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The Works of William Shakespeare: In Nine Volumes, Volum 5
Visualització completa - 1811
The Works of William Shakespeare: In Nine Volumes, Volum 6
Visualització completa - 1811
The Works of William Shakespeare: In Nine Volumes, Volum 1
Visualització completa - 1810
Adonis Bawd bear beauteous beauty beauty's behold Ben Jonson blood Boult breast breath cheeks Cleon Colatine daughter dead dear death desire Dionyza dost thou doth face fair fair lord false father fear fire flowers foul gainst gentle give gods grace grief hand hate hath heart heaven Helen Henry VI honour Jove king kiss lady leave lips live look lord love's Lucrece Lysimachus MALONE Marina may'st Menelaus mind mistress Mitylene never night Othello Pentapolis Pericles pity pleasure poison'd poor praise Priam prince prince of Tyre Procris queen quoth rich Shakspeare shalt shame sight Simonides sorrow soul speak STEEVENS Stratford sweet Tarquin tears tell Thaisa thee Theseus thine eye thing thou art thou hast thought thro thyself time's tongue true unto Venus weep Whilst wife wilt wind words wound yard land youth
Pàgina 154 - Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, Fool'd by those rebel powers that thee array, Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay ? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend ? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Eat up thy charge ? Is this thy body's end ? Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, And let that pine to aggravate thy store ; Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross ; Within be fed, without...
Pàgina 130 - I am fled From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell. Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it, for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, If thinking on me then should make you woe. O, if, I say, you look upon this verse, When I, perhaps, compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poor name rehearse, But let your love even with my life decay, Lest the wise world should look into your moan, And mock you with me after I am gone.
Pàgina 131 - Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read, And tongues to be your being shall rehearse When all the breathers of this world are dead. You still shall live — such virtue hath my pen — Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.
Pàgina 99 - And brass eternal slave to mortal rage ; When I have seen the hungry ocean gain Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, And the firm soil win of the watery main, Increasing store with loss and loss with store; When I have seen such interchange of state...
Pàgina 17 - Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on so proud a back.
Pàgina 100 - What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend ? Since every one hath, every one, one shade, And you, but one, can every shadow lend. Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit Is poorly imitated after you ; On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, And you in Grecian tires are painted new...
Pàgina 99 - Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid ? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back ? Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid ? O none, unless this miracle have might, That in black ink my love may still shine bright.
Pàgina 112 - Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least ; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee...
Pàgina 134 - Every thing did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone : She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn, And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, That to hear it was great pity :
Pàgina 138 - The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, Though to itself it only live and die; But if that flower with base infection meet, The basest weed outbraves his dignity. For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.