The Plays of Shakespeare from the Text of Dr. S. Johnson Volume 6, PT. 1; With the Prefaces, Notes, Etc. of Rowe, Pope, Theobald, Hanmer, Warburton, Johnson and Select Notes from Many Other Critics Also, the Introduction of the Last Editor Mr. Capell an (Paperback)

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1771 Excerpt: ...do thefe men play? Serv. That's to't, indeed, sir. Marry, sir, at the request of Paris my lord, who's there in perfon; with him the moittal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's vifible foul. Pan. Who, my cousin Crefsida? Serv. No, sir, Helen. Could you not sind out that by her attributes i Pan. It should feem, fellow, that thou hast not feen the lady Cressida. I come to fpeak with Paris from the prince Troilus; I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my businefs feethes. Serv. Sodden businefs there's a stew'd phrafe, indeed. Scene II. Enter Paris and Helen, attended. Pan. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company fair desires in all fair meafure fairly guide them; efpecially to you, fair queen, fair thoughts be your fair pillow Hel. Dear lord, you are full of fair words. ' Pan. You fpeak your fahvpleafure, fweet queen. Fair prince, here is good broken musick. Par. You have broken it, cousin, and, by my life, you fhall make it whole again; you fhall piece it out with a piece of your performance. Nell, he is full of harmony. Pan. Truly, lady, no. Hel. O, sir Pan. Rude, in footh; in good footh, very rude. Par. Well faid, my lord; well, you fay fo in sits. Pan. I have businefs to my lord, dear queen. My lord, will you vouchfafe me a word? Hel. Nay, this shall not hedge us out; we'll hear you sing, certainly. Pan. Well, fweet queen, you are pleafant with me, but, marry thus, my lord. My dear lord, and most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus Hel. My lortl Pafcdarus, honey-fweet lord---Paw. Go to, fweet queen, go to-Commends himfelf most affectionately to you. Hel. You shall not bob us out of our melody, if yon do, our melancholy upon your head Pav. Sweet queen, fweet queen, that's a fweet queen, I'faith Hrt. And to make a fweet lad...