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Page 198 - We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow...
Page 211 - ... in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwigpated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumbshows and noise : I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant ; it out-herods Herod : pray you, avoid it.
Page 212 - Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause ; and be silent that you may hear : believe me for mine honour; and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his.
Page 176 - All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when night is bare, From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed.
Page 132 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty ! Thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair: Thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Page 176 - From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not : Like a highborn maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower • Like a glow-worm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden Its aerial hue Among the flowers and grass, which...
Page 168 - BREATHES there the man with soul so dead Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well...
Page 213 - Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approved good masters, — That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true ; true, I have married her ; The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace ; For since these arms of mine had seven years...
Page 140 - What! do I fear myself? there's none else by Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No. Yes; I am: Then fly: what! from myself? Great reason why; Lest I revenge. What! myself upon myself? Alack! I love myself. Wherefore? for any good That I myself have done unto myself? O! no: alas! I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself.
Page 204 - I would not trust my heart ; — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might. — But no : — what here we call our life is such, So little to be loved, and thou so much, That I should ill requite thee to constrain Thy unbound spirit into bonds again.