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" A blank, my lord : She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek : she pined in thought ; And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. "
The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare: Life. New facts regarding the life ... - Page 280
by William Shakespeare - 1839
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The Spirit of the Plays of Shakspeare: Exhibited in a Series of ..., Volume 1

1827 - 366 pages
...daughter loved a man, As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship. ORS. And what 's her history ? Vio. A blank, my lord : She never told...monument Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ? ORS. But died thy sister of her love, my boy ? Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house,...
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The Medical Intelligencer: Containing Extracts from Foreign and ..., Volume 5

1828 - 646 pages
...in insanity. Yet the passion remains latent in the bosom of the sufferer, — " She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,...melancholy, She sat like Patience on a monument, Smiling at Grief. The passion, corroding invariably, like intense grief from any other cause, undermines the...
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The medical guide

Richard Reece - 1828 - 604 pages
...the mind ; such as is so beautifully described by Shakspeare, when he says, — " She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,...melancholy, She sat like Patience on a monument, Smiling at Grief." When long continued, it constitutes grief: when diversified by alternate agonising sensations...
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The Young Clergyman

1828 - 32 pages
...Viola." So saying, she read that beautiful passage from ' Twelfth Night.' ' , " She never told her love, But let concealment like a worm i' the bud,...melancholy, She sat like Patience on a monument, Smiling at grief." •As she turned over the leaves hastily, a piece of paper fell upon the floor. Edward stooped...
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The Dramatic Works of Shakespeare: With a Life, Volume 1

William Shakespeare - 1828 - 404 pages
...never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the hud, Feed on her damask cheek ; she pin'd in thought ; And, with a green and yellow melancholy,...this love, indeed ? We men may say more, swear more ; hut, indeed, Oar shows are more than will j for still we prove Much in our vows, hot little m our...
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Lectures on English Poetry: From the Reign of Edward the Third, to the Time ...

Henry Neele - 1830 - 582 pages
...exquisite paraphrase, in which the character is so beautifully summed up : — " She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,...melancholy, She sat, like Patience on a monument, Smiling at Grief." Of Shakspeare's Comic Female Characters, it will be sufficient to adduce two, Rosalind and...
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The Magazine of the beau monde; or, Monthly journal of fashion ..., Volume 8

1838 - 264 pages
...it might be, perbaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship. DUKE. And what's her history? VIOLA. A blank, my lord ! She never told her love, But let...thought, And, with a green and yellow melancholy, Shs sat like Patience on a monument. Smiling at Grief. Was not this love indeed ?" The sigh that burst...
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Tempest. Two gentlemen of Verona. Twelfth night. Measure for measure. Much ...

1833 - 282 pages
...daughter loved a man, As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship. ORs. And what 's her history ? Vio. A blank, my lord : She never told...monument Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ? OR«. But died thy sister of her love, my boy ? Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house,...
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Tempest. Two gentlemen of Verona. Twelfth night. Measure for measure. Much ...

1833 - 280 pages
...daughter loved a man, As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship. ORS. And what 's her history ? Vio. A blank, my lord : She never told...monument Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ? ORS. But died thy sister of her love, my boy ? Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house,...
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Literary recreations; or, Scenes from real life

John Young (M.A.) - 1833 - 328 pages
...God, were the repository of the secret of her sufferings, which were sacred. " She never told her woe, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed...melancholy, She sat, like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief." It was no unfrequcnt thing now for Olivia to be left alone, with all the weight of business...
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