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Página 56 - I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o...
Página 132 - I have of late— but wherefore I know not— lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
Página 278 - The king doth wake to-night, and takes his rouse, Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels ; And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge.
Página 105 - John. It is the curse of kings, to be attended By slaves, that take their humours for a warrant To break within the bloody house of life ; And, on the winking of authority, To understand a law ; to know the meaning Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns More upon humour, than advis'd respect.
Página 152 - . when the last account 'twixt heaven and earth Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal Witness against us to damnation. How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds Makes deeds ill done...
Página 51 - Upon the middle of the night, Waking she heard the night-fowl crow: The cock sung out an hour ere light: From the dark fen the oxen's low Came to her: without hope of change, In sleep she seem'd to walk forlorn, Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn About the lonely moated grange. She only said, The day is dreary, He cometh not,' she said; She said, 'I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!
Página 248 - Subtle as Sphinx ; as sweet, and musical, As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair ; And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.
Página 276 - s his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design, Moves like a ghost.
Página 68 - Old faces glimmer'd thro' the doors, Old footsteps trod the upper floors, Old voices called her from without. She only said, "My life is dreary, He cometh not...