The Poetical Works of William ShakespeareLittle, Brown, 1866 - 288 стор. |
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Сторінка lxxviii
... dear nymph , he oft had been , And here to thee he sacrific'd his tears : Fair Arden , thou my Tempe art alone , And thou , sweet Anker , art my Helicon . " Henry Constable appears to have been strangely overrated by his contemporaries ...
... dear nymph , he oft had been , And here to thee he sacrific'd his tears : Fair Arden , thou my Tempe art alone , And thou , sweet Anker , art my Helicon . " Henry Constable appears to have been strangely overrated by his contemporaries ...
Сторінка lxxix
... dear salvation dar'd ; And , like the Philistine , stood breathing still Proud threats against my soul , for heaven prepar❜d . At length , I like an angel shall appear , In spotless white , an angel's crown to wear . " Let us now turn ...
... dear salvation dar'd ; And , like the Philistine , stood breathing still Proud threats against my soul , for heaven prepar❜d . At length , I like an angel shall appear , In spotless white , an angel's crown to wear . " Let us now turn ...
Сторінка 72
... dear friend , this desire " Might have excuse to work upon his wife ; " As in revenge or quittal of such strife : " But as he is my kinsman , my dear friend , " The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end " Shameful it is ; -ay , if the ...
... dear friend , this desire " Might have excuse to work upon his wife ; " As in revenge or quittal of such strife : " But as he is my kinsman , my dear friend , " The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end " Shameful it is ; -ay , if the ...
Сторінка 80
... her bare breast , the heart of all her land ; Whose ranks of blue veins , as his hand did scale , Left their round turrets destitute and pale . They mustering to the quiet cabinet Where their dear governess 80 THE POEMS.
... her bare breast , the heart of all her land ; Whose ranks of blue veins , as his hand did scale , Left their round turrets destitute and pale . They mustering to the quiet cabinet Where their dear governess 80 THE POEMS.
Сторінка 81
William Shakespeare. They mustering to the quiet cabinet Where their dear governess and lady lies , Do tell her she is dreadfully beset , And fright her with confusion of their cries : She , much amaz'd , breaks ope her lock'd - up eyes ...
William Shakespeare. They mustering to the quiet cabinet Where their dear governess and lady lies , Do tell her she is dreadfully beset , And fright her with confusion of their cries : She , much amaz'd , breaks ope her lock'd - up eyes ...
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Загальні терміни та фрази
Adonis bear beauty beauty's behold Ben Jonson bequeath blood breast breath cheeks Collatine daughter dead dear death delight desire doth dramas English Dram face fair false fault fear fire flower foul Francis Collins gentle give grace grief Hamnet hand hast hate hath hear heart heaven honour John Shakespeare Jonson king kiss lips live looks Lord love's Lucrece lust MALONE mind moan never night pale pity play poet poison'd poor praise proud queen quoth RAPE OF LUCRECE Richard Barnefield Richard Burbage Shak Shake Shakespeare shame sighs sight sing Sonnets sorrow soul Stratford Susanna Hall sweet Tarquin tears theatre thee thine eye thing Thomas Lucy thou art thou dost thou wilt thought thyself time's tongue true truth unto Venus and Adonis verse weep Welcombe William William Shakespeare wind WITCH words wound Yorkshire Tragedy youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 153 - Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date...
Сторінка 153 - But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest ; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest : So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
Сторінка 265 - Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; In a cowslip's bell I lie : There I couch*. When owls do cry, '} \ On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Сторінка 273 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who...
Сторінка 226 - Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still : The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
Сторінка 275 - Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude.
Сторінка 47 - Which after him she darts, as one on shore Gazing upon a late-embarked friend, Till the wild waves will have him seen no more, Whose ridges with the meeting clouds contend : So did the merciless and pitchy night Fold in the object that did feed her sight.
Сторінка 160 - 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, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate ; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Сторінка 274 - Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head ? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. It is engender'd in the eyes, With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell : I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell ALL.
Сторінка 222 - Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks, Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied? Why should my heart think that a several plot Which my heart knows the wide world's common place? Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not, To put fair truth upon so foul a face ? In things right true my heart and eyes have err'd, And to this false plague are they now transferr'd. CXXXVIII. When my love swears that she is made of truth I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor'd...