Dramatic scenes and characters

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William James Linton, Richard Henry Stoddard
C. Scribner's Sons, 1883

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77 ÆäÀÌÁö - Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder ? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe, When now I think you can behold such sights, And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, When mine is blanch'd with fear.
99 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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.
xix ÆäÀÌÁö - What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! Heard words that have been So nimble and so full of subtle flame As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life.
76 ÆäÀÌÁö - Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! let the earth hide thee! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with ! Lady M.
98 ÆäÀÌÁö - Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully : Or, if thou think'st I am too quickly won, I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo ; but else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond ; And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light ; But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
95 ÆäÀÌÁö - Methinks I should know you and know this man; Yet I am doubtful; for I am mainly ignorant What place this is, and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments, nor I know not Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me; For, as I am a man, I think this lady To be my child Cordelia.
82 ÆäÀÌÁö - Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls : Who steals my purse steals trash ; 'tis something, nothing ; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed.
96 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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...
96 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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.
93 ÆäÀÌÁö - You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age, wretched in both. If it be you that stirs these daughters...

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