Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen und Literaturen, Volume 12

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Westermann, 1853 - Philology, Modern
 

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Page 159 - Do my face (If thou had'st ever feeling of a sorrow) Thus, thus, Antiphila : strive to make me look Like Sorrow's monument ; and the trees about me, Let them be dry and leafless ; let the rocks Groan with continual surges ; and behind me, Make all a desolation.
Page 146 - Your worth and virtue ; and, as I did grow More and more apprehensive, I did thirst To see the man so praised. But yet all this Was but a maiden-longing, to be lost As soon as found ; till, sitting in my window, Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god, I thought, (but it was you,) enter our gates : My blood flew out and back again, as fast As I had puffed it forth and sucked it in Like breath : then was I called away in haste To entertain you.
Page 163 - Or painful to his slumbers : easy, sweet, And as a purling stream, thou son of Night, Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain Like hollow murmuring wind, or silver rain : Into this prince, gently, oh gently slide, And kiss him into slumbers, like a bride.
Page 158 - Weeps for the ruin'd merchant, when he roars; Rather, the wind courts but the pregnant sails, When the strong cordage cracks ; rather, the sun Comes but to kiss the fruit in wealthy autumn, When all falls blasted.
Page 156 - You'll come, my lord, and see the virgins weep When I am laid in earth, though you yourself Can know no pity. Thus I wind myself Into this willow garland, and am prouder That I was once your love, though now refused, Than to have had another true to me.
Page 155 - Tell mirthful tales in course u, that fill the room With laughter, she will, with so sad a look, Bring forth a story of the silent death Of some forsaken virgin, which her grief Will put in such a phrase that, ere she end, She'll send them weeping one by one away.
Page 156 - Tis not the king ! Evad. What did he make this match for, dull Amintor? Amin. Oh, thou hast named a word, that wipes away All thoughts revengeful ! In that sacred name, " The king,
Page 171 - Beauty clear and fair. Where the air Rather like a perfume dwells ; Where the violet and the rose Their blue veins in blush disclose. And come to honour nothing else. Where to live near. And planted there. Is to live, and still live new ; Where to gain a favour is More than light, perpetual bliss. Make me live by serving you. Dear, again back recall To this light, A stranger to himself and all ; Both the wonder and the story Shall be yours, and eke the glory : I am your servant, and your thralL Mir.
Page 158 - tis enough, my wench ; Show me the piece of needle-work you wrought. Ant. Of Ariadne, madam ? . Asp. Yes, that piece. This should be Theseus, h' as a cozening face ; You meant him for a man ? Ant. He was so, madam, Asp. Why then 'tis well enough. Never look back, You have a full wind, and a false heart, Theseus.
Page 146 - So high in thoughts as I. You left a kiss Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep From you for ever; I did hear you talk, Far above singing.

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