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Сторінка 57 - Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off...
Сторінка 41 - When I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, factions, and debates of mankind.
Сторінка 59 - I am the more at ease in Sir ROGER'S family, because it consists of sober and staid persons; for as the knight is the best master in the world, he seldom changes his servants; and as he is beloved by all about him, his servants never care for leaving him. By this means his domestics are all in years, and grown old with their master. You would take his valet...
Сторінка 59 - As the great eye of heaven, shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place ; Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace. It fortuned, out of the thickest wood A ramping lion rushed suddenly, Hunting full greedy after salvage blood.
Сторінка 58 - Th' applause of listening senates to command, The threats of Pain and Ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land. And read their history in a nation's eyes...
Сторінка 54 - Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules Passions, desires, and fears, is more a king; Which every wise and virtuous man attains...
Сторінка 54 - Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind.
Сторінка 53 - The sense of death is most in apprehension ; And the poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
Сторінка 41 - Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear: If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, • Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now.

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