The Poetical Works of William Shakespeare and Ben Jonson, 1-2±ÇHoughton, Osgood, 1879 - 686ÆäÀÌÁö |
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xxxiv ÆäÀÌÁö
... sors , awaking , by his magic touch , their dead and cold creations to breathing and passionate beauty . Among the numerous dramas , manuscript as well as printed , of which time has spared no copies xxxiv MEMOIR OF SHAKESPEARE .
... sors , awaking , by his magic touch , their dead and cold creations to breathing and passionate beauty . Among the numerous dramas , manuscript as well as printed , of which time has spared no copies xxxiv MEMOIR OF SHAKESPEARE .
xxxvii ÆäÀÌÁö
... dead , that I did not , I am as sory , as if the originall fault had beene my fault , be- cause my selfe haue seene his demeanour no lesse ciuill than he exelent in the qualitie * he pro- fesses : Besides , diuers of worship haue ...
... dead , that I did not , I am as sory , as if the originall fault had beene my fault , be- cause my selfe haue seene his demeanour no lesse ciuill than he exelent in the qualitie * he pro- fesses : Besides , diuers of worship haue ...
lvi ÆäÀÌÁö
... dead , is no - thing . " Ashmole MSS . 38 . The letter from Pecle to Marlowe , concerning Shakespeare and Jonson , which has been given in several publications , is undoubtedly a forgery : see my Life of Peele , p . iii . prefixed to ...
... dead , is no - thing . " Ashmole MSS . 38 . The letter from Pecle to Marlowe , concerning Shakespeare and Jonson , which has been given in several publications , is undoubtedly a forgery : see my Life of Peele , p . iii . prefixed to ...
lx ÆäÀÌÁö
... dead , he desired it might be done immediately ; upon which Shakespeare gave him these four verses : Ten in the hundred lies here engrav'd ; ' Tis a hundred to ten his soul is not sav'd : If any man ask , Who lies in this tomb ? Ho ! ho ...
... dead , he desired it might be done immediately ; upon which Shakespeare gave him these four verses : Ten in the hundred lies here engrav'd ; ' Tis a hundred to ten his soul is not sav'd : If any man ask , Who lies in this tomb ? Ho ! ho ...
lxiii ÆäÀÌÁö
... dead , he doth but sleepe . This stony register is for his bones , His fame is more perpetual than these stones : And his own goodness , with himself being gone , Shall live , when earthly monument is none . " Written upon the west end ...
... dead , he doth but sleepe . This stony register is for his bones , His fame is more perpetual than these stones : And his own goodness , with himself being gone , Shall live , when earthly monument is none . " Written upon the west end ...
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actors Adonis bear beauty beauty's behold Ben Jonson blood breast breath cheeks Collatine Cynthia's Revels daughter dead dear death deeds delight doth dramas Duncote epigram face fair false fame fear fire flower foul Francis Collins gentle give grace grief Hamnet hand hath hear heart heaven honour John Shakespeare Jonson king kiss lips live looks Lord love's Lucrece lust MALONE masques may'st mind muse never night play poems poet poison'd poor praise proud Queen quoth Richard Barnefield Richard Burbage Sejanus Shak Shake Shakespeare shalt shame sighs sing Sonnets sorrow soul stage Stratford swear sweet Tarquin tears tell theatre thee thing Thomas Thomas Lucy thou art thou dost thou hast thought thyself time's tongue true truth unto Venus and Adonis verses weep Welcombe wife William William Shakespeare words Yorkshire Tragedy youth
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xxxi ÆäÀÌÁö - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
153 ÆäÀÌÁö - Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date...
269 ÆäÀÌÁö - Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; In a cowslip's bell I lie : There I couch*. When owls do cry, '} \ On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
184 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.
277 ÆäÀÌÁö - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who...
180 ÆäÀÌÁö - When I have seen the hungry ocean gain Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, And the firm soil win of the watery 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 : — This thought is as a death, which cannot choose But weep to have that which it fears to lose.
288 ÆäÀÌÁö - T^EAR no more the heat o' the sun -*- Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages : Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 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. Fear no more the...
xxxi ÆäÀÌÁö - A lily of a day Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall and die that night; It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures life may perfect be.
217 ÆäÀÌÁö - Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently swayst The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, Do I envy those jacks, that nimble leap To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand! To be so tickled, they would change their state And situation with those dancing chips, O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, Making dead wood more bless'd than living lips. Since saucy...
41 ÆäÀÌÁö - Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest, From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast The sun ariseth in his majesty ; Who doth the world so gloriously behold, That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold.