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Memoirs of Miss O'Neill: Containing Her Public Character, Private Life, and ...
Charles Inigo Jones
Sin vista previa disponible - 2016
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Página 14 - Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face ; Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke. But farewell compliment ! Dost thou love me ? I know thou wilt say — Ay; And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'sV Thou mayst prove false ; at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs.
Página 86 - 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 85 - Because authority, though it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, That skins the vice o' the top. Go to your bosom ; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know That's like my brother's fault: if it confess A natural guiltiness such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue 140 Against my brother's life.
Página 14 - O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear: Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
Página 15 - O gentle Romeo ! If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; And therefore thou mayst think my 'haviour light: But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
Página 20 - O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh.
Página 79 - Had nipp'd; and with a careful loving hand, Transplanted her into your own fair garden, Where the sun always shines.
Página 60 - Name him no more: He was the bane and ruin of my peace. This anguish and these tears, these are the legacies His fatal love has left me. Thou wilt see me, Believe me, my Alicia, thou wilt see me, Ere yet a few short days pass o'er my head, Abandon'd to the very utmost wretchedness.