The Works of William Shakespeare: Pericles. The two noble kinsmen. Venus and Adonis. Lucrece. Sonnets. A lover's complaint. The passionate pilgrim. The phœnix and turtle. Addenda and corrigenda
Chapman and Hall, 1866
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altered Arcite arms bear beauty better blood Boult breath bring comes Daugh daughter dead dear death desire doth editors Enter Exam eyes face fair fall father fear fire flowers follow fortune Gaoler give gods grace grief hand hast hath head hear heart heaven hold honour hour I'll keep kind king lady leave light live look lord love's maid Malone means mind never night noble old eds once Palamon passage Pericles play poor pray present prince printed quarto queen SCENE Shakespeare shame sight sorrow soul speak stand strong sweet tears tell thee thine thing Third thou art thought tongue true Walker Walker's Crit weep wind wish
Seite 381 - When I have seen the hungry ocean gain Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, And the firm soil win of the watery main, Increasing store with loss and loss with store; When I have seen such interchange of state, Or state itself confounded to decay; Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate, That Time will come and take my love away. This thought is as a death, which cannot choose But weep to have that which it fears to lose.
Seite 376 - Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall out-live this powerful rhyme ; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory. 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth : your praise shall still find room Even in the eyes of all posterity, That wear this...
Seite 389 - Though I, once gone, to all the world must die. The earth can yield me but a common grave, When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read, And tongues to be your being shall rehearse When all the breathers of this world are dead. You still shall live — such virtue hath my pen — Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.
Seite 365 - With all-triumphant splendour on my brow; But out, alack ! he was but one hour mine, The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now. Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth; Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth.
Seite 363 - 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.
Seite 363 - 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 398 - From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any summer's story tell...
Seite 398 - They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, As with your shadow I with these did play : xcix.
Seite 361 - ... lies ; Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still, That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes. Now, see what good turns eyes for eyes have done : Mine eyes have drawn thy shape , and thine for me Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun Delights to peep , to gaze therein on thee ; Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art, They draw but what they see , know not the heart.
Seite 457 - If music and sweet poetry agree, As they must needs, the sister and the brother, Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me, Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other. Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch Upon the lute doth ravish human sense; Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such As, passing all conceit, needs no defence. Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound That Phoebus...