The essays of EliaE. Moxon, 1840 |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 98
Página 3
... called them , culled from club - rooms and orchestras-- chorus singers - first and second violoncellos- double basses - and clarionets who ate his cold mutton , and drank his punch , and praised his ear . He sate like Lord Midas among ...
... called them , culled from club - rooms and orchestras-- chorus singers - first and second violoncellos- double basses - and clarionets who ate his cold mutton , and drank his punch , and praised his ear . He sate like Lord Midas among ...
Página 9
... called our dormitories . This game went on for better than a week , till the foolish beast , not able to fare well but he must cry roast L's governor ( so we called the patron who presented us to the foundation ) lived in a manner under ...
... called our dormitories . This game went on for better than a week , till the foolish beast , not able to fare well but he must cry roast L's governor ( so we called the patron who presented us to the foundation ) lived in a manner under ...
Página 12
... called cat - cradles ; or making dry peas to dance upon the end of a tin pipe ; or studying the art military over that laudable game " French and English , " and a hundred other such devices to pass away the time - mixing the useful ...
... called cat - cradles ; or making dry peas to dance upon the end of a tin pipe ; or studying the art military over that laudable game " French and English , " and a hundred other such devices to pass away the time - mixing the useful ...
Página 22
... called it an ungrammatical game . The pegging teased her . I once knew her to forfeit a rubber ( a five - dollar stake , ) because she would not take advantage of the turn - up knave , which would have given it her , but which she must ...
... called it an ungrammatical game . The pegging teased her . I once knew her to forfeit a rubber ( a five - dollar stake , ) because she would not take advantage of the turn - up knave , which would have given it her , but which she must ...
Página 25
... called , do plague and embitter my apprehension . - Words are something ; but to be exposed to an endless | battery of mere sounds ; to be long a dying , to lie stretched upon a rack of roses ; to keep up languor by unintermitted effort ...
... called , do plague and embitter my apprehension . - Words are something ; but to be exposed to an endless | battery of mere sounds ; to be long a dying , to lie stretched upon a rack of roses ; to keep up languor by unintermitted effort ...
Términos y frases comunes
Angelo Anthonio Antipholis Bassanio beauty Benedick Bertram better brother brought called Cassio child Claudio confess count Paris cousin Cymbeline daughter dead dear death Desdemona dreams Dromio duke Ephesus eyes face fancy father fear feel Ganimed gentle gentleman give grace Hamlet hath hear heard heart Helena Hermia Hertfordshire honour husband Iago Illyria Imogen Isabel Katherine kind king knew lady Leonato lived look lord lord Capulet Lysander Lysimachus Macbeth maid manner Marina marriage married master Michael Cassio mind nature never night noble Olivia once Orlando Othello passion Pericles person Petruchio play pleasant poor Portia present prince Prospero Protheus Quakers queen remember replied Romeo Rosalind seemed seen Shylock sight sleep sort speak spirit strange sweet tell thee thing thou thought Timon tion told true truth Tybalt Valentine Viola whist wife wish words young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 55 - Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide; There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and combs its silver wings, And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various light.
Página 55 - What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine; The nectarine and curious peach Into my hands themselves do reach; Stumbling on melons, as I pass, Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Página 74 - Not a flower, not a flower sweet, • On my black coffin let there be strown ; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown : A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O ! where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there.
Página 73 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat, like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
Página 69 - O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die ? The sense of death is most in apprehension ; And the poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
Página 74 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it; My part of death no one so true Did share it.
Página 50 - In the same hour came forth fingers of a man's hand, and wrote over against the candlestick upon the plaster of the wall of the king's palace: and the king saw the part of the hand that wrote.
Página 95 - twas strange, 'twas passing strange; 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful; She wished she had not heard it, yet she wished That heaven had made her such a man; she thanked me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake; She loved me for the dangers I had passed, And I loved her that she did pity them.
Página 75 - While he was thinking what he should say to his father, and wringing his hands over the smoking remnants of one of those untimely sufferers, an odor assailed his nostrils, unlike any scent which he had before experienced.
Página 42 - Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit? Are beauties there as proud as here they be ? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn, whom that love doth possess? Do they call virtue there — ungratefulness!