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The Plays and Poems of William Shakspeare: With the Corrections and ...
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ancient Antony and Cleopatra beauty blood BOSWELL breast breath cheeks Collatine Cymbeline dead dear death dost doth Earle of Southampton edition of 1600 face fair false fear flower foul gentle grace grief Hamlet hand hast hath haue heart heaven honour King Henry King John King Richard King Richard III kiss lips live look Love's Labour's Lost lust Macbeth MALONE means modern editions musick never night o'er old copy original copy Othello pale Passionate Pilgrim poem poet poor praise quarto queen quoth Rape of Lucrece rhyme Richard II Romeo and Juliet Shakspeare Shakspeare's shalt shame sighs sight Sonnet sorrow soul stanza STEEVENS sweet Tarquin tears tender thee thine eye thing thou art thought thyself time's tongue Troilus and Cressida true Venus and Adonis verse weep wilt wind word youth
Page 238 - But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest ; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade. When in eternal lines to time thou growest: So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see. So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Page 350 - CXLVI. Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, Fool'd by those rebel powers that thee array, Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay ? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend ? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Eat up thy charge ? Is this thy body's end ? Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, And let that pine to aggravate thy store ; Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross ; Within be fed,...
Page 26 - Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide : Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on so proud a back.
Page 310 - Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease : Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me But hope of orphans and unfather'd fruit ; For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, And, thou away, the very birds are mute ; Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.
Page 338 - Coral is far more red than her lips' red: If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound...
Page 274 - Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive 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.
Page 240 - A man in hue, all hues in his controlling, Which steals men's eyes, and women's souls amazeth. And for a woman wert thou first created ; Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, And by addition me of thee defeated, By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure, Mine be thy love, and thy love's use their treasure.
Page 225 - Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies, Where all the treasure of thy lusty days, To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes. Were an all-eating shame and thriftless "praise. How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use, If thou couldst answer ' This fair child of mine Shall sum my count and make my old excuse...
Page 302 - Ah do not, when my heart hath 'scap'd this sorrow, Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe; Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, To linger out a purpos'd overthrow. If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, When other petty griefs have done their spite, But in the onset come; so shall I taste At first the very worst of fortune's might, And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, Compar'd with loss of thee will not seem so.