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Amer. Book Company, 1909
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Page 55 - Phoebus gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chalic'd flowers that lies ; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes : With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet arise ; Arise, arise ! Clo.
Page 111 - O thou goddess, Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st In these two princely boys! They are as gentle As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head: and yet as rough, Their royal blood enchafd, as the rud'st wind, That by the top doth take the mountain pine, And make him stoop to the vale.
Page 116 - Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak. The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Page 218 - Full little knowest thou that hast not tride, What hell it is, in suing long to bide : To loose good dayes, that might be better spent...
Page 68 - And that most venerable man which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamped ; some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit : yet my mother seem'd The Dian of that time ; so doth my wife The nonpareil of this.
Page 13 - This play has many just sentiments, some natural dialogues, and some pleasing scenes, but they are obtained at the expense of much incongruity. To remark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the conduct, the confusion of the names and manners of different times, and the impossibility of the events in any system of life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting imbecility, upon faults too evident for detection, and too gross for aggravation.
Page 220 - Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any summer's story tell...
Page 189 - If we should fail? Lady M. We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey Soundly invite him his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason A limbeck only...
Page 83 - tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword ; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile ; * whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states,3 Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters.
Page 280 - With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave : thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azured hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...

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