The British Theatre; Or, A Collection of Plays: Which are Acted at the Theatres Royal, Drury Lane, Covent Garden, and Haymarket ...
A collection of plays, each of which has an Innopac Index record, by English authors. Most plays have a special t.p. and engraved general t.p. representing a scene from the play and a frontispiece showing an actor in a leading role. Most plays have information about the author, criticism of the play and a list of the actors.
Other editions - View all
Abbess Angelo ANTIPHOLIS art thou BENVOLIO blood brother Buck Buckingham CAPULET Catesby cousin dead dear death didst dost doth DROMIO Duch DUCHESS OF YORK Duke Egeon England Enter EPHESUS Exeunt Exit Exit ENGLISH eyes fair farewell father Faul FAULCONBRIDGE fear France Friar FRIAR LAWRENCE friends GENTLEMEN GHOST give Glost GLOSTER grace Graved grief GUILDENSTERN Hamlet hand hath hear heart Heaven holy Horatio Hubert husband Juliet kill'd KING JOHN Lady Laer Laertes Lesbia live look lord LORD STANLEY madam majesty Mercutio mistress mother ne'er never night Nurse Ophelia OSRICK PANDULPH peace Phil POLONIUS pray Prince Queen Romeo SCENE sorrow soul speak Stanley sweet tears tell thee There's thine thou art thou hast Tibalt tongue Tressel Trumpets uncle villain weep wife wilt word York
Page 30 - I have of late— but wherefore I know not— lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
Page 78 - No, faith, not a jot ; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: As thus; Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust ; the dust is earth ; of earth we make loam : And why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel...
Page 18 - But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres ; Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porcupine...
Page 19 - Haste me to know it; that I, with wings as swift As meditation, or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge.
Page 21 - Do not swear at all ; Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I'll believe thee.
Page 77 - Alas ! poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio ; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy ; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times ; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is ! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft.
Page 24 - Sweet, so would I : Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night ! parting is such sweet sorrow. That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
Page 35 - 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.