The Plays & Poems of Shakespeare: Venus & Adonis. The rape of Lucrece. Sonnets. A lover's complaint. The passionate pilgrim. Index to the striking passages & beauties (Google eBook)

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H:O. Bohn, 1857
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Page 158 - But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest ; Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest. So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Page 212 - Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, Can yet the lease of my true love control, Suppos'd as forfeit to a confin'd doom.
Page 266 - Crabbed age and youth Cannot live together ; Youth is full of pleasance, Age is full of care: Youth like summer morn, Age like winter weather ; Youth like summer brave, Age like winter bare. Youth is full of sport, Age's breath is short, Youth is nimble, age is lame : Youth is hot and bold, Age is weak and cold ; Youth is wild, and age is tame.
Page 213 - To leave for nothing all thy sum of good ; For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose ; in it thou art my all. ex. Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there, And made myself a motley to the view...
Page 218 - If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Page 231 - But wherefore says she not she is unjust? And wherefore say not I that I am old? O love's best habit is in seeming trust, And age in love loves not to have years told. Therefore I lie with her, and she with me, And in our faults by lies we flattered be.
Page 226 - Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait, On purpose laid to make the taker mad: Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof, and prov'd, a very woe; Before, a joy propos'd; behind, a dream.
Page 200 - Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? No, neither he, nor his compeers by night Giving him aid, my verse astonished. He, nor that affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, As victors of my silence cannot boast I was not sick of any fear...
Page 213 - Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify. As easy might I from myself depart As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie : That is my home of love : if I have ranged, Like him that travels I return again, Just to the time, not with the time exchanged, So that myself bring water for my stain.
Page 197 - 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.

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