Temple Bar, Volume 39

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George Augustus Sala, Edmund Yates
Ward and Lock, 1873 - English periodicals
 

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Page 468 - For contemplation he and valour formed, For softness she and sweet attractive grace ; He for God only, she for God in him...
Page 204 - Excellent wretch ! Perdition catch my soul, But I do love thee ! and when I love thee not Chaos is come again.
Page 213 - 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...
Page 245 - The times have been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end ; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools.
Page 204 - The current that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage ; But when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ; And so by many winding nooks he strays, With willing sport, to the wild ocean.
Page 205 - And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire. The chariest maid is prodigal enough, If she unmask her beauty to the moon : Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes : The canker galls the infants of the spring, Too oft before their buttons be disclosed ; And in the morn and liquid dew of youth Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Page 213 - Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba That he should weep for her? What would he do Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have? He would drown the stage with tears, And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, Make mad the guilty and appal the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed The very faculties of eyes and ears.
Page 54 - O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Page 214 - My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.
Page 212 - Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood ; Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it...

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