Fair Rosamond; or, The days of king Henry ii1839 |
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Страница 41
... In sooth I know not why I am so sad ; It wearies me ; you say it wearies you : But how I caught it , found it , or came by it , What stuff ' tis made of , whereof it is born , I am to learn . I am the most unhappy woman living ...
... In sooth I know not why I am so sad ; It wearies me ; you say it wearies you : But how I caught it , found it , or came by it , What stuff ' tis made of , whereof it is born , I am to learn . I am the most unhappy woman living ...
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added amid answered apartment Archbishop Archbishop of Canterbury Archbishop of York armour arms barons beautiful beside bishop Bishop of Hereford blood bosom brow castle caught cheek church cold countenance danger dare dark death deep didst England exclaimed eyes face fair Rosamond fear feelings fell Fitzurse Gamas Gobbo gazed Gilbert Foliot glance Glanvil Godstow Gryme hall hand hath head heard heart Heaven holy father honour huge Hugh de Morville instantly King Henry knight labyrinth lady leave light lips look loud mangonels matters Maud minstrel monarch monk never noble Norman once palace passed pause peace Pierre de Vidal postern Prelate Primate Queen Eleanor Reginald Fitzurse rode Rosamond saint Saxon scarcely seat secret seemed sigh silence sound spoke steed stood sweet tears thee thine Thomas à Becket thou art thou hast thou wilt thoughts threw throw tone turret uncon voice wind Woodstock wouldst
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Страница 100 - Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, . Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun And descant on mine own deformity: And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Страница 179 - Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons' difference : as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say, This is no flattery : these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Страница 91 - LEAR. Let the great gods, That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads, Find out their enemies now.
Страница 179 - The seasons' difference ; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — This is no flattery : these are counsellors, That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Страница 75 - But when we in our viciousness grow hard, — O misery on't! — the wise gods seal our eyes ; In our own filth drop our clear judgments ; make us Adore our errors ; laugh at 's, while we strut To our confusion.
Страница 181 - Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life at a pin's fee; And for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself?
Страница 234 - Most curiously that bower was built Of stone and timber strong, An hundred and fifty doors Did to this bower belong : And they so cunninglye contriv'd With turnings round about, That none but with a clue of thread, Could enter in or out.
Страница 264 - In saffron robe, with taper clear, And pomp, and feast, and revelry, With mask, and antique pageantry; Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream.
Страница 205 - Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York ; And all the clouds, that lowered upon our house, In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths ; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Страница 122 - Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus : the flame o' the taper Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids...