The essays of EliaE. Moxon, 1840 |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 93
Página 2
... speak , as into a common stock Hence they formed a sort of Noah's | ark . Odd fishes . A lay - monastery . Domestic retainers in a great house , kept more for show than use . Yet pleasant fellows , full of chat— and not a few among them ...
... speak , as into a common stock Hence they formed a sort of Noah's | ark . Odd fishes . A lay - monastery . Domestic retainers in a great house , kept more for show than use . Yet pleasant fellows , full of chat— and not a few among them ...
Página 3
... speak of anything romantic without rebuke . Politics were excluded . A newspaper was thought too refined and abstracted . The whole duty of man consisted in writing off dividend warrants . The striking of the annual balance in the ...
... speak of anything romantic without rebuke . Politics were excluded . A newspaper was thought too refined and abstracted . The whole duty of man consisted in writing off dividend warrants . The striking of the annual balance in the ...
Página 12
... speak of him without something of terror allaying their gratitude ; the remem- * Cowley . brance of Field comes back with all the sooth- ing images of indolence , and summer slumbers , and work like play , and innocent idleness , and ...
... speak of him without something of terror allaying their gratitude ; the remem- * Cowley . brance of Field comes back with all the sooth- ing images of indolence , and summer slumbers , and work like play , and innocent idleness , and ...
Página 19
... speak of the grave as of some soft arms , in which they may slumber as on a pillow . Some have wooed death- -but out upon thee , I say , thou foul , ugly phantom ! I detest , abhor , execrate , and ( with Friar John ) give thee to six ...
... speak of the grave as of some soft arms , in which they may slumber as on a pillow . Some have wooed death- -but out upon thee , I say , thou foul , ugly phantom ! I detest , abhor , execrate , and ( with Friar John ) give thee to six ...
Página 23
... speaking ) handsome volutes to the human capital . Better my mother had never borne me . - I am , I think , rather delicately than copiously provided with those conduits ; and I feel no disposition to envy the mule for his plenty , or ...
... speaking ) handsome volutes to the human capital . Better my mother had never borne me . - I am , I think , rather delicately than copiously provided with those conduits ; and I feel no disposition to envy the mule for his plenty , or ...
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!