Shakspeare and His Friends: Or, The Golden Age of Merry England

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Burgess, Stringer, 1847 - 315 pages
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Page 204 - O, for a muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention ! A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the swelling scene...
Page 261 - I'll read you matter deep and dangerous, As full of peril and adventurous spirit As to o'er-walk a current roaring loud On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.
Page 279 - The god of war resigns his room to me, Meaning to make me general of the world; Jove, viewing me in arms, looks pale and wan, Fearing my power should pull him from his throne; Where'er I come the Fatal Sisters sweat, And grisly Death, by running to and fro To do their ceaseless homage to my sword...
Page 319 - They that fawn'd on him before Use his company no more. He that is thy friend indeed, He will help thee in thy need: If thou sorrow, he will weep; If thou wake, he cannot sleep; Thus of every grief in heart He with thee doth bear a part. These are certain signs to know Faithful friend from flattering foe.
Page 187 - There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; As who should say, " I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips let no dog bark...
Page 261 - I cannot eat but little meat, My stomach is not good ; But sure I think, that I can drink With him that wears a hood...
Page 124 - I, that was wont to behold her riding like Alexander, hunting like Diana, walking like Venus, the gentle wind blowing her fair hair about her pure cheeks, like a nymph, sometime sitting in the shade like a goddess, sometime singing like an angel, sometime playing like Orpheus ; behold the sorrow of this world ! once amiss hath bereaved me of all.
Page 280 - Black is the beauty of the brightest day! The golden ball of heaven's eternal fire, That danced with glory on the silver waves, Now wants the fuel that inflamed his beams, And all with faintness and for foul disgrace He binds his temples with a frowning cloud, Ready to darken earth with endless night.
Page 291 - Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English. Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Page 231 - There is not in the compass of the light A more unhappy creature : Sure, I am monstrous ! For I have done those follies, those mad mischiefs, Would dare a woman. Oh, my loaden soul, Be not so cruel to me ; choke not up The way to my repentance ! Oh, my lord ! Enter AMINTOR.

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