Studies of Shakspere

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G. Routledge, 1868 - 560ÆäÀÌÁö

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478 ÆäÀÌÁö - Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
235 ÆäÀÌÁö - Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy.
490 ÆäÀÌÁö - Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room, Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom. So till the judgment that yourself arise, You live in this, and dwell in lovers
494 ÆäÀÌÁö - When I have seen the hungry ocean gain Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, And the firm soil win of the wat'ry main, Increasing store with loss and loss with store; When I have seen such interchange of state, Or state itself confounded to decay, Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate, That Time will come and take my love away.
497 ÆäÀÌÁö - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...
161 ÆäÀÌÁö - Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope ; but still bear up and steer Right onward.
496 ÆäÀÌÁö - Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell : Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it ; for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot If thinking on me then should make you woe.
103 ÆäÀÌÁö - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...
106 ÆäÀÌÁö - gainst my fury • Do I take part : the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance : they being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend Not a frown further : Go, release them, Ariel ; My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, • And they shall be themselves.
470 ÆäÀÌÁö - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's •waste...

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