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Agathocles Antiparos appeared beautiful Belfield blessing Blithe Caius Verres Calista Cecilia character cheerfulness Columbus Cromwell cubits Danube daugh daughter dear death Delv Delvill endeavour enemies eyes fall father favour feel feet fire fortune Genoa Gent give ground hand happy heard heart heaven Hispaniola honour hope human hundred Hunks Indians island king Lady length live look lumbus Madam mankind manner marriage married means miles mind Miss Beverly Miss Wal mountains Myrt nature ness never Noah Webster passions Patricians peace Perrin person philosopher pleasure Plebian Pocahontas Powhatan prince Putnam render river Roche Roman savage scene Servius Tullius soon soul Spain speak stone Syph Syphax tears thee ther thing thou thought tion treaty virtue voice Volcanoes of Iceland whole woman words young
Page 220 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble...
Page 218 - This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth ; my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Page 218 - Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience.
Page 177 - Tis Education forms the common mind, Just as the Twig is bent, the Tree's inclin'd.
Page 223 - O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb, That carries anger as the flint bears fire, Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark And straight is cold again.
Page 222 - You say you are a better soldier: Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well. For mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. Cas. You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus; I said, an elder soldier, not a better: Did I say better?
Page 222 - All this? ay, more: Fret till your proud heart break; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you; for, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish.
Page 22 - The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherits, shall dissolve ; And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wreck behind ! we are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.