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Страница 545 - Is not the whole land before thee? separate thyself, I pray thee, from me : if thou wilt take the left hand, then I will go to the right ; or if thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to the left.
Страница 457 - SAVE me, O God ; for the waters are come in unto my soul. I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing: I am come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me.
Страница 104 - As when a gryphon, through the wilderness With winged course, o'er hill or moory dale, Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stealth Had from his wakeful custody purloined The guarded gold...
Страница 423 - Did I but purpose to embark with thee On the smooth surface of a summer's sea ; While gentle zephyrs play in prosperous gales, And fortune's favour fills the swelling sails ; But would forsake the ship, and make the shore, When the winds whistle, and the tempests roar...
Страница 81 - ACT V. Scene I. Mantua. A street. Enter Romeo. Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep My dreams presage some joyful news at hand. My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne, And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
Страница 475 - And I will feed them that oppress thee with their own flesh; And they shall be drunken with their own blood, as with sweet wine: And all flesh shall know that I the Lord am thy Saviour And thy Redeemer, the mighty One of Jacob.
Страница 459 - There arrows of the bow he brake, The shield, the sword, the war, More glorious thou than hills of prey, More excellent art far.
Страница 91 - scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty years, and yet I am bewitched with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged : it could not be else : I have drunk medicines.
Страница 417 - I AM a son of Mars, Who have been in many wars, And show my cuts and scars Wherever I come ; This here was for a wench, And that other in a trench, When welcoming the French At the sound of the drum.
Страница 99 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor; So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...

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