The Works of William Shakespeare: Pericles. The two noble kinsmen. Venus and Adonis. Lucrece. Sonnets. A lover's complaint. The passionate pilgrim. The phoenix and turtle (Google eBook)
Chapman and Hall, 1876 - 1124 pages
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Arcite Bawd beauty blood Boult breath cheeks Cleon Collatine Collier Coun cousin Daugh daughter dead dear death Dionyza dost doth editors of 1778 Emilia Enter Ephesus Exam Exeunt eyes fair fear flowers foul Gaoler gentle give gods grief hath hear heart heaven Helicanus Hippolyta honour king kiss lady lips live look lord lov'd love's Love's Labour's lost Lucrece Lysimachus maid Malone Marina mistress modern editors Mytilene ne'er never night noble Noble Kinsmen old eds Palamon Pentapolis Pericles Pirithous pity poison'd poor pray prince prince of Tyre quarto queen quoth Scene Seward Shakespeare shalt shame Simonides sorrow soul Steevens sweet Tarquin tears tell Thaisa Tharsus Thebes thee Theseus thine thing thou art thought thyself tongue true Tyre unto Walker's Crit weep wilt wind Wooer words
Page 404 - 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.
Page 376 - Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme ; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory. 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth ; your praise shall still find room, Even in the eyes of all posterity, That wear this world...
Page 385 - That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
Page 364 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night...
Page 407 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Page 389 - I, once gone, to all the world must die : The earth can yield me but a common grave. When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read ; And tongues to be, your being shall rehearse, When all the breathers of this world are dead ; You still shall live (such virtue hath my pen) Where breath most breathes, — even in the mouths of men.
Page 363 - When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries And look upon myself and curse my fate. Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope.
Page 402 - And peace proclaims olives of endless age. Now with the drops of this most balmy time My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes, Since spite of him I'll live in this poor rhyme, While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes. And thou in this shall find thy monument, When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.
Page 355 - And sable curls all(O silver'd o'er with white ; When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green, all girded up in sheaves, Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard ; Then of thy beauty do I question make, That thou among the wastes of time must go...