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appeared beginning better born called cause century character Chaucer Church court death died doth early edition Elizabethan England English eyes fair fall father French give given hand hath heart heaven Henry Italy James John kind king known lady land later Latin learning less light lines literary literature live London look Lord matter means mind nature never night noble original passage passed play poem poet poetry printed probably prose published Queen rest Scotland Scottish seems Shakespeare song speak spirit story sweet tell thai thair thee things Thomas thou thought took translation true turned unto verse whole writing written wrote
Сторінка 367 - ... shores And make a sop of all this solid globe : Strength should be lord of imbecility, And the rude son should strike his father dead : Force should be right ; or rather, right and wrong, Between whose endless jar justice resides, Should lose their names, and so should justice too. Then...
Сторінка 370 - twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt ; the...
Сторінка 407 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Сторінка 364 - Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied : for though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted the sooner it wears.
Сторінка 358 - This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, For Christian service and true chivalry, As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son, This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, Dear for her reputation through the world...
Сторінка 368 - No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice.
Сторінка 351 - Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten: In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee, and be thy love.
Сторінка 367 - Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honour's at the stake.