The Works of William Shakespeare: The Text Formed from an Entirely New Collation of the Old Editions : with the Various Readings, Notes, a Life of the Poet, and a History of the Early English Stage, Volum 1
Whittaker & Company, 1844
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Pàgina cclx - What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one (from whence they came) Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life...
Pàgina 73 - Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When he comes back ; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms...
Pàgina cclxxvii - Shakespeare, must enjoy a part, For though the poet's matter Nature be, His art doth give the fashion, and that he Who casts to write a living line must sweat (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat Upon the Muses...
Pàgina cclxxvii - Sweet Swan of Avon, what a sight it were, To see thee in our waters yet appear ; And make those flights upon the banks of Thames, That so did take Eliza, and our James ! But stay ; I see thee in the hemisphere Advanced...
Pàgina 25 - Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the king my father's wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion, With its sweet air: thence I have followed it, Or it hath drawn me rather.
Pàgina lxxxvi - Let still the woman take An elder than herself; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart. For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are.
Pàgina cclxxvi - Muses : For if I thought my judgment were of years, I should commit thee surely with thy peers, And tell how far thou didst our Lyly outshine. Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line.
Pàgina 146 - Who is Silvia ? what is she, That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she, The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind as she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness: Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness ; And, being help'd, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing, Upon the dull earth dwelling: To her let us garlands bring.
Pàgina 56 - Be not afeard ; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears ; and sometime voices, That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep, Will make me sleep again : and then, in dreaming, The clouds, methought, would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me ; that when I wak'd I cried to dream again.
Pàgina 67 - Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air : And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on ; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.