The Works of Mr. William Shakespear;: In Six Volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts, 6. kötet

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1655. oldal - O'erflows the measure : those his goodly eyes, That o'er the files and musters of the war Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn, The office and devotion of their view Upon a tawny front : his captain's heart, Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper; And is become the bellows, and the fan, To cool a gipsy's lust.
1738. oldal - His legs bestrid the ocean: his rear'd arm Crested the world: his voice was propertied As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder.
1667. oldal - Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, To rot itself with motion.
1678. oldal - O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see The fancy outwork nature: on each side her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool. And what they undid, did. AGR. O, rare for Antony! ENO. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, So many mermaids, tended her i...
1681. oldal - I'll none now: Give me mine angle; we'll to the river: there, My music playing far off, I will betray Tawny-finn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce Their slimy jaws, and as I draw them up, I'll think them every one an Antony, And say 'Ah, ha! you're caught.
1741. oldal - He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not Be noble to myself; but hark thee, Charmian. [Whispers CHARMIAN. Iras. Finish, good lady ; the bright day is done, And we are for the dark.
1710. oldal - I see, men's judgments are A parcel of their fortunes ; and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them, To suffer all alike.
1811. oldal - 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 azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...
1732. oldal - O, wither'd is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fall'n : young boys and girls Are level now with men ; the odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon.
1791. oldal - tis slander; Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile ; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states. Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters.

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