Thus with the year

Seasons return, but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
But cloud instead, and ever-during dark
Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair
Presented with a universal blank

Of Nature's works to me expunged and rased,
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
MILTON-Paradise Lost. Bk. III.

m.

L. 775.

8. Hamlet. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 129. That it should come to this! But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two!

t.

Hamlet. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 137.

They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I must fight the course. u. Macbeth. Act V. Sc. 7. L. 1. Thou tyrant! Do not repent these things, for they are heavier

Than all thy woes can stir: therefore, betake thee

To nothing but despair.

บ. Winter's Tale. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 208.