Reginald Hastings: Or, A Tale of the Troubles in 164-

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Harper, 1850 - 138 páginas

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Página 115 - A drop of patience : but, alas, to make me A fixed figure for the time of scorn To point his slow unmoving finger at ! Yet could I bear that too ; well, very well : But there, where I have garner'd up my heart, Where either I must live, or bear no life ; The fountain from the which my current runs, Or else dries up...
Página 108 - DUKE'S PALACE. [Enter DUKE, CURIO, LORDS; MUSICIANS attending.] DUKE. If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die.— That strain again;— it had a dying fall; O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.— Enough; no more; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Página 94 - HOLLAND, that scarce deserves the name of land As but the off-scouring of the British sand, And so much earth as was contributed By English pilots when they heaved the lead, Or what by the ocean's slow alluvion fell Of shipwrecked cockle and the muscle-shell, — This indigested vomit of the sea Fell to the Dutch by just propriety.
Página 86 - Our hearts with loyal flames; When thirsty grief in wine we steep, When healths and draughts go free Fishes that tipple in the deep Know no such liberty.
Página 127 - I am fire, and air; my other elements I give to baser life. So; have you done? Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell. [Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies. Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts, and is desir'd.
Página 97 - Gloster stumbled ; and, in falling, Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, Into the tumbling billows of the main. O Lord ! methought what pain it was to drown ! What dreadful noise of water in mine ears...
Página 8 - O, it is monstrous! monstrous! Methought, the billows spoke, and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd The name of Prosper; it did bass my trespass. Therefore my son i" the ooze is bedded ; and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, And with him there lie mudded.
Página 59 - Tast it self less than the Smell and Sight. Fruition more deceitful is Than Thou canst be, when thou dost miss ; Men leave thee by obtaining, and...
Página 115 - All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head; Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips; Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes; I should have found in some part of my soul A drop of patience...

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