Miscellaneous Essays and Addresses

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Macmillan, 1904 - 374 Seiten
 

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Seite 105 - Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods ! When went there by an age, since the great flood, But it was...
Seite 132 - To plague the inventor: This even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own lips. He's here in double trust: First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed ; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself.
Seite 109 - O mighty Caesar ! dost thou lie so low ? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, Shrunk to this little measure ? — Fare thee well.
Seite 132 - Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off : And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind.
Seite 71 - He is not risen, no — He lies and moulders low ; Christ is not risen ! What if the women, ere the dawn was grey, Saw one or more great angels, as they say (Angels, or Him Himself) ? Yet neither there, nor then, Nor afterwards, nor elsewhere, nor at all, Hath He appeared to Peter or the Ten ; Nor, save in thunderous terror, to blind Saul ; Save in an after Gospel and late Creed, He is not risen, indeed,- — Christ is not risen ! Or, what if e'en, as runs a tale, the Ten Saw, heard, and touched,...
Seite 105 - Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, Like a Colossus ; and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates ; The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Seite 71 - Ye poor deluded youths, go home, Mend the old nets ye left to roam, Tie the split oar, patch the torn sail : It was indeed an ' idle tale
Seite 121 - And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Seite 55 - Culture is always assigning to systemmakers and systems a smaller share in the bent of human destiny than their friends like.
Seite 96 - Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii. Look, in this place ran Cassius...

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