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
Houghton, Mifflin, 1886 - 828 Seiten
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Act III ancient appear Bacon become believe Boston called cause certainly character comes considered continues copies course Court critics death dedicated doubt Earl Essay Essex evidence expression eyes fact Folio fortune Francis Bacon give Gray's hand hath head Henry Holinshed honour House ideas imagination instance kind King Knight known learning least less Letter light lines living London look Lord Majesty manner Masque matter means mind nature never particular pass person philosophy play poet present Prince printed probable published Queen reason Richard says secret Shakes sonnets speak speech spirit stage story studies style taken theatre things thou thought tion true virtue whole William Shakespeare writings written
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 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.