Shakespeare's Influence on Sir Walter Scott

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Cornhill, 1925 - 508 páginas

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Página 122 - O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword; The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!
Página 198 - My tables, — meet it is I set it down, That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark. — [Writing. So, uncle, there you are. — Now to my word; It is "Adieu, adieu! remember me,
Página 127 - He reads much ; He is a great observer and he looks Quite through the deeds of men ; he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony ; he hears no music ; Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit That could be moved to smile at any thing.
Página 318 - Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all arm'd : a certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned by the west, And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts : But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon, And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
Página 193 - 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.
Página 78 - Art. He Monarch-like gave those his subjects law, And is that Nature which they paint and draw.
Página 464 - Some heavenly music, (which even now I do,) To work mine end upon their senses, that This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And, deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book.
Página 142 - Nought's had, all's spent, Where our desire is got without content : 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
Página 222 - Merciful heaven! What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.
Página 78 - But Shakespeare's magic could not copied be ; Within that circle none durst walk but he. I must confess 'twas bold, nor would you now That liberty to vulgar wits allow, Which works by magic supernatural things : But Shakespeare's power is sacred as a king's.

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