File:The comedies of William Shakespeare (1896) (14577527508).jpg

Identifier: comediesofwillia02shak (find matches)
Title: The comedies of William Shakespeare
Year: 1896 (1890s)
Authors: Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616 Abbey, Edwin Austin, 1852-1911
Subjects:
Publisher: New York : Harper and brothers
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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llo plays, (^Mtisic.And twenty caged nightingales do sing.Or wilt thou sleep ? well have thee to a couch,Softer and sweeter than the lustful bedOn purpose trimmd up for Semiramis.Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground.Or wilt thou ride ^. thy horses shall be trappd.Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.Dost thou love hawkino-? thou hast hawks will soarAbove the morning lark. Or wilt thou hunt ?Thv hounds shall make the welkin answer them.And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. 1 Serv. Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swiftAs breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. 2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures I we will fetch thee straightAdonis, painted by a running brook;And Cytherea all in sedges hid.Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,Even as the waving sedges play with wind. Lord. Well show thee lo, as she was a maid;And how she was beguiled and surprised,As lively painted as the deed was done. Plate 20KATHARINA Taming of the Shrew, act i., scene i.
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THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 145 3 Seiv. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny woodScratching her legs, that one shall swear she bleeds;And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord.Thou hast a lady far more beautifulThan any woman in this waning age. 1 Serv. And, till the tears that she hath shed for theeLike envious floods oerran her lovely face, She was the fairest creature in the world;And yet she is inferior to none. Beg. Am I a lord, and have I such a lady.Or do I dream ? or have I dreamd till now?I do not sleep; I see, I hear, I speak;I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things.Upon my life, I am a lord, indeed,And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly.—Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;And once again, a pot o th smallest ale. 2 Serv. Wiirt please your mightiness to wash your hands ?Oh, how we joy to see your wit restored!Oh, that once more you knew but what you are!These fifteen years you have

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