Dramatic scenes and characters

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William James Linton, Richard Henry Stoddard
K. Paul, Trench & Company, 1884 - English poetry
 

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Page 110 - With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries ; The honey bags steal from the humble-bees, And, for night-tapers, crop their waxen thighs, And light them at the fiery glowworm's eyes...
Page 77 - Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder ? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe, When now I think you can behold such sights, And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, When mine is blanch'd with fear.
Page 98 - Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false: at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs.
Page xix - What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! Heard words that have been So nimble and so full of subtle flame As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life.
Page 99 - I'll frown , and be perverse , and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; And therefore thou mayst think my haviour light: But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
Page 77 - Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! let the earth hide thee ! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with.
Page 82 - Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls : Who steals my purse steals trash ; 'tis something, nothing ; "Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.
Page 84 - Ay, there's the point :' — as — to be bold with you — Not to affect many proposed matches Of her own clime, complexion, and degree, Whereto we see in all things nature tends, — Foh ! one may smell in such a will most rank, Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural...
Page 96 - But, soft ! what light through yonder window breaks ? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon...
Page 97 - O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air.

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