The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper;: Shakspeare, Davies, Donne, Hall, Stirling, Jonson, Corbet, Carew, DrummondSamuel Johnson J. Johnson; J. Nichols and son; R. Baldwin; F. and C. Rivington; W. Otridge and Son; Leigh and Sotheby; R. Faulder and Son; G. Nicol and Son; T. Payne; G. Robinson; Wilkie and Robinson; C. Davies; T. Egerton; Scatcherd and Letterman; J. Walker; Vernor, Hood, and Sharpe; R. Lea; J. Nunn; Lackington, Allen, and Company; J. Stockdale; Cuthell and Martin; Clarke and Sons; J. White and Company; Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme; Cadell and Davies; J. Barker; John Richardson; J.M. Richardson; J. Carpenter; B. Crosby; E. Jeffery; J. Murray; W. Miller; J. and A. Arch; Black, Parry, and Kingsbury; J. Booker; S. Bagster; J. Harding; J. Mackinlay; J. Hatchard; R.H. Evans; Matthews and Leigh; J. Mawman; J. Booth; J. Asperne; P. and W. Wynne; and W. Grace, Deighton and Son at Cambridge; and Wilson and Son at York, 1810 |
З цієї книги
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Сторінка 5
... turn ; or his own sagacity might have taught him that fame was not incompatible with profit , and that the theatre was an avenue to both . That it was once the general custom to ride on horse - back to the play , I am likewise yet to ...
... turn ; or his own sagacity might have taught him that fame was not incompatible with profit , and that the theatre was an avenue to both . That it was once the general custom to ride on horse - back to the play , I am likewise yet to ...
Сторінка 18
... turns his lips another way . Never did passenger in summer's heat More thirst for drink , than she for this good turn . Her help she sees , but help she cannot get ; She bathes in water , yet in fire must burn : " Oh pity , " ' gan she ...
... turns his lips another way . Never did passenger in summer's heat More thirst for drink , than she for this good turn . Her help she sees , but help she cannot get ; She bathes in water , yet in fire must burn : " Oh pity , " ' gan she ...
Сторінка 35
... turn to loathed sours , Even in the moment that we call them ours . " Unruly blasts wait on the tender spring ; Unwholesome weeds take root with precious flowers ; The adder hisses where the sweet birds sing ; What virtue breeds ...
... turn to loathed sours , Even in the moment that we call them ours . " Unruly blasts wait on the tender spring ; Unwholesome weeds take root with precious flowers ; The adder hisses where the sweet birds sing ; What virtue breeds ...
Сторінка 54
... turn sourest by their deeds ; Lilies that fester , smell far worse than weeds . SONNET XCV . How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame Which , like a canker in the fragrant rose , ' Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name ? O , in ...
... turn sourest by their deeds ; Lilies that fester , smell far worse than weeds . SONNET XCV . How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame Which , like a canker in the fragrant rose , ' Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name ? O , in ...
Сторінка 56
... turn'd , In process of the seasons have I seen , Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd , Since first I saw you fresh which yet are green . Ah ! yet doth beauty , like a dial hand , Steal from his figure , and no pace perceiv'd ...
... turn'd , In process of the seasons have I seen , Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd , Since first I saw you fresh which yet are green . Ah ! yet doth beauty , like a dial hand , Steal from his figure , and no pace perceiv'd ...
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Загальні терміни та фрази
angels Antinous bear beasts beauty BEN JONSON bloud body breath brest COUNTESS OF BEDFORD court dance dead dear death delight disdaine Donne dost doth Earth errour ev'ry eyes face fair falne false fame fear fire foes foul give glory God's grace grief grone hand hate hath haue hear heart Heaven Hell honour JOHN DONNE king kiss light live look Lord loue lov'd love's Lucrece lust mind Muse never night nought once pain pleasure poison'd poor pow'r praise prince quoth rage SATIRE SATIRE IV SATIRE VII scape scorn seem'd sense Shakspeare shalt shame sighs sight sinne sonne SONNET soul sprite straight strange Sunne sweet tears thee thence thine things thou art thou hast thought thyself tongue true truth twixt unto virtue weep Whil'st wilt wind wretched