The Works of William Shakespeare, Volume 6

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E. Moxon, 1857

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Page 141 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water ; the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them, the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggar'd all description ; she did lie In her pavilion...
Page 52 - Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls : Who steals my purse steals trash ; 'tis something, nothing ; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed.
Page 314 - Fear no more the frown o' the great: Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Page 596 - Shall I compare thee to a summer's day ? Thou art- more lovely and more temperate : Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date...
Page 91 - 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. Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
Page 77 - Yet could I bear that too ; well, very well : But there, where I have garner'd up my heart ;* Where either I must live, or bear no life ; The fountain from the which my current runs, Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence ! Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads To knot and gender in 1 — turn thy complexion there ! Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin ; Ay, there, look grim as hell P Des.
Page 314 - FEAR no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o...
Page 619 - Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower? O! how shall summer's honey breath hold out, Against the wrackful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong but Time decays? O fearful meditation! where, alack, Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? Or...
Page 101 - No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice : then must you speak Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well ; Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought, Perplex'd in the extreme ; of one whose hand, Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away Richer than all his tribe...
Page 31 - May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas Olympus-high and duck again as low As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die, 'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear, My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate.

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