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Seite 213 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; And, with some sweet, oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
Seite 56 - Whom his ain son o' life bereft, The grey hairs yet stack to the heft ; Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', Which ev"n to name wad be unlawfu'. As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious : The piper loud and louder blew ; The dancers quick and quicker flew ; They...
Seite 59 - Fie, fie upon her ! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive t of her body.
Seite 140 - To sigh, yet feel no pain, To weep, yet scarce know why ; To sport an hour with Beauty's chain, Then throw it idly by. To kneel at many a shrine, Yet lay the heart on none ; To think all other charms divine, But those we just have won. This is love, faithless love, Such as kindleth hearts that rove.
Seite 59 - There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body. O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue, That give a coasting welcome ere it comes.
Seite 453 - How, if he will not stand ?"— " Why, then, take no note of him, and let him go, and thank God you are rid of a knave.
Seite 363 - I dreamt my lady came and found me dead — Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave to think ! — And breathed such life with kisses in my lips, That I revived and was an emperor. Ah me ! how sweet is love itself possessed, When but love's shadows are so rich in joy ! Enter BALTHASAR.
Seite 7 - O! friend! whosalt'st beside me inthe hour When Death was at my hearth, and in my home The mother's cry of wailing for that doom Long hovering, which at last with fatal Descended, like the vulture on his prey, And in his talons bore away our young!