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Seite 196 - WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Seite 233 - Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content ; The quiet mind is richer than a crown ; Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent ; The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown : Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss, Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.
Seite 196 - TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind, — That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field ; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore ; I could not love thee, dear, so much. Loved I not honour more.
Seite 317 - LOVE not me for comely grace, For my pleasing eye or face, Nor for any outward part, No, nor for a constant heart : For these may fail or turn to ill, So thou and I shall sever : Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye, And love me still but know not why — So hast thou the same reason still To doat upon me ever ! Anonymous.
Seite 1 - The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy, And wit me warns to shun such snares as threaten mine annoy. For falsehood now doth flow, and subjects' faith doth ebb ; Which would not be if Reason ruled, or Wisdom weaved the web.
Seite 22 - your father would have gone further." " Your majesty's father would not have gone so far," replied the duke. He ordered Huddleston, the priest, to publish a relation of Charles's dying in the communion of the Church of Rome, and he himself became the publisher of two papers, which he declared in his own royal name, and under his signature, were found by him in his brother's strong box ; their tendency being...
Seite 317 - Love not me for comely grace, For my pleasing eye or face, Nor for any outward part, No, nor for my constant heart, — For those may fail, or turn to ill, So thou and I shall sever : Keep therefore a true woman's eye, And love me still, but know not why—- So hast thou the same reason still To doat upon me ever ! Anon.
Seite 164 - Venus' sweet delight, Of late had chang'd the tenor of her string To higher tunes than serve for Cupid's fight : Shrill trumpets' sound, sharp swords, and lances strong, War, blood, and death, were matter of her song. The God of Love by chance had heard thereof, That I was prov'da rebel to his crown ; " Fit words for war," quoth he, with angry scoff, " A likely man to write of Mars his frown.