Shakespeare, the Man: An Essay

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McClure, Phillips & Company, 1901 - 72 Seiten
 

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Seite 44 - To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run, How many make the hour full complete...
Seite 61 - Dis's waggon! daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath...
Seite 16 - It was a barren scene, and wild, Where naked cliffs were rudely piled; But ever and anon between Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green; And well the lonely infant knew Recesses where the wall-flower grew, And honey-suckle loved to crawl Up the low crag and ruined wall.
Seite 45 - And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, ' It is ten o'clock : Thus may we see...
Seite 19 - Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rill Watered the garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the nether flood, Which from his darksome passage now appears, And now divided into four main streams, Runs diverse, wandering many a famous realm And country whereof here needs no account...
Seite 16 - Thus while I ape the measure wild Of tales that charm'd me yet a child, Rude though they be, still with the chime Return the thoughts of early time ; And feelings, roused in life's first day, Glow in the line, and prompt the lay. Then rise those crags, that mountain tower. Which charm'd my fancy's wakening hour.
Seite 44 - Ah, what a life were this ! how sweet ! how lovely ! Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings, that fear their subjects
Seite 45 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale.
Seite 45 - To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? O, yes it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth. And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates, His viands sparkling in a golden cup, • His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
Seite 46 - Why, let the stricken deer go weep, The hart ungalled play; For some must watch, while some must sleep; So runs the world away.

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