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100. oldal - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
464. oldal - Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad.' ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in, stones, and good in every thing.
464. oldal - The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say,— This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.
289. oldal - For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood ; If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze By the sweet power of music...
85. oldal - This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here : no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendant bed and procreant cradle : Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed The air is delicate.
141. oldal - I'll see, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove; And, on the proof, there is no more but this, — Away at once with love, or jealousy.
286. oldal - Tis mightieft in the mightieft; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown...
62. oldal - Suppose we lampoon'd all the pretty women in town and left her out ; or, what if we made a ball, and forgot to invite her, with one or two of the ugliest.
467. oldal - If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church ; If ever sat at any good man's feast ; If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear, And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied ; Let gentleness my strong enforcement be : In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword.