Wit, Humor, and Shakespeare: Twelve Essays

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Roberts Brothers, 1876 - 428页
 

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第261页 - O, Proserpina, For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall From Dis's wagon ! 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...
第91页 - Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done...
第333页 - Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
第331页 - It were all one That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it ; he is so above me ! In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
第114页 - I might say element; but the word is overworn. [Exit. Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The Quality of persons, and the time; And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye.
第313页 - Tell me, where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head ? How begot, how nourished ? Reply, reply. It is engender'd in the eyes, With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell ; I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell.
第115页 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine ; And after one hour more "t will be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale.
第54页 - More, more, I prithee, more. Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. Jaq. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs.
第393页 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd: Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
第344页 - I shall the effect of this good lesson keep, As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven, Whilst, like a puff d and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own rede.

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