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All fancy-fick she is, and pale of cheer
· Midsummer Night's Dream, A, 3, S. 2° You thief of love! what, have you come by night, And stol'n my love's heart from him?
Midsummer Night's Dream, Ą. 3, S. 2. Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends.
Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 5, S. 14 Before the time I did Lyfander see, Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me: then, what graces in my love do dwell, That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell !
Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 1, S. 1, As waggish boys themselves in game forfwear, So the boy Love is perjur'd every where. Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 1,
S.I. Ah me! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth.
Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 1, S. 1, Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind.
Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 1, S. 1. Your wrongs do set a scandal on my fex: We cannot fight for love, as men may do; We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo.
Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 2, S. 2. O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou! That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, But falls into abatement and low price, Even in a minute!
Twelfth Night, A. 1, S. 1.
She never told her love,
Twelfth Night, A. 2, S. 4.
Twelfth Night, A. 3, S. I.
I cannot love him :
Twelfth Night, A. I, S. 5.
King John, A. 2, S. 2.
Henry VIII. A. 2, S. 2.
Farewell, Thou pure impiety, and impious purity! For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love. .
Much ado about nothing, A. 4, S. 1. I never tempted her with word too large; But, as a brother to a sister, shew'd Bashful sincerity and comely love.
Mucb ado about nothing, A. 4, S. 1. I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. Mucb ado about nothing, A. 2, S. 3.
: I do much wonder, that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laugh'd at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn, by falling in love.
Much ado about nothing, A. 2, S. 3. Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured : they say, I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too, that lhe will rather die than give any sign of affection.--I did never think to marry :-I must not seem proud. Much ado about nothing, A. 2, S. 3.
Loving goes by haps : Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
Much ado about nothing, A. 3, S. 1.
She cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self-endeared.
Much ado about nothing, A. 3, S. 1. They say, the lady is fair ; 'tis a truth I can bear them witness; and virtuous; 'tis fo, I cannot reprove it: and wife—but for loving me :-By my troth, iv is no addition to her wit ;-nor no great
argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love
If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I
Much ado about nothing, A. 2, S. 3.
I would do much
Othello, A. 4, S. 1.
Mucb ado about nothing, A. I, S. 1.
'. Much ado about nothing, A, I, S. 1.
Mucb ado about nothing, A. I, S. I.
atone them.] Make them one;, reconcile them.
• Attune them,
Let every eye negotiate for itself,
Mucb ado about nothing, A. 2, S. 1.
Were 't to renounce his baptism, All seats and symbols of redeemed fin,His soul is so enfetter'd to her love, That the may make, unmake, do what the list, Even as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function. Othello, A. 2, S. 3. • What! keep a week away ? seven days and nights ! Eight score eight hours ? and lovers absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times, O weary reckoning!
Othello, A. 3, S. 4. You know me well : and herein spend but time, To wind about my love with circumstance : And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong, In making question of
my uttermost, Than if you had made waste of all I have. Merchant of Venice, A. I,
S. 1. Bring me the fairest creature northward born, Where Phæbus' fire scarce thaws the isicles, And let us make incision for your love, To prove whose blood is reddeft, his, or mine. Merchant of Venice, A. 2,
S.I. I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine Hath fear'd the valiant; by my love, I swear, The best regarded virgins of our clime Have lov’d it too: I would not change this hue, Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.
Merchant of Venice, A. 2, S. 1.
'What! keep a week away ? ---Seven days and nights!)
Hui! univorsum triduum!