The Temple Shakespeare, Հատոր 5

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J.M. Dent and Company, 1897

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Էջ 9 - Who deserves greatness, Deserves your hate* and your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye ! Trust ye 1 With every minute you do change a mind ; And call him noble that was now your hate, Him vile that was your garland.
Էջ 96 - You common cry of curs ! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, — I banish you ; And here remain with your uncertainty!
Էջ 9 - What would you have, you curs, That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no, Than is the coal of the fire upon the ice, Or hailstone in the sun.
Էջ 142 - I'll never Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand, As if a man were author of himself, And knew no other kin.
Էջ 113 - I lov'd the maid I married; never man Sigh'd truer breath ; but that I see thee here, Thou noble thing ! more dances my rapt heart Than when I first my wedded mistress saw Bestride my threshold.
Էջ 142 - Like a dull actor now, I have forgot my part, and I am out, Even to a full disgrace.

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