Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen und Literaturen, Volume 8

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Westermann, 1851 - Languages, Modern
 

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Page 233 - tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly; if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease success : that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We'd jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgment here ; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor ; this even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own...
Page 132 - ild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord! we know what we are, but know not what we may be.
Page 138 - Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.
Page 233 - tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly: If the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, 'With his surcease, success ; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here. But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — We'd jump the life to come...
Page 83 - Such an act, That blurs the grace and blush of modesty Calls virtue, hypocrite ; takes off the rose From the fair forehead of an innocent love, And sets a blister there ; makes marriage vows As false as dicers...
Page 128 - Kite. Oh ! a mighty large bed ! bigger by half than the great bed of Ware— ten thousand people may lie in it together, and never feel one another.
Page 225 - That shades the village green; And watched my boat upon the brook — It was a regal galley — And sighed not for a joy on earth, Beyond the happy valley. "I wish I could once more recall That bright and blissful joy, And summon to my weary heart The feelings of a boy. But now on scenes of past delight I look, and feel no pleasure, As misers on the bed of death Gaze coldly on their treasure.
Page 85 - To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is, Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss: * So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
Page 164 - Ce sont vingt mille francs qu'il m'en pourra coûter; Mais pour vingt mille francs j'aurai droit de pester Contre l'iniquité de la nature humaine, Et de nourrir pour elle une immortelle haine.
Page 141 - And let those, that play your clowns, speak no more than is set down for them : for there be of them, that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too ; though, in the mean time, some necessary question}: of the play be then to be considered : that's villainous ; and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.

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