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Achilles Agamemnon Ajax Andronicus Aron art thou Auffidius Bassianus brother Brut Capulet Cominius Corio Coriolanus Cres Cressid dead death deed Diomed doth Emperour Empresse Enter Exeunt Exit eyes faire Farewell Father foole Friends Frier Generall give Gods Gothes ha's hand hath heare heart heaven HeBor hee's heere hither Honour JEneas Juliet kisse Lady Lavinia looke Lord Lucius Madam Marcus Martius Mene Menelaus Menen Menenius Mercutio morrow Mother Mountague night Noble Nurse Pandarus Paris Patroclus peace pray Priam Prince Rome Romeo Saturnine selfe shew Sicin Sonne speake stand Sunne sweet Sword Tamora teares tell thee Ther Thersites thine thing thinke thou art thou hast Titus Titus Andronicus tongue Tribunes Trojan Troy Troylus Tybali Ulis Villaine Volces Voyces Warre weepe What's wilt word
328. oldal - and yet all different. O mickle is the powerfull grace that lies In Plants, Hearbs, stones, and their true qualities : For nought so vile, that on the earth doth live, But to the earth some special! good doth give. Nor ought so good, but strain'd from that faire use, Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. Vertue
383. oldal - my Wife, Death that hath suckt the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy Beautie : Thou art not conquer'd : Beauties ensigne yet Is Crymson in thy lips, and in thy cheekes, And Deaths pale flag is not advanced there. Tybalt, ly'st thou there in thy bloudy sheet
19. oldal - the Shores, And make a soppe of all this solid Globe : Strength should be Lord of imbecility, And the rude Sonne should strike his Father dead : Force should be right, or rather, right and wrong, (Betweene whose endlesse Jarre, Justice recides) Should loose her names, and so should Justice too.
323. oldal - What man art thou, that thus bescreen'd in night So stumblest on my counsell ? Rom. By a name, I know not how to tell thee who I am : My name deare Saint, is hatefull to my selfe, Because it is an Enemy to thee, Had I it written, I would teare the word.
339. oldal - the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight : Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then Love-devouring death do what he dare, It is inough, I may but call her mine. Fri. These violent delights have violent endes, And in their triumph : die like
324. oldal - Jul. How cam'st thou hither. Tell me, and wherefore ? The Orchard walls are high, and hard to climbe, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here. Rom. With Loves light wings Did I ore-perch these Walls, For stony limits cannot hold
324. oldal - What I have spoke, but farewell Complement, Doest thou Love ? I know thou wilt say I, And I will take thy word, yet if thou swear'st, Thou maiest prove false : at Lovers perjuries They say Jove laught, oh gentle Romeo, If thou dost Love, pronounce it faithfully : Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly wonne,
204. oldal - now, I have forgot my part, And I am out, even to a full Disgrace. Best of my Flesh, Forgive my Tyranny : but do not say, For that forgive our Romanes. Oa kisse Long as my Exile, sweet as my Revenge ! Now by the jealous Queene of Heaven, that kisse
311. oldal - Summer hath not such a flower. Nurse. Nay hee's a flower, infaith a very flower. Old La. What say you, can you love the Gentleman ? This night you shall behold him at our Feast, Read ore the volume of young Paris face, And find delight, writ there with Beauties pen : Examine
338. oldal - Nur. Your Love saies like an honest Gentleman, And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, And I warrant a vertuous : where is your Mother ? Jul. Where is my Mother ? Why she is within, where should she be ? How odly thou repli'st : Your Love saies like an honest Gentleman : Where is your Mother