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Seite 110 - Then we are to blame if we accept it not for a rock. Upon the back of that comes out a hideous monster with fire and smoke, and then the miserable beholders are bound to take it for a cave, while in the meantime two armies fly in, represented with four swords and bucklers, and then what hard heart will not receive it for a pitched field ? Now of time they are much more liberal.
Seite 43 - Love my memory, cherish my friends; their faith to me may assure you they are honest. But above all, govern your will and affections by the will and word of your Creator; in me beholding the end of this world with all her vanities.
Seite 246 - LEAVE me, O love ! which reachest but to dust ; And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things : Grow rich in that which never taketh rust ; Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.
Seite 246 - ... to higher things! Grow rich in that which never taketh rust : Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings. Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be; Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light That doth both shine and give us sight to see.
Seite 140 - WITH how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies! How silently, and with how wan a face! What, may it be that even in heavenly place That busy archer his sharp arrows tries? Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case. I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace, To me that feel the like, thy state descries.
Seite 140 - Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit? Are beauties there as proud as here they be? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess ? Do they call " virtue " there — ungratefulness ? XXXIX COME, Sleep ; O Sleep ! the certain knot of peace. The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, Th...
Seite 123 - That she, dear she ! might take some pleasure of my pain ; Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain : I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain : Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sun-burn'd brain.
Seite 66 - Poesy, therefore, is an art of imitation, for so Aristotle termeth it in his word Mimesis, that is to say, a representing, counterfeiting, or figuring forth: to speak metaphorically, a speaking picture : with this end, to teach and delight; of this have been three several kinds.
Seite 109 - Gorboduc, how much more in all the rest, where you shall have Asia of the one side, and Afric of the other, and so many other under-kingdoms, that the player, when he cometh in, must ever begin with telling where he is, or else the tale will not be conceived?