The Universal Anthology: A Collection of the Best Literature, Ancient, Medieval and Modern, with Biographical and Explanatory Notes, Volume 12

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Richard Garnett, Léon Vallée, Alois Brandl
Clarke Company, limited, 1899 - Anthologies

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Page 406 - The fear of every man that heard him was, lest he should make an end.
Page 386 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress
Page 289 - With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies! How silently, and with how wan a face! What, may it be that even in heavenly place That busy archer his sharp arrows tries? Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case, I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace, To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Page 270 - And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears. There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land...
Page 350 - Impose some end to my incessant pain; Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years, A hundred thousand, and at last be saved! O, no end is limited to damned souls! Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul ? Or why is this immortal that thou hast ? Ah, Pythagoras' metempsychosis, were that true, This soul should fly from me, and I be changed Unto some brutish beast!
Page 350 - That, when you vomit forth into the air, My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths, So that my soul may but ascend to heaven ! [The clock strikes the half-hour.] Ah, half the hour is past!
Page 396 - Her voice was ever soft, Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.
Page 267 - Go, soul, the body's guest, Upon a thankless errand ! Fear not to touch the best, The truth shall be thy warrant Go, since I needs must die, And give the world the lie.
Page 268 - Tell zeal it lacks devotion, Tell love it is but lust, Tell time it is but motion. Tell flesh it is but dust; And wish them not reply, For thou must give the lie. Tell age it daily wasteth, Tell honour how it alters, Tell beauty how she blasteth, Tell favour how it falters.
Page 23 - Bold Saxon ! to his promise just, Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, This head of a rebellious clan, Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward, Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. Now, man to man, and steel to steel, A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. See, here, all vantageless I stand, Arm'd, like thyself, with single brand : For this is Coilantogle ford, And thou must keep thee with thy sword.

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