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Anne Antonio Baptista Bass Bassanio better Bianca Bion Biondello Caius daughter doth ducats Duke Enter Evans Exeunt Exit eyes F. W. H. MYERS fair Falstaff father fool gentle gentleman give Gremio hand hast hath hear heart heaven Herne the hunter honour Hortensio Host HUGH EVANS humour husband Illyria Kate Kath Katharina knave lady Laun Launcelot look lord Lucentio madam Malvolio marry Master Brook master doctor merry Mistress Ford never night Orlando Padua Petruchio Pist play Portia pray prithee Quarto Quick Re-enter Rosalind Salan SCENE Shakespeare Shal Shrew Shylock Signior Sir John Sir John Falstaff Sir Toby Slen Slender speak swear sweet tell thee there's thou art Touch Tranio Twelfth Night Venice wife woman word
第511页 - And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress
第493页 - 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' difference, as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say ' This is no flattery : these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.
第223页 - The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted.
第221页 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears ; soft stillness, and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold.
第179页 - Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?
第209页 - But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this— That in the course of justice none of us Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy, And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much To mitigate the justice of thy plea, Which if thou follow, this strict court...
第507页 - And then he drew a dial from his poke, And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, "It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see," quoth he, "how the world wags: 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.
第398页 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
第134页 - I should not see the sandy hour-glass run But I should think of shallows and of flats. And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs To kiss her burial. Should I go to church And see the holy edifice of stone, And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks...
第184页 - Live thou, I live : with much much more dismay I view the fight than thou that makest the fray. Music, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself. SONG. Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head ? How begot, how nourished ? Reply, reply. It is engender'd in the eyes, With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell ; 70 I 'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell.