Shakespeare Self-revealed in His Sonnets and Phoenix and TurtleSherratt & Hughes, 1904 - 275 pàgines |
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Shakespeare Self-Revealed in His Sonnets and Phoenix and Turtle J Mort Previsualització no disponible - 2023 |
Shakespeare Self-Revealed in His Sonnets and Phoenix and Turtle J Mort Previsualització no disponible - 2015 |
Shakespeare Self-Revealed in His Sonnets and Phoenix and Turtle J Mort Previsualització no disponible - 2023 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
actors Addresses Fame Addresses the Spirit beauty's Ben Jonson better Cæsar Caliban Chester's poem conceit dead dear death dedication desire doth dramatist evidence evil expressed eyes Faerie Queene fair fear Folio gentle give glory grace Hall Halliwell-Phillipps Hamlet hand hast hath heart heaven heavenly Horace Jonson King lines live look Love of Beauty Love of Fame Love's Martyr Lust of Fame manuscripts mistress Muse nature passion Passionate Pilgrim perfect Phoenix and Turtle plays poet poet's posterity praise Prospero published reference rhyme Robert Chester says seen self-love Shake Shakespeare Shakespeare's mind Shakespeare's Sonnets shalt shame Sidney Lee sight sorrow soul speak Spenser Spirit of Beauty STANZA Stratford Stratford-on-Avon thee thine things thou art thou dost thought thy love thy sweet thyself Tibullus Time's true truth Turtle Dove verse Virgil Whilst William Shakespeare words write written wrote youth
Passatges populars
Pàgina 74 - Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, Can yet the lease of my true love control, Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.
Pàgina 210 - How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower? O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out Against the wrackful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?
Pàgina 188 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Pàgina 236 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights ; Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express'd Even such a beauty as you master now.
Pàgina 240 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...
Pàgina 190 - Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace : » Referring to the obsequies for the dead.
Pàgina 229 - They that have power to hurt and will do none,' That do not do the thing they most do show, Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow, They rightly do inherit heaven's graces And husband nature's riches from expense ; They are the lords and owners of their faces, Others but stewards of their excellence.
Pàgina 216 - That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
Pàgina 203 - 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 235 - To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers' pride, Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd In process of the seasons have I seen, Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd, Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green. Ah ! yet...