The Works of William Shakespeare: The Text Formed from an Entirely New Collation of the Old Editions : with the Various Readings, Notes, a Life of the Poet, and a History of the Early English Stage, 第 8 卷
Whittaker & Company, 1843
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Antony arms Attendants bear beauty better blood breath bring Cæs Cæsar Cleo Cleopatra comes daughter dead dear death desire doth edition editors Enter error Exeunt Exit eyes face fair false father fear fire folio follow fortune give gods gone grace hand hast hath head hear heart heaven hold honour hour I'll Italy keep king lady leave light lips live look lord madam Malone master mean mind misprint mistress nature never night noble old copies once Pericles play poor Post praise pray present prince printed quarto queen SCENE seems sense Shakespeare shame Sold Sonnets sorrow speak stand strange sweet tears tell thee thine thing thou art thought tongue true weep
第 484 頁 - And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight : Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.
第 483 頁 - When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least ; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising...
第 484 頁 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
第 478 頁 - Shall I compare thee to a summer's day ? Thou art more lovely and more temperate : Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
第 497 頁 - Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end, Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
第 31 頁 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water; the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them, the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
第 502 頁 - Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell: Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it; for I love you so, That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, If thinking on me then should make you woe. O ! if, I say, you look upon this verse When I perhaps compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poor name rehearse, But let your love even with my life decay ; Lest the wise world should look into your moan, And mock you with me after...
第 502 頁 - That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed, whereon it must expire, Consumed with that...
第 485 頁 - I'll read, his for his love." XXXIII Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace.
第 509 頁 - 11 vow debate, For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate. XC Then hate me when thou wilt ; if ever, now ; Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, And do not drop in for an after-loss : Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow, Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe ; Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, To linger out a purposed overthrow.