The Works of Shakespeare: Cymbeline

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Page 145 - 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 138 - 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 rud'st wind, That by the top doth take the mountain pine, And make him stoop to the vale.
Page 91 - To work my mind, when body's work's expired. For then my thoughts, from far where I abide, Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see; Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like...
Page 57 - Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise.
Page 97 - tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword ; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile ; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters.
Page 142 - With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave. Thou shalt not lack The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azured harebell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweetened not thy breath.

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