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Index
Title Page
Contents
Dedication
Dramatis Personae
Scenes
A Note to the Reader
Prologue
What news on the Rialto?
Act One
My youth hath faulty wandered
The suburbs of his good pleasure
A tun of man
The Yeoman of the Wardrobe
Cakes and ale
Spending your wit in the praise of mine
Vows made in wine
My thoughts are ripe in mischief
A critic, nay, a night-watch constable
The play’s the thing
Voice verses of feigning love
A-horseback, ye cuckoo
Imagination of some great exploit
Hot hounds and hardy chase them at the heels
Many Jasons come in quest of her
Unmannerly boy
Rich gifts wax poor
‘Poor deer,’ quoth he, ‘thou makest a testament’
Interlude
I would think thee a most princely hypocrite
Act Two
Such welcome and unwelcome things at once
A long-tongued, babbling gossip? No, lords, no
According to the statute of the town
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope
Live scandalised and foully spoken of
Their best conscience is not to leave’t undone, but keep’t unknown
... most capricious poet, honest Ovid
How now? A rat?
And, by that destiny, to perform an act
Try what my credit can in Venice do
Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels
Known but by letter
A man he is of honesty and trust
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds
I think he hath a very fair warning
To compass wonders but by help of devils
Yet have I in me something dangerous
I have seen Sackerson loose twenty times, and have taken him by the chain
One man picked out of ten thousand
Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady
Interlude
The instruments of darkness tell us truths
Act Three
Exeunt omnes
A plague of sighing and grief
The bubble reputation
They say he has been fencer to the Sophy
... laid on twelve for nine
... little of this great world can I speak
Burst of a battle
The mistress court of mighty Europe
Five most vile and ragged foils
Goodnight sweet prince
Upon the pikes o’ the hunters
With what manners . . .
Stands on a tickle point
In the cup a spider steeped
What may man within him hide
The brief and the tedious of it
Interlude
Made him give battle to the lioness
Act Four
Speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice
What is the city but the people?
Defer no time; delays have dangerous ends
... three things that women highly hold in hate
With surety stronger than Achilles’ arm
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men
Honour, clock to itself
Ne’er saw her match since first the world begun
Scoff on, vile fiend and shameless courtesan
Too hot, too hot!
Let heaven see the pranks
You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams
Love all, trust a few
By Heaven, I do love, and it hath taught me to rhyme
As if, with Circe, she would change my shape!
Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay
If Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
With what great state
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!
What tidings, messenger? Be plain and brief
Farewell, my masters; to my task will I
For those thine eyes betray thee unto mine
More than enough am I that vex thee still
... rather pluck on laughter than revenge
Though the devil lead
Both alike in virtue
So keen and greedy to confound a man
I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap and be buried in thy eyes
Since night you loved me; yet since night you left me
Subtle as the fox for prey
Smile and smile and murder while I smile
So mightily betrayed!
So may the outward shows be least themselves
True! Pow wow
Every gash was an enemy’s grave
To catch woodcocks!
The world is still deceived with ornament
You see this chase is hotly followed
This would not be believed in Venice
By th’ luckiest stars in heaven
No more a rude mechanical
Full of decay and failing?
You spend your passion on a misprised mood
That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, if with his tongue he cannot win a woman
Interlude
Trust not to rotten planks
Act Five
The strict court of Venice
Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath
Thus foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack
Your jest is earnest
Much more monstrous matter of feast
The hope and expectation of thy time
With Ate by his side
Your beauty was the cause
Is there no man here?
Now follow – if thou darest – to try whose right of thine or mine is most in Helena
The whirligig of time
Why, here it is. Welcome these pleasant days!
Made for kissing
Epilogue
To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a feast
Historical Note
Acknowledgements
Copyright
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