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able action appear arms attention beauty body consider death delight desire earth express eyes fair fall father fear follow give grace half hand happy head hear heart heaven honor hope hour human Italy kind Lady laws learning less light live look Lord manner master means mind morning nature never night o'er object observe once pain particular pass passion person play pleasure poor praise present proper raise reason rest rise round rule sense short side sometimes soon soul sound speaking spirit stand sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought thousand tion true truth turn uncle virtue voice whole wish young youth
Сторінка 351 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And, — when I am forgotten, as I shall be ; And sleep in dull cold marble...
Сторінка 232 - Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers, In mingled clouds to Him whose Sun exalts, Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints. Ye forests, bend, ye harvests, wave to Him ; Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart, As home he goes beneath the joyous Moon.
Сторінка 376 - I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause ; What cause withholds you then to mourn for him ? O judgment ! thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason.
Сторінка 375 - Romans, countrymen, and lovers ! hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear : believe me for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe : censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his.
Сторінка 358 - Caius Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts; Dash him to pieces!
Сторінка 368 - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin...
Сторінка 233 - tis nought to me; Since God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste as in the city full ; And where He vital breathes there must be joy.
Сторінка 256 - Married to immortal verse ; Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes, with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out, With wanton heed and giddy cunning ; The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus...
Сторінка 264 - The bottles twain, behind his back, were shattered at a blow. Down ran the wine into the road, most piteous to be seen, Which made his horse's flanks to smoke as they had basted been. But still he...
Сторінка 365 - My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: She swore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful: She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man...