Representative English Literature from Chaucer to Tennyson: Selected and Supplemented with Historical Connections and a MapH. Holt, 1893 - 514 страници |
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Страница 114
... disaster , but as explaining how a merchant and man of affairs could afterwards behave as a " want - wit " in signing the Jew's bond . ! Salar . Your mind is tossing on the ocean 114 PERIOD OF ITALIAN INFLUENCE . The Merchant of Venice.
... disaster , but as explaining how a merchant and man of affairs could afterwards behave as a " want - wit " in signing the Jew's bond . ! Salar . Your mind is tossing on the ocean 114 PERIOD OF ITALIAN INFLUENCE . The Merchant of Venice.
Страница 115
... Salar . My wind , cooling my broth , Would blow me to an ague , when I thought What harm a wind too great might do at sea . I should not see the sandy hour - glass run , But I should think of shallows and of flats , And see my wealthy ...
... Salar . My wind , cooling my broth , Would blow me to an ague , when I thought What harm a wind too great might do at sea . I should not see the sandy hour - glass run , But I should think of shallows and of flats , And see my wealthy ...
Страница 116
... Salar . Why , then you are in love . Ant . Fie , fie ! Then let's say you are sad , Salar . Not in love neither ? Because you are not merry : and ' twere as easy For you to laugh and leap , and say you are merry , Because you are not ...
... Salar . Why , then you are in love . Ant . Fie , fie ! Then let's say you are sad , Salar . Not in love neither ? Because you are not merry : and ' twere as easy For you to laugh and leap , and say you are merry , Because you are not ...
Страница 117
... Salar . Good morrow , my good lords . Bass . Good signiors both , when shall we laugh ? say , when ? You grow exceeding strange : must it be so ? 65 Salar . We'll make our leisures to attend on yours . [ Exeunt SALARINO and SALANIO ...
... Salar . Good morrow , my good lords . Bass . Good signiors both , when shall we laugh ? say , when ? You grow exceeding strange : must it be so ? 65 Salar . We'll make our leisures to attend on yours . [ Exeunt SALARINO and SALANIO ...
Страница 136
... Salar . We have not spoke us yet of torch - bearers . Salan . ' Tis vile unless it may be quaintly ordered , And better , in my mind , not undertook . Lor . ' Tis now but four o'clock , we have two hours To furnish us . Enter LAUNCELOT ...
... Salar . We have not spoke us yet of torch - bearers . Salan . ' Tis vile unless it may be quaintly ordered , And better , in my mind , not undertook . Lor . ' Tis now but four o'clock , we have two hours To furnish us . Enter LAUNCELOT ...
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Addison Æneid Alfred Tennyson Antonio Bass Bassanio beauty Burns called Canterbury Tales Carlyle Celt century Chaucer Coleridge court death delight doth drama ducats Duke early Elizabethan England English literature English poet English poetry Enter Essay eyes Faerie Queene fair French genius grace hath heart heaven honor human Jessica John Johnson Julius Cæsar King lady language Laun Launcelot learning literary living London look Lord Lorenzo lyric master Merchant of Venice Milton mind nature Nerissa never night novel o'er Paradise Lost passion play poem poetic poetry Pope Portia pray prose Queen reign Robert Burns Salar sche seems Shakespeare Shylock sing song soul Spenser spirit stand story sweet sylphs Tatler Tennyson thee things Thomas Carlyle thou thought tion trouvère Venice verse word Wordsworth writers young
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Страница 412 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Страница 323 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay: Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; A breath can make them, as a breath has made: But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Страница 342 - Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Страница 413 - Homer ruled as his demesne ; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold : Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He...
Страница 409 - Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not...
Страница 238 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he, returning, chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Страница 413 - O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, 'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Страница 338 - Duty! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove ; Thou, who art victory and law When empty terrors overawe ; From vain temptations dost set free ; And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity ! There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them ; who, in love and truth, Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth : Glad Hearts ! without reproach or blot ; Who do thy work, and know it not : Oh ! if through confidence misplaced They fail, thy...
Страница 360 - Alas ! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) How fast she nears and nears ! Are those her sails that glance in the Sun, Like restless gossameres ? Are those her ribs through which the Sun Did peer, as through a grate ? And is that Woman all her crew ? Is that a Death ? and are there two ? Is Death that woman's mate...
Страница 412 - THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness!* Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?