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Page 269 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Page 231 - Weep with me, all you that read This little story : And know, for whom a tear you shed Death's self is sorry. 'Twas a child that so did thrive In grace and feature, As heaven and nature seemed to strive Which owned the creature.
Page 330 - Soul of the age! The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live And we have wits to read and praise to give.
Page 160 - Camden, most reverend head, to whom I owe All that I am in arts, all that I know (How nothing's that); to whom my country owes The great renown and name wherewith she goes; Than thee the age sees not that thing more grave, More high, more holy, that she more would crave.
Page 31 - The fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as, at this day, to Indians known; In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms, Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade, High overarch'd, and echoing walks between...
Page 330 - To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame ; While I confess thy writings to be such, As neither man, nor muse, can praise too much, 'Tis true, and all men's suffrage.
Page 442 - But I have and do reverence him for the greatness that was only proper to himself, in that he seemed to me ever, by his work, one of the greatest men, and most worthy of admiration, that had been in many ages. In his adversity I ever prayed that God would give him strength; for greatness he could not want.* Neither could I condole* in a word or syllable for him, as knowing no accident* could do harm to virtue, but rather help to make it manifest.
Page 332 - Euripides, and Sophocles to us, Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead, To life again, to hear thy buskin tread, And shake a stage; or, when thy socks were on, Leave thee alone for the comparison Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Rome Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.
Page 194 - I meant the day-star should not brighter rise, Nor lend like influence from his lucent seat. I meant she should be courteous, facile, sweet, Hating that solemn vice of greatness — pride ; I meant each softest virtue there should meet, Fit in that softer bosom to reside. Only a learned and manly soul I purposed her : that should, with even powers, The rock, the spindle, and the shears control Of Destiny, and spin her own free hours.