Shakespeariana, Volume 9

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Appleton Morgan, Charlotte Endymion Porter
Leonard Scott Publishing Company, 1892
 

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Page 220 - I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows ; Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine...
Page 105 - ... supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you; and being an absolute Johannes factotum, is in his own conceit the only Shake-scene in a country.
Page 220 - Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander every where, Swifter than the moon's sphere; And I serve the Fairy Queen, To dew her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be; In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours. I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Page 58 - That low man seeks a little thing to do, Sees it and does it : This high man, with a great thing to pursue, Dies ere he knows it.
Page 220 - Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears ; Bid Amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.
Page 136 - And then you have some again that keeps one suit of jests, as a man is known by one suit of apparel; and gentlemen quote his jests down in their tables before they come to the play, as thus: 'Cannot you stay till I eat my porridge?
Page 220 - Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, That on the green turf suck the honied showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Page 229 - My father's spirit in arms ! all is not well ; I doubt some foul play: 'would, the night were come! Till then sit still, my soul : Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
Page 54 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Page 145 - From Paul's I went, to Eton sent, To learn straightways the Latin phrase, Where fifty-three stripes given to me At once I had. For fault but small, or none at all, It came to pass thus beat I was, See, Udall, see, the mercy of thee To me, poor lad ! " * "EW

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