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affection appear arms army beauty better breath cause CHAPTER conduct consider continued death desire earth equal ev'ry expression fair fall father fear feel fool fortune give hand happy hath head hear heart Heav'n hold honour hope hour human John kind king laws leave light live look lord manner means mind nature never night noble o'er once pain pass passion peace perfection person pleasure poor pow'r praise present reason rest round sense side soon soul sound speak spirit stand sweet taste tears tell thee things thou thought thousand true truth turn virtue voice whole wind wise wish writing young youth
Стр. 79 - ... accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
Стр. 77 - Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit: and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtile; natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend.
Стр. 153 - Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer; not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all freemen?
Стр. 317 - Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o...
Стр. 351 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast...
Стр. 352 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea. When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Стр. 248 - His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.
Стр. 325 - You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am arm'd so strong in honesty, That they pass by me as the idle wind Which I respect not.