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الصفحة 271 - Here she was wont to go ! and here ! and here ! Just where those daisies, pinks, and violets grow . The world may find the spring by following her, For other print her airy steps ne'er left. Her treading would not bend a blade of grass, Or shake the downy blow-ball from his stalk ! But like the soft west wind she shot along, And where she went, the flowers took thickest root, As she had sowed them with her odorous foot.
الصفحة 301 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
الصفحة 29 - Fill'd with such pictures as Tiberius took From Elephantis, and dull Aretine But coldly imitated. Then, my glasses Cut in more subtle angles, to disperse And multiply the figures, as I walk Naked between my succubae. My mists I'll have of perfume, vapour'd 'bout the room, To lose ourselves in; and my baths, like pits To fall into; from whence we will come forth, And roll us dry in gossamer and roses.
الصفحة 303 - To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such As neither man nor Muse can praise too much: ' Tis true, and all men's suffrage.
الصفحة 150 - Tis the beggar's virtue ; If thou hast wisdom, hear me, Celia. Thy baths shall be the juice of Julyflowers, Spirit of roses, and of violets, The milk of 'unicorns, and panthers' breath Gather'd in bags, and mix'd with Cretan wines.
الصفحة 304 - The applause! delight! the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise ; I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room : Thou art a monument, without a tomb, And art alive still, while thy book doth live, And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
الصفحة 150 - Whilst we, in changed shapes, act Ovid's tales, Thou like Europa now, and I like Jove, Then I like Mars, and thou like Erycine; So of the rest, till we have quite run through, And wearied all the fables of the gods.
الصفحة 8 - What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been So nimble and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life!
الصفحة 304 - For, if I thought my judgment were of years, I should commit thee surely with thy peers ; And tell how far thou didst our Lyly outshine, Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line ; And, though thou had'st small Latin and less Greek...
الصفحة 310 - ELIZABETH'S CHAPEL*. Weep with me, all you that read This little story ; And know, for whom a tear you shed Death's self is sorry. 'Twas a child that so did thrive In grace and feature, As Heaven and Nature seemed to strive Which owned the creature.

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