Cymbeline

Framsida
University Society, 1901 - 198 sidor

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Sida 4 - O, wonder ! How many goodly creatures are there here ! How beauteous mankind is ! O, brave new world, That has such people in't ! Pro.
Sida 79 - 11 example you with thievery The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea ; the moon 's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun...
Sida 96 - ... 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.
Sida 173 - To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove; But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love. No...
Sida 173 - No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove, But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love. No wither'd witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew ; The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew...
Sida 194 - Not by our feeling but by others' seeing; For why should others' false adulterate eyes Give salutation to my sportive blood? Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, Which in their wills count bad what I think good ? No, I am that I am, and they that level At my abuses reckon up their own: I may be straight, though they themselves be bevel ; By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown ; Unless this general evil they maintain, All men are bad, and in their badness reign.
Sida 42 - 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.
Sida 95 - 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...
Sida 65 - Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads: This yellow slave Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs'd; Make the hoar leprosy ador'd; place thieves, And give them title, knee, and approbation, With senators on the bench...
Sida 173 - Call for the robin-red-breast and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men. Call unto his funeral dole The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm And (when gay tombs are robbed) sustain no harm, But keep the wolf far thence that's foe to men, For with his nails he'll dig them up again.

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