The Works of Shakespeare: the Text Carefully Restored According to the First Editions: Life of Shakespeare. Historical sketch of the English drama before Shakespeare. Poems and Sonnets
Estes and Lauriat, 1883
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第184页 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments : love is not love, Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove : O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
第155页 - gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow; And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
第152页 - But you like none, none you, for constant heart. LIV O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly When summer's breath their masked buds discloses; But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, Die to themselves....
第152页 - Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme ; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory.
第178页 - Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers' pride ; Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd In process of the seasons have I seen ; Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd, Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green. Ah ! yet...
第158页 - O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out Against the wreckful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays ? O fearful meditation ! where, alack, Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid ? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back ? Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid ? O, none, unless this miracle have might, That in black ink my love may still shine bright.
第139页 - 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131页 - If it were fill'd with your most high deserts ? Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb Which hides your life and shows not half your parts. If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say 'This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.
第cccxi页 - I'll leap up to my God! Who pulls me down? See, see where Christ's blood streams in the firmament! One drop would save my soul, half a drop, ah, my Christ!
第139页 - 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.