumbers? God forbid ! No, night and bitter coldness, I provoke thee, And all the dews that hang upon thy locks...