Our English Homer: Or, Shakespeare Historically Considered

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S. Low, Marston, limited, 1892 - 297 sider
 

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Side 223 - The fear of every man that heard him was lest he should make an end.
Side 217 - Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves ; And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him, When he comes back...
Side 208 - O my love ! my wife ! Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty : Thou art not conquer'd ; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Side 216 - 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...
Side 35 - That for some vicious mole of nature in them, As, in their birth, (wherein they are not guilty, Since nature cannot choose his origin,) By their o'ergrowth of some complexion, Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason...
Side 230 - Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, That can denote me truly: These, indeed, seem, For they are actions that a man might play : But I have that within, which passeth show; These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.
Side 251 - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, — often the surfeit of our own behaviour, — we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars...
Side 275 - Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: Even so my sun one early morn did shine With all-triumphant splendour on my brow; But, out, alack ! he was but one hour mine, The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now. Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth; Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth.
Side 118 - The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, which in their seeds And weak beginnings lie intreasured. Such things become the hatch and brood of time...
Side 265 - The letter, as I live, with all the business I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell ! I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness : And, from that full meridian of my glory, I haste now to my setting. I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the evening, And no man see me more.

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