The Works of Mr. William Shakespear

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第1620页 - Was ever woman in this humour woo'd ? Was ever woman in this humour won ? I'll have her, but I will not keep her long. What ! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate ; With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I no friends to back my suit withal, But the plain devil, and dissembling looks, And yet to win her, — all the world to nothing ! Ha!
第1774页 - This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth ; my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
第1776页 - Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee; Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of...
第1859页 - That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer : welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. O ! let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was ; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, That all with one consent praise new-born gawds, Though they are made and moulded...
第1567页 - So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; So many years...
第1777页 - Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not ; Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
第1839页 - Twixt right and wrong ; for pleasure and revenge Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice Of any true decision.
第1775页 - O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
第1782页 - O, father abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; Give him a little earth for charity...
第1749页 - tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.

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