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art thou baniſhed bear Benvolio blood breath bring Capulet comes County daughter dead dear death doth draw dream early ears earth Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair fall Farewel father fear fight Friar gentle give gone grave hand hate hath hear heart heav'n hence Hold holy hour houſe husband I'll Juliet keep lady Lawrence leave letter lies light lips live look lord Madam married Mercutio morning mother Mountague muſt myſelf night Nurſe Paris peace Play poiſon Prince quarrel Romeo ſay SCENE ſee ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome ſon ſorrow ſpeak ſuch ſweet tears tell thee theſe thing thou art thou wilt thought Thurſday Tibalt tongue true turn Verona wake watch wife young
12. oldal - 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...
19. oldal - Would through the airy region stream so bright, That birds would sing, and think it were not night — See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand ! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek ! Jul.
12. oldal - True, I talk of dreams ; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
12. oldal - Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice; Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes; And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again.
22. oldal - My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.
36. oldal - Give me my Romeo: and when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
23. oldal - Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: And yet no further than a wanton's bird; Who lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.
19. oldal - 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...