A Glance Toward Shakespeare

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Atlantic Monthly Press, 1922 - 115 páginas

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Página 100 - The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, And, as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That, if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; •• Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear?
Página 103 - What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend? Since every one hath, every one, one shade, And you, but one, can every shadow lend. Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit Is poorly imitated after you ; On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, And you in Grecian tires are painted new...
Página 64 - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these?
Página 72 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart?
Página 72 - That palter with us in a double sense, That keep the word of promise to our ear, And break it to our hope.
Página 63 - I may scape, I will preserve myself: and am bethought To take the basest and most poorest shape, That ever penury, in contempt of man, Brought near to beast...
Página 75 - Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly. Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing Can touch him further.
Página 73 - This guest of summer, The temple-haunting ° martlet, does approve By his loved mansionry ° that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here : no jutty,° frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendant bed and procreant cradle : Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed The air is delicate.
Página 99 - And see the brave day sunk in hideous night ; When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white ; When lofty trees I see barren of leaves Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green all girded up in sheaves Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard, Then of thy beauty do I question make...
Página 14 - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

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