The Orphan: And Venice Preserved

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D. C. Heath, 1908 - 351 Seiten
 

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Seite 181 - Angels are painted fair, to look like you : There's in you all that we believe of Heaven, Amazing brightness, purity, and truth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love.
Seite 273 - I'll henceforth be indeed a father ; never, Never more thus expose, but cherish thee, Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life ; Dear as these eyes that weep in fondness o'er thee.
Seite 167 - A sterile fortune and a barren bed Attend you both : continual discord make Your days and nights bitter, and grievous still ! May the hard hand of a vexatious need Oppress and grind you ; till at last you find The curse of disobedience all your portion.
Seite 172 - I'd not betray my friend, To get his place or fortune: I scorn to flatter A blown-up fool above me, or crush the wretch beneath me, Yet, Jaffeir, for all this, I am a villain!
Seite 193 - Pierre, whene'er thou seest my fears Betray me less, to rip this heart of mine Out of my breast, and show it for a coward's.
Seite 182 - When banished by our miseries abroad (As suddenly we shall be), to seek out (In some far climate where our names are strangers) For charitable succour; wilt thou then, When in a bed of straw we shrink together, And the bleak winds shall whistle round our heads, Wilt thou then talk thus to me ? Wilt thou then Hush my cares thus, and shelter me with love ? Belv.
Seite 265 - Witness it, earth, and every being witness; 'Tis but one blow; yet, by immortal love, I cannot longer bear a thought to harm thee; [He throws away the dagger and embraces her.
Seite 193 - Were there one wise or honest, I could kill him For herding with that nest of fools and knaves. By all my wrongs, thou talk'st as if revenge Were to be had, and the brave story warms me.
Seite 180 - Lead me, lead me, my virgins, To that kind voice. My lord, my love, my refuge ! Happy my eyes, when they behold thy face : My heavy heart will leave its doleful beating At sight of thee, and bound with sprightful joys.
Seite 257 - Never from this curs'd hour to hold communion, Friendship or interest with thee, though our years Were to exceed those limited the world. Take it — farewell — for now I owe thee nothing.

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