As you like it. Twelfth night

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Ginn, Heath, & Company, 1881
 

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Page 166 - O mistress mine, where are you roaming ? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.
Page 135 - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.
Page 46 - Invest me in my motley ; give me leave To speak my mind, and I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, If they will patiently receive my medicine.
Page 36 - O good old man ; how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat, but for promotion; And having that, do choke their service up Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
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. And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel, And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad Made to his mistress
Page 51 - Heigh-ho ! sing, heigh-ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly : Then, heigh-ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not.
Page 35 - When service should in my old limbs lie lame, And unregarded age, in corners thrown. Take that; and He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ; All this I give you. Let me be your servant; Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty ; For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility ; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty,...
Page 29 - 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.
Page 42 - 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. Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i...

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