The Works of William Shakespeare, Volume 18

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J. D. Morris, 1901

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Page 4 - O ! wonder ! How many goodly creatures are there here ! How beauteous mankind is ! O brave new world, That has such people in't ! Pro. Tis new to thee.
Page 187 - Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing Spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove: But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love. No withered witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew. The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew! The red-breast oft at evening hours Shall kindly lend his little aid: With hoary moss, and gathered flowers, To deck the ground where...
Page 93 - The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea : the moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun : The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears : the earth's a thief, That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen From general excrement: each thing's a thief: The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power Have uncheck'd theft.
Page 187 - To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove; But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love. No...
Page 33 - To encounter me with orisons, for then I am in heaven for him ; or ere I could Give him that parting kiss, which I had set Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north, Shakes all our buds from growing. Enter a Lady. Lady. The queen, madam, Desires your highness
Page 138 - That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sun-set fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
Page 109 - Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak. The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Page 179 - 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.
Page 79 - Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads: This yellow slave Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs'd; Make the hoar leprosy ador'd; place thieves, And give them title, knee, and approbation, With senators on the bench...
Page 56 - Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise.

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