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Seite 119 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me. You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Seite 143 - I have of late — but wherefore I know not — lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory ; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, — why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
Seite 20 - Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all arm'd: a certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned by the west, And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts : But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon, And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
Seite 85 - 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 40 - Thus thou must do, if thou have it"; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear; And chastise with the valour of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal.
Seite 77 - Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approved good masters, — That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true ; true, I have married her ; The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace ; For since these arms of mine had seven years...
Seite 48 - Merciful heaven ! What, man ! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows ; Give sorrow words : the grief that does not speak Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.
Seite 46 - It will have blood, they say ; blood will have blood : Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak ; Augurs, and understood relations, have By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth The secret'st man of blood.
Seite 162 - Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, In the Rialto, you have rated me About my moneys and my usances : Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe...
Seite 37 - The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires: The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be, Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.