Shakspere's As You Like it

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Scott, Foresman, 1903 - 207 Seiten
 

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Seite 72 - The seasons' difference ; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — This is no flattery : these are counsellors, That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Seite 73 - Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood : To the which place a poor...
Seite 22 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...
Seite 80 - Ay, now am I in Arden ; the more fool I : when I was at home, I was in a better place : but travellers must be content.
Seite 90 - Invest me in my motley ; give me leave To speak my mind, and I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, If they will patiently receive my medicine.
Seite 89 - 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 115 - When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child Understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room.
Seite 73 - To-day, my lord of Amiens and myself Did steal behind him, as he lay along Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood...
Seite 51 - They say, he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him ; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England. They say, many young gentlemen flock to him every day ; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.
Seite 93 - Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time ; If ever you have look'd on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast, If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be : In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword.

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