The Works of William Shakespeare: From the Text of the Rev. Alexander Dyce's Fourth Edition, with an Arrangement of His Glossary, Volume 11

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Mershon Company, 1885

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Page 41 - Be not afeard ; 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.
Page 36 - hest to say so! Fer. Admir'd Miranda! Indeed the top of admiration ; worth What's dearest to the world ! Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard ; and many a time The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear : for several virtues Have I lik'd several women ; never any With so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, And put it to the foil : but you, 0 you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best.
Page 50 - Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on ; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
Page 45 - When daffodils begin to peer, With heigh ! the doxy over the dale, Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year ; For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale. The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, With...
Page 55 - Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; In a cowslip's bell I lie : There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Page 15 - em. Cal. I must eat my dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak'st from me. When thou earnest first, Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me ; wouldst give me Water with berries in't ; and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night : and then I lov'd thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fertile.
Page 17 - Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the King my father's wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air; thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather.
Page 24 - Treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine Would I not have ; but nature should bring forth Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.
Page 52 - 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' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that ; move still, still so.
Page 51 - Dis's waggon! daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath...

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