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alten Ballade bear beiden besonders Betrachtung bezeichnet citirt Clown come death Dichter doth Dramatiker Dream eigentlich Elemente erscheinen ersten erwähnt eyes fair Fall finden findet first flowers Folge folgende Fool Form frühern ganze Gedichte gewissem gleichen good grossen hand häufig have head heart heaven Henry indem King know König kurz lady lassen lässt lautet letzte lich Liebe Lied live Lord love Lyrik lyrischen made maid make merry music Musik muss Namen Natur never night oben Person Puck Rede reich Reim Romeo sagen sagt Scene Schluss Seite Shakspere Shakspere's shall sing singt Sinne Sonette Song Sprache spricht Stellen Strophe Stückes sweet take Tempest thee Theil their Then thing thou time Titel true Vers Verse Weise weiter weniger Werken white wieder will willow wind wohl Wort
Сторінка 99 - It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-field did pass In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: Sweet lovers love the spring.
Сторінка 143 - When daffodils begin to peer, With heigh ! the doxy over the dale, Why then comes in the sweet o' the year ; For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale. The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, With heigh ! the sweet birds, O, how they sing ! Doth set my pugging tooth on edge ; For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. The lark that tirra-lirra...
Сторінка 31 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them...
Сторінка 82 - Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life ; Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows Do, with their death, bury their parents
Сторінка 30 - Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks! You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head! And thou all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o
Сторінка 81 - If we shadows have offended. Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend...
Сторінка 44 - When that the general is not like the hive, To whom the foragers shall all repair, What honey is expected ? Degree being vizarded, The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask. The heavens themselves, the planets and this centre, Observe degree, priority, and place...
Сторінка 40 - Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet ; For every pelting, petty officer, Would use his heaven for thunder ; nothing but thunder.
Сторінка 136 - The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it ; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
Сторінка 119 - Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing ; To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing die.