Shakspeare's comedy of A Winter's tale, with notes, adapted for scholastic or private study by J. Hunter

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第63页 - O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried Of that wide gap ; since it is in my power To o'erthrow law, and in one self-born hour To plant and o'erwhelm custom...
第75页 - Yet nature is made better by no mean But nature makes that mean : so, over that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes.
第76页 - 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; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength — a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown-imperial ; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one ! O, these I lack, To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend, To strew him o'er and o'er.
第77页 - I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, 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...
第78页 - This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever Ran on the green-sward. Nothing she does or seems But smacks of something greater than herself, Too noble for this place.
第77页 - A wave o' th' sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that ; move still, still so, And own no other function : Each your doing, So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, That all your acts are queens.
第75页 - twere well, and only therefore Desire to breed by me. — Here's flowers for you: Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ; The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, And with him rises, weeping; these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age.
第52页 - Hermione is chaste, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, Leontes a jealous tyrant, his innocent babe truly begotten; and the king shall live without an heir, if that, which is lost, be not found.
第75页 - Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race : this is an art Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The art itself is nature. Per So it is. Pol. Then make your garden rich in gillyvors, And do not call them bastards. Per. I'll not put The dibble in earth to set one slip of them...

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