Sidor som bilder
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If it were done, when 't is done, then 't were well
It were done quickly if the assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch
With his surcease, success; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
We'd jump the life to come.

Besides, this Duncan
Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
The deep damnation of his taking-off.

Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 7.

SHAKESPEARE.

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I have almost forgot the taste of fear.
The time has been, my senses would have quailed

Put out the light, and then put out the light. To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,

Should I repent me; but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light relume. When I have plucked
thy rose

I cannot give it vital growth again,
It needs must wither.

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Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir,
As life were in 't.

rors:

I have supped full with hor

Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.

Macbeth, Act v. Sc. 4.

All mankind

SUICIDE.

Is one of these two cowards;
Either to wish to die

SHAKESPEARE.

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Our enemies have beat us to the hip:
It is more worthy to leap in ourselves
Than tarry till they push us.

Julius Cæsar, Act v. Sc. 5.

SHAKESPEARE.

He

That kills himself t' avoid misery, fears it,
And at the best shows but a bastard valor :
This life's a fort committed to my trust,
Which I must not yield up, till it be forced;
Nor will I he's not valiant that dares die,
But he that boldly bears calamity.

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Here rests his Head
hi Spitaph.
n the Lap of Earth
A Youth, to Fortune & to Same unknown:
his, humble Birth,

Juir Science fromn

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n'd not

And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Bounty, & his soul sincere;
Recompense Largely send:
Tear

Heav'h did

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to Misry all, he had, gave, to Mis

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gain" d from leavin Itwas all he wish'd) a Friend No farther seek his Meries to disclose Or draw his Frailties from their dread Mode. Thave they alike in trembling Ho

The Bosom of his Father, & his God.

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Harks ! To the belling bells
In echoes dues and slaw.

While on the breeze our bannur floats
Draped in the weeds of use.

wae.

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THE COMPLEYNTE OF CHAUCER TO
HIS PURSE.*

To you, my purse, and to noon other wight
Compleyn I, for ye be my lady dere!

I am so sorry now that ye been lyght,

For certes, but-yf ye make me hevy chere, Me were as leaf be layde upon my bere, For whiche unto your mercy thus I crye, Beeth hevy ageyne, or ellès mote I dye!

Now voucheth sauf this day, or it be nyghte,
That I of you the blissful soune may here,
Or see your colour lyke the sonnè bryghte,

That of yelownesse haddè never pere.
Ye be my lyfe! ye be myn hertys stere !†
Quene of comfort and good companye!
Beth hevy ageyne, or ellès mote I dye.

Now, purse, that ben to me my lyves lyght

And saveour, as doun in this worlde here, Oute of this toune helpe me thurgh your myght,

* "From this unique petition," says Mr. Gilman in his "Riverside" Chaucer, “there seems to have resulted an additional pension of forty marks a year, on the strength of which Chaucer took a lease. of a house in the garden of St. Mary's Chapel, Westminster, for fifty-three years, at an annual rent of two pounds thirteen shillings and fourpence, the lease to be void on the poet's death." So that the practical results of this poetical plaint show that Chaucer well described one of his own characteristics in his description of the MARCHANT, among his Canterbury Pilgrims, —

"This worthy man ful wel his wit bisette [used].' + guide.

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Syn that ye wole not ben my tresorere;

For I am shave as nye as is a frere. But I praye unto your curtesye Beth hevy ageyn, or ellès moote I dye ! .

L'ENVOYE DE CHAUCER.

O conquerour of Brutes Albyoun,*
Whiche that by lygne and free eleccioun

Been verray Kynge,+ this song to you I sende, And ye that mowen ‡ alle myn harme amende, Have mynde upon my supplicacioun !

GEOFFREY CHAUCER.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

FROM "AN ELEGY ON A FRIEND'S PASSION FOR HIS ASTROPHILL."

WITHIN these woods of Arcadie He chiefe delight and pleasure tooke, And on the mountaine Parthenie, Upon the chrystall liquid brooke, The Muses met him ev'ry day, That taught him sing, to write, and say.

When he descended downe to the mount,
His personage seemed most divine,
A thousand.graces one might count
Upon his lovely, cheerfull eine ;

To heare him speake and sweetly smile,
You were in Paradise the while.

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