The Authorship of Shakespeare: With an Appendix of Additional Matters, Including a Notice of the Recently Discovered Northumberland MSS., a Supplement of Further Proofs that Francis Bacon was the Real Author, and a Full Index, Band 1

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1886 - 828 Seiten
 

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Seite 262 - She shall be lov'd and fear'd : her own shall bless her : Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with her : In her days, every man shall eat in safety Under his own vine, what he plants ; and sing The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours : God shall be truly known ; and those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.
Seite 143 - Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity : Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind ; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind...
Seite 139 - Ah me ! for aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth : But either it was different in blood, — Her.
Seite 220 - This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise ; This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war ; This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall, Or as a moat defensive to a house, S Against the envy of less happier lands ; This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England...
Seite 287 - Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. All. Double, double toil and trouble; 20 Fire burn and cauldron bubble. Third Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witches...
Seite 269 - A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. Mark but my fall and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: By that sin fell the angels; how can man then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by it?
Seite 119 - 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 loosed 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 145 - Sit, Jessica: look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls, But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. [Enter MUSICIANS] Come, ho! and wake Diana with a dream: With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, And draw her home with music.
Seite 178 - Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, Nor think the bitterness of absence sour When you have bid your servant once adieu ; Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought Save, where you are how happy you make those.
Seite 307 - Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun And descant on mine own deformity; And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover.

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