The Works of Shakespeare

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Macmillan and Company, limited, 1899

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Página 467 - O, it is monstrous, monstrous! Methought, the billows spoke, and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass. Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded; and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, And with him there lie mudded.
Página 216 - Fear no more the frown o' the great: Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Página 462 - The isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep, Will make me sleep again ; and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that, when I wak'd, I cried to dream again.
Página 482 - Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew ; by whose aid, Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm'd The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds, And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt ; the strong-based promontory Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck 'd up The pine and cedar : graves at my command Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em...
Página 482 - Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When he comes back ; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms...
Página 483 - The charm dissolves apace; And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason...
Página 427 - You taught me language ; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you For learning me your language ! Pros.
Página 347 - A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that ; move still, still so, and own No other function : Each your doing, So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, That all your acts are queens.
Página 487 - O, wonder ! How many goodly creatures are there here ! How beauteous mankind is ! O brave new world, That has such people in 't ! Pros. 'Tis new to thee.
Página 214 - With fairest flowers. Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave : thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azured hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...

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