The Footsteps of Shakespere: Or, A Ramble with the Early Dramatists, Containing Much New and Interesting Information Respecting Shakespere, Lyly, Marlowe, Greene, and Others

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J. R. Smith, 1862 - 186 страници
 

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Страница 165 - Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell : It fell upon a little western flower, — Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, — And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
Страница 105 - He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.
Страница 168 - Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all arm'd: a certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned by the west, And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts : But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon, And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
Страница 90 - Not for the world: why, man, she is mine own; And I as rich in having such a jewel, As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.
Страница 51 - Of thinking too precisely on the event, A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom And ever three parts coward, I do not know Why yet I live to say, This thing's to do ; Sith I have cause and will and strength and means To do't.
Страница 4 - How absolute the knave is ! we must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken note of it ; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe. — How long hast thou been a grave-maker? 1 Clo. Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day that our last King Hamlet o'ercame Fortinbras.
Страница 47 - Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start...
Страница 35 - How oft when men are at the point of death Have they been merry! which their keepers call A lightning before death: O, how may I Call this a lightning?
Страница 121 - Will I upon thy party wear this rose: And here I prophesy, — This brawl to-day, Grown to this faction, in the Temple garden, Shall send, between the red rose and the white, A thousand souls to death and deadly night.
Страница 64 - All murder'd: for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court, and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp...

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