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Act iv addressing alluded appears beautiful better blood blossoms body Book branches briar called CHAPTER cockle colour common considered cultivated darnel dead death described doth Dream early earth eaten edition elder England English eyes fair fields flowers folio following lines fruit gardens garland garlick Gerarde give given grace green ground grows growth hang hath head heart Henry herb Herbal John kind King known Lady leaves leek light lily live look marigold nature nettles night noticed pale passage plant plantain play poet poison printed Queen reason referred roots rose rosemary says Scene seede Shakspere Shakspere's shows sleep smell song speaking Spring strew sweet tells thee things Thomas Thomas Elyot thou translation tree unto violet virtues weed wild willow wind woods writers
Seite 8 - It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul — Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars ! — It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood; Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster.
Seite 4 - tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners : so that if we will plant nettles, or sow lettuce ; set hyssop, and weed up thyme ; supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract it with many ; either to have it steril with idleness, or manured with industry, — why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills.
Seite 8 - The chariest maid is prodigal enough, If she unmask her beauty to the moon : Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes : The canker galls the infants of the spring, Too oft before their buttons be disclosed ; And in the morn and liquid dew of youth Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Seite 165 - I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin, And let him find it : trifles, light as air, Are to the jealous confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ.
Seite 6 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ; The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost ; And — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Seite 57 - The current, that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage ; But, when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ; And so by many winding nooks he strays With willing sport to the wild ocean.
Seite 49 - When summer's breath their masked buds discloses : But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so ; Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made : And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, When that shall fade, my verse distils your truth.
Seite 143 - Come on, sir; here's the place: — stand still. — How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon' tall anchoring bark, Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy Almost too small for sight: The murmuring surge.
Seite xii - Soul of the age! The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live And we have wits to read and praise to give.
Seite 5 - O thou goddess, Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st In these two princely boys ! They are as gentle As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head : and yet as rough, Their royal blood enchafed, as the rudest wind, That by the. top doth take the mountain pine And make him stoop to the vale.