The Ancient British Drama ...

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Walter Scott
W. Miller, 1810 - 614 стор.

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Сторінка 225 - I have almost forgot the taste of fears : The time has been, my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek ; and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir As life were in't : I have supp'd full with horrors ; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, Cannot once start me.
Сторінка 352 - As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabean odours from the spicy shore Of Araby the Blest; with, such delay Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league Cheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles...
Сторінка 228 - Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store, Sees but a backward steward for the poor ; This year, a reservoir, to keep and spare ; The next, a fountain, spouting through his heir, In lavish streams to quench a country's thirst, And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst.
Сторінка 41 - Ha! I can stand thee. Nearer, nearer yet. What a mockery hath death made of thee? Thou look'st sad. In what place art thou? in yon starry gallery, Or in the cursed dungeon? No? not speak? Pray, sir, resolve me, what religion's best For a man to die in? or is it in your knowledge To answer me how long I have to live?
Сторінка 36 - O thou soft natural death, that art joint-twin To sweetest slumber ! no rough-bearded comet Stares on thy mild departure ; the dull owl Beats not against thy casement ; the hoarse wolf Scents not thy carrion. Pity winds thy corse Whilst horror waits on princes.
Сторінка 288 - O, it is monstrous! monstrous! Methought, the billows spoke, and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd The name of Prosper; it did bass my trespass. Therefore my son i" the ooze is bedded ; and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, And with him there lie mudded.
Сторінка 577 - And three months' sickness sucks up life in 'em. They denied me often flour, barm, (and milk, Goose-grease and tar, when I ne'er hurt their churnings, Their brew-locks nor their batches, nor forespoke Any of their breedings. Now I'll be meet with 'em.
Сторінка 531 - But hold some two days conference with the dead, From them I should learn somewhat I am sure I never shall know here. I'll tell thee a miracle ; I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow. Th...
Сторінка 533 - Not a whit: What would it pleasure me to have my throat cut With diamonds ? or to be smothered With cassia? or to be shot to death with pearls ? I know death hath ten thousand several doors For men to take their exits ; and 'tis found They go on such strange geometrical hinges, You may open them both ways: any way, for heaven sake, So I were out of your whispering.
Сторінка 596 - em), and they lose not by 'I . I give 'em barley soak'd in infants' blood : They shall have semina cum sanguine, Their gorge cramm'd full, if they come once to our house : We are no niggard.

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