The Plays of William Shakespeare: In Twenty-one Volumes, with the Corrections and Illustrations of Various Commentators, to which are Added Notes, Zväzok 20

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J. Nichols and Son, 1813

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Strana 96 - 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.
Strana 84 - O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo ? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name : Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Strana 56 - Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid : Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers...
Strana 82 - But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! — Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she...
Strana 5 - Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny. Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life ; Whose misadventured piteous overthrows Do. with their death, bury their parents
Strana 56 - She is the fairies' midwife ;" and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies" Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep: Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners...
Strana 91 - 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.
Strana 91 - Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast!
Strana 171 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east : Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops ; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Strana 83 - tis not to me she speaks : Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head ? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp ; her eye in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright, That birds would sing and think it were not night.

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