The New Grant White Shakespeare: As you like it ; The taming of the shrew ; All's well that ends well |
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bear Bertram better Bianca bring brother Cambridge and Globe comes Count daughter Duke editions editors Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair faith father Folios and quarto fool fortune friends give Gremio hand hast hath hear heart honour Hortensio Italy Kath keep King lady later leave live look Lord Lucentio Madam marry master means mistress nature never omits original Orlando Parolles passage Petruchio play poor pray present printed reading Rosalind Rowe's SCENE seems sense Servant serve Shakespeare's speak speech stand stay suggested sweet tell thank thee thing thou thought Touch Tranio true White wife woman young youth
Popular passages
Page 52 - Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude.
Page 51 - With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and...
Page 46 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale.
Page 51 - With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound.
Page 276 - 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.
Page 50 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players : They have their exits, and their entrances ; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms...
Page 31 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...
Page 42 - Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.