The Poems of Shakespeare, Band 37Bell and Daldy, 1866 - 288 Seiten |
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Seite lxxii
... thyself ! Self - imitating passeth precious stones ; For all the Eastern - Indian golden pelf , Thy red and white with purest fair attones . Matchless for beauty Nature hath thee fram'd , Only unkind and cruel thou art nam'd . " What ...
... thyself ! Self - imitating passeth precious stones ; For all the Eastern - Indian golden pelf , Thy red and white with purest fair attones . Matchless for beauty Nature hath thee fram'd , Only unkind and cruel thou art nam'd . " What ...
Seite 11
... thyself , be of thyself rejected , " Steal thine own freedom , and complain on theft . 66 66 Narcissus , so , himself himself forsook , " And died to kiss his shadow in the brook . " Torches are made to light , jewels to wear ...
... thyself , be of thyself rejected , " Steal thine own freedom , and complain on theft . 66 66 Narcissus , so , himself himself forsook , " And died to kiss his shadow in the brook . " Torches are made to light , jewels to wear ...
Seite 12
... thyself art dead ; " And so in spite of death thou dost survive , " In that thy likeness still is left alive . ” By this , the love - sick queen began to sweat , For , where they lay , the shadow had forsook them , And Titan , ' tired ...
... thyself art dead ; " And so in spite of death thou dost survive , " In that thy likeness still is left alive . ” By this , the love - sick queen began to sweat , For , where they lay , the shadow had forsook them , And Titan , ' tired ...
Seite 33
... thyself , all stain'd with gore ; " Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed , " Doth make them droop with grief , and hang the head . " What should I do , seeing thee so indeed , " That tremble at the imagination ? " The thought ...
... thyself , all stain'd with gore ; " Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed , " Doth make them droop with grief , and hang the head . " What should I do , seeing thee so indeed , " That tremble at the imagination ? " The thought ...
Seite 37
... thyself thyself art made away ; " A mischief worse than civil home - bred strife , " Or theirs , whose desperate hands themselves do slay , " Or butcher - sire , that reaves his son of life . 66 Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure ...
... thyself thyself art made away ; " A mischief worse than civil home - bred strife , " Or theirs , whose desperate hands themselves do slay , " Or butcher - sire , that reaves his son of life . 66 Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Adonis bear beauty beauty's behold Ben Jonson bequeath blood Boswell breast breath cheeks Collatine daughter dead dear death delight desire doth dramas face fair false fault fear fire flower foul Francis Collins gentle give grace grief Hamnet hand hast hate hath hear heart heaven honour John Shakespeare Jonson king kiss lips live looks Lord love's Lucrece lust Malone may'st mind never night pale pity play POEMS poet poison'd poor praise Priam proud queen quoth Rape of Lucrece Richard Burbage Shak Shakespeare shame sighs sight sing Sonnets sorrow soul Stratford Susanna Hall swear sweet Tarquin tears theatre thee thine eye thing Thomas Lucy thou art thou dost thou wilt thought thyself time's tongue true truth unto Venus and Adonis verse weep Welcombe William William Shakespeare wind WITCH words wound Yorkshire Tragedy youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 218 - Past reason hated, as a swallowed bait, On purpose laid to make the taker mad: Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
Seite 284 - Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake : Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. All. Double, double toil and trouble, Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. 3 Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf : Witches...
Seite 174 - But you like none, none you, for constant heart. LIV O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly When summer's breath their masked buds discloses; But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, Die to themselves....
Seite 153 - But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest ; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest : So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
Seite 269 - 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 the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Seite 276 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who...
Seite 39 - With this, he breaketh from the sweet embrace Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast, And homeward through the dark laund runs apace ; Leaves Love upon her back deeply distress'd. Look, how a bright star shooteth from the sky, So glides he in the night from Venus...
Seite 279 - Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c.
Seite 159 - Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least ; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate ; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Seite 202 - To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers...