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Seite 272 - O, for a muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention ! A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the swelling scene...
Seite 58 - There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dressed in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, As who should say, 'I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips let no dog bark'....
Seite 257 - What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one (from whence they came) Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life...
Seite 243 - With mask and antique pageantry: Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild.
Seite 31 - Mantua me genuit : Calabri rapuere : tenet nunc Parthenope : cecini pascua, rura, duces.
Seite 257 - But that which most doth take my muse and me, Is a pure cup of rich Canary wine, Which is the Mermaid's now, but shall be mine : Of which had Horace, or Anacreon tasted, Their lives, as do their lines, till now had lasted.
Seite 160 - Content!' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions. I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk; I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, Deceive more slily than Ulysses could, And, like a Sinon, take another Troy.
Seite 3 - And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
Seite 142 - All wounds have scars but that of fantasy; all affections their relenting, but that of womankind. Who is the judge of friendship but adversity? or when is grace witnessed but in offences? There were no divinity but by reason of compassion, for revenges are brutish and mortal. All those times past — the loves, the sighs, the sorrows, the desires, can they not weigh down one frail misfortune?