For School Reading Tales from Shakespeare's Comedies (Google eBook)

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Harper & bros., 1890 - Readers - 269 pages
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Page 259 - Even here undone ! I was not much afeard : for once, or twice, I was about to speak ; and tell him plainly, The selfsame sun, that shines upon his court, Hides not his visage from our cottage, but Looks on alike. Will 't please you, sir, be gone?
Page 223 - It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes. Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown ; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; But mercy is above this sceptered sway ; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings ; It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice.
Page 203 - Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad.' ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in, stones, and good in every thing.
Page 103 - Tarry a little ; there is something else. This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood, The words expressly are, a pound of flesh...
Page 256 - Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, And for thy maintenance commits his body To painful labour both by sea and land...
Page 102 - It doth appear you are a worthy judge ; You know the law, your exposition Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law, Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, Proceed to judgment: by my soul I swear, There is no power in the tongue of man To alter me : I stay here on my bond.
Page 223 - Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn; happier than this, She is not bred so dull but she can learn; Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed, As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Page 140 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it.
Page 61 - When service should in my old limbs lie lame And unregarded age in corners thrown : Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ; All this I give you.
Page 140 - Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown ; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown : A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O ! where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there.

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