Shakespere's A Midsummer Night's Dream

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Longmans, Green, 1895 - 111 pages
 

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Page 84 - I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was : man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was — there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, — and methought I had, — but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had.
Page xxv - 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 80 - My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; Crook-kneed, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls; Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly : Judge when you hear, — But, soft!
Page xxv - Yet three filled zodiacs had he been The stage's jewel; And did act (what now we moan) Old men so duly As. sooth, the Parcae thought him one, He played so truly. So by error to his fate They all consented; But viewing him since (alas, too late) They have repented. And have sought (to give new birth) In baths to steep him; But, being so much too good for earth, Heaven vows to keep him.
Page 36 - Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby ; lulla, lulla, lullaby ; Never harm, nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So, good night, with lullaby.
Page 79 - Sparta : never did I hear Such gallant chiding ; for, besides the groves, The skies, the fountains, every region near, Seem'd all one mutual cry : I never heard So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.
Page 7 - But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn, Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
Page 34 - I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows ; Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine...
Page 87 - The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact : One sees more devils than vast hell can hold ; That is the madman : the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, And, as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name.
Page 9 - Making it momentary as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream ; Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth. And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold ! The jaws of darkness do devour it up : So quick bright things come to confusion.

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