William Shakespeare's Sonette, in deutscher Nachbildung von F. Bodenstedt

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1862
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Page 183 - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin...
Page 186 - twill endure wind and weather. Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on : Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave, And leave the world no copy.
Page 215 - TO THE ONLY BEGETTER OF THESE ENSUING SONNETS, MR. WH ALL HAPPINESS AND THAT ETERNITY PROMISED BY OUR EVER-LIVING POET, WISHETH THE WELL-WISHING ADVENTURER IN SETTING FORTH, TTi 1 T, T.] i. e.
Page 187 - And peace proclaims olives of endless age. Now with the drops of this most balmy time My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes. Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme, While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes; And thou in this shalt find thy monument, When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.
Page 231 - Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime ; So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.
Page 190 - A spacious field of reasons could I urge, Between his glory, daughter, and thy shame : That poison shows worst in a golden cup ; Dark night seems darker by the lightning flash ; Lilies, that fester, smell far worse than weeds ; And every glory that inclines to sin, The shame is treble by the opposite.
Page 180 - Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing. For why should others' false adulterate eyes Give salutation to my sportive blood ? Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, Which in their wills count bad what I think good ; No; I am that I am; and they that level At my abuses reckon up their own. I may be straight though they themselves be bevel; By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown...
Page 185 - Making them lightest that wear most of it: So are those crisped snaky golden locks "Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, Upon supposed fairness, often known To be the dowry of a second head, The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
Page 188 - Our love was new, and then but in the spring, When I was wont to greet it with my lays; As Philomel in summer's front doth sing, And stops her pipe in growth of riper days...
Page 188 - Love's not love When it is mingled with regards that stand Aloof from the entire point.

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