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The Works of Thomas Otway, with Notes and a Life of the Author by T. Thornton
No preview available - 2016
Acast arms Beau better brother Cast Castalio Cham Clum comes Cour Davy dead dear death devil door drink Dunce Enter Exit eyes face faith father fear fellow fool fortune Four give gods gone Goodvile hand hang happy hast hear heard heart honest honour hope hour I'll keep kind Lady Squ Lavinia leave live look lord madam Malagene Marius means meet Monimia murder nature never night Noble Nurse once person play pleasure poor presently rest rogue Rome SCENE servant Sir Dav Sir Jol sir Jolly soul speak stand stay sure Sylla Sylv talk tell thee there's thing thou thou art thought Truman Valentine what's whores wife wish woman wretched wrong young
Page 140 - 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.
Page 191 - Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty : Thou art not conquer'd ; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Page 138 - Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name; And for that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself.
Page 154 - 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.
Page 140 - I'll believe thee. Rom. If my heart's dear love Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night : It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden ; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be, Ere one can say — It lightens.
Page 140 - 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.
Page 232 - ... with age grown double, Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself. Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall'd and red ; Cold palsy shook her head ; her hands...
Page 237 - My lord ! Pol. Go to your chamber and prepare your lute; Find out some song to please me, that describes Women's hypocrisies, their subtle wiles, Betraying smiles, feign'd tears, inconstancies, Their painted outsides, and corrupted minds, The sum of all their follies and their falsehoods.