The plays and poems of Shakespeare, according to the improved text of E. Malone, with notes and illustr., ed. by A.J. Valpy

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Page 184 - gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth, And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow. And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
Page 166 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Page 266 - Crabbed age and youth Cannot live together; Youth is full of pleasance, Age is full of care: Youth like summer morn, Age like winter weather ; Youth like summer brave, Age like winter bare. Youth is full of sport, Age's breath is short, Youth is nimble, age is lame : Youth is hot and bold, Age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and age is tame.
Page 158 - If it were fill'd with your most high deserts ? Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb Which hides your life and shows not half your parts. If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say 'This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.
Page 214 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
Page 165 - When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope...
Page 200 - Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
Page 200 - Farewell ! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate. The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing ; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting ? And for that riches where is my deserving ? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving.
Page 167 - And though they be outstripp'd by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, Exceeded by the height of happier men. O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought: ' Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age, A dearer birth than this his love had...
Page 235 - And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend Suspect I may, yet not directly tell; But being both from me, both to each friend, I guess one angel in another's hell. Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, Till my bad angel fire my good one out. CXLV Those lips that Love's own hand did make Breathed forth the sound that said "I hate...

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