An English Miscellany: Presented to Dr. Furnivall in Honour of His Seventy-fifth Birthday

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William Paton Ker, Arthur Sampson Napier, Walter William Skeat
Clarendon Press, 1901 - English literature - 500 pages
 

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Page 250 - Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.
Page 161 - Fie, fie, fie,' now would she cry ; ' Teru, teru ! ' by and by ; That to hear her so complain, Scarce I could from tears refrain ; For her griefs, so lively shown, Made me think upon mine own. Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain ! None takes pity on thy pain : Senseless trees they cannot hear thee ; Ruthless...
Page 111 - FLOWER in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower — but if I could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is.
Page 5 - It lies not in our power to love or hate, For will in us is overruled by fate. When two are stript, long ere the course begin, We wish that one should lose, the other win : And one especially do we affect Of two gold ingots, like in each respect : The reason no man knows ; let it suffice, What we behold is censured by our eyes. Where both deliberate, the love is slight ; Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight...
Page 251 - Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor : suit the action to the word, the word to the action ; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature...
Page 251 - 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 160 - As it fell upon a day In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of myrtles made, Beasts did leap and birds did sing, Trees did grow and plants did spring ; Every thing did banish moan Save the Nightingale alone. She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Lean'd her breast against a thorn, And there sung the dolefull'st ditty That to hear it was great pity. Fie, fie, fie...
Page 432 - The windings of the dell. — The rivulet, Wanton and wild, through many a green ravine Beneath the forest flowed. Sometimes it fell Among the moss, with hollow harmony Dark and profound. Now on the polished stones It danced ; like childhood, laughing as it went : Then, through the plain in tranquil wanderings crept, Reflecting every herb and drooping bud \ That overhung its quietness.
Page 252 - But pardon, gentles all, The flat unraised spirits that hath dar'd On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth So great an object; can this cockpit hold The vasty fields of France?
Page 159 - Everything did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone: She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn, And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, That to hear it was great pity. 'Fie, fie, fie...

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