New Illustrations of the Life, Studies, and Writings of Shakespeare, Volume 1J. B. Nichols and Son, 1845 |
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Page 284 - gentle Puck, come hither: thon remember'st Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back. Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music. PUCK. I remember.
Page 217 - CLAUDIUS. Ay, but to die and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot : This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the DELIGHTED SPIRIT To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice, &c.
Page 397 - Mark it, Csesario ; it is old and plain : The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chaunt it ; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the OLD AGE. of
Page 305 - In such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise : in such a night, Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls, And sighed his soul toward the Grecian tents Where Cressid lay that night.
Page 285 - in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon, And the imperial vot'ress passed on In maiden-meditation, fancy-free. Yet mark'dI where the bolt of Cupid fell : It fell upon a little western flower,— Before milk-white ; now purple with love's wound,— And maidens call it, Love in idleness. I
Page 339 - Here feel we NOT the penalty of Adam, The season's difference ; as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, 1 smile, and say This is no flattery ; these are
Page 398 - VIOLA. She never told her love, But let concealment like a worm i* the bud Feed on her damask cheek : she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat, like Patience on a monument Smiling
Page 310 - and let the sounds of musick Creep in our ears ; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica : Look ! how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patterns of bright gold ; There's not the smallest
Page 172 - Where the bee sucks, there suck I, In a cowslip's bell I lie, There I couch when owls do cry, On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under
Page 137 - or oil, No occupation,—all men idle—all ; And women, too, but innocent and pure ; No sovereignty. All things in common Nature should produce, Without sweat or endeavour ; treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have ; but Nature should bring forth Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent