Euripides

Capa
J. B. Lippincott, 1872 - 204 páginas

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Página 33 - And let my liver rather heat with wine Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
Página 144 - 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 100 - My father held his hand upon his face ; I, blinded with my tears, " Still strove to speak : my voice was thick with sighs As in a dream. Dimly I could descry The stern black-bearded kings with wolfish eyes, Waiting to see me die. " The high masts flicker'd as they lay afloat ; The crowds, the temples, waver'd, and the shore ; The bright death quiver'd at the victim's throat ; Touch'd ; and I knew no more.
Página 89 - Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream : The genius, and the mortal instruments, Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.
Página 85 - tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life, ^ That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death.
Página 100 - I was cut off from hope in that sad place, Which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears : My father held his hand upon his face ; I, blinded with my tears, " Still strove to speak : my voice was thick with sighs As in a dream. Dimly I could descry The stern black -bearded kings with wolfish eyes, Waiting to see me die.
Página 33 - At my nativity my ascendant was the watery sign of Scorpius; I was born in the planetary hour of Saturn, and I think I have a piece of that leaden planet in me.
Página 109 - Somtyme with the lord of Palatye, Ageyn another hethen in Turkye : And evermore he hadde a sovereyn prys. And though that he were worthy, he was wys, And of his port as meke as is a mayde. He never yet no vileinye ne sayde In al his lyf, un-to no maner wight. He was a verray parfit gentil knight.
Página 163 - By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon; Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks...

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