The plant-lore & garden-craft of Shakespeare - LightNovelsOnl.com
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(14) _Laertes._
O Rose of May, Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 5 (157).
(15) _Duke._
For women are as Roses, whose fair flower Being once display'd doth fall that very hour.
_Twelfth Night_, act ii, sc. 4 (39).
(16) _Constance._
Of Nature's gifts, thou may'st with Lilies boast, And with the half-blown Rose.
_King John_, act iii, sc. 1 (153).
(17) _Queen._
But soft, but see, or rather do not see, My fair Rose wither.
_Richard II_, act v, sc. 1 (7).
(18) _Hotspur._
To put down Richard, that sweet lovely Rose, And plant this Thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke.
_1st Henry IV_, act i, sc. 3 (175).
(19) _Hostess._
Your colour, I warrant you, is as red as any Rose.
_2nd Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 4 (27).
(20) _York._
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white Rose, With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed.
_2nd Henry VI_, act i, sc. 1 (254).
(21) _Don John._
I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a Rose in his grace.
_Much Ado About Nothing_, act i, sc. 3 (27).
(22) _Theseus._
But earthlier happy is the Rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin Thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.[244:1]
_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act i, sc. 1 (76).
(23) _Lysander._
How now, my love! Why is your cheek so pale?
How chance the Roses there do fade so fast?
_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act i, sc. 1 (128).
(24) _t.i.tania._
The seasons alter: h.o.a.ry-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson Rose.
_Ibid._, act ii, sc. 1 (107).
(25) _Thisbe._
Of colour like the red Rose on triumphant Brier.
_Ibid._, act iii, sc. 1 (95).
(26) _Biron._
Why should I joy in any abortive mirth?
At Christmas I no more desire a Rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth, But like of each thing that in season grows.[245:1]
_Love's Labour's Lost_, act i, sc. 1 (105).
(27) _King_ (reads).
So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not To those fresh morning drops upon the Rose.
_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 3 (26).
