Guy's new speaker, selections of poetry and prose from the best writers in the English languageJoseph Guy 1852 |
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Сторінка 44
... weep for Buckingham , His noble friends , and fellows , whom to leave Is only bitter to him , only dying , Go with me , like good angels , to my end ; And , as the long divorce of steel falls on me , Make of your prayers one sweet ...
... weep for Buckingham , His noble friends , and fellows , whom to leave Is only bitter to him , only dying , Go with me , like good angels , to my end ; And , as the long divorce of steel falls on me , Make of your prayers one sweet ...
Сторінка 45
... weep : but , thinking that We are a queen , ( or long have dream'd so , ) certain , The daughter of a king , my drops of tears I'll turn to sparks of fire . Wol . Be patient yet . Q. Kath . I will , when you are humble ; nay , before ...
... weep : but , thinking that We are a queen , ( or long have dream'd so , ) certain , The daughter of a king , my drops of tears I'll turn to sparks of fire . Wol . Be patient yet . Q. Kath . I will , when you are humble ; nay , before ...
Сторінка 56
... Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood , It would become me better , than to close In terms of friendship with thine enemies . Pardon me , Julius ! Here wast thou bay'd , brave heart ; Here didst thou fall ; and here thy hunters ...
... Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood , It would become me better , than to close In terms of friendship with thine enemies . Pardon me , Julius ! Here wast thou bay'd , brave heart ; Here didst thou fall ; and here thy hunters ...
Сторінка 59
... Which , whilst it was mine , had annex'd unto ' t A million more , now lost , -she , Eros , has Pack'd cards with Cæsar , and false play'd my glory Unto an enemy's triumph.- Nay , weep not , gentle SELECTIONS FROM SHAKSPERE . 59.
... Which , whilst it was mine , had annex'd unto ' t A million more , now lost , -she , Eros , has Pack'd cards with Cæsar , and false play'd my glory Unto an enemy's triumph.- Nay , weep not , gentle SELECTIONS FROM SHAKSPERE . 59.
Сторінка 60
Joseph Guy. Unto an enemy's triumph.- Nay , weep not , gentle Eros ! there is left us Ourselves to end ourselves . THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR . A ROOM IN THE GARTER INN . Falstaff and Bardolph . Fal . Bardolph , I say , - Bard . Here ...
Joseph Guy. Unto an enemy's triumph.- Nay , weep not , gentle Eros ! there is left us Ourselves to end ourselves . THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR . A ROOM IN THE GARTER INN . Falstaff and Bardolph . Fal . Bardolph , I say , - Bard . Here ...
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Інші видання - Показати все
Guy's New Speaker, Selections of Poetry and Prose from the Best Writers in ... Joseph Guy Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2016 |
Guy's New Speaker, Selections of Poetry and Prose from the Best Writers in ... Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2020 |
Загальні терміни та фрази
Bassora beauty behold blood breath bright brittle glory Cæsar charms clouds Cold fearful courser dead dear death delight dost doth drachmas dread earth elocution eyes face fair FALSTAFF fame father fear fire flowers fool gentle give glory grace grave grief hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven Hecat's Hecuba honour hope kind king labour light live look lord Lucilius Lycidas lyre Lysippus mind Muse nature ne'er never night noble numbers nymph o'er once OTHELLO pain passions peace Philippi pleased pleasure poor praise Priam pride prince Proteus Pyrrhus Rasselas rich round scene shade smile soft song sorrow soul sound speak spirit stream sweet tears tell tempest thee thine thing thou hast thought tongue trembling virtue voice Warren Hastings weep wild wind wings wonder younker youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 60 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears ; soft stillness, and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold.
Сторінка 356 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips - 'The foe! they come! they come!
Сторінка 101 - Alpheus, the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks; Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Сторінка 298 - To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. Beside the bed where parting life was laid. And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed, The reverend champion stood. At his control Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
Сторінка iv - O now, for ever, Farewell the tranquil mind ! Farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! And O, you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! lago.
Сторінка 6 - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Сторінка 297 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.
Сторінка 102 - Through the dear might of Him that walk'd the waves; Where, other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.