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Էջ 81 - former, was built far higher in learning—solid, but slow in his performances: Shakspeare, like the latter, less in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about, and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention." Who that now sips his claret at
Էջ 29 - Earth has not anything to shew more fair! Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty. This city now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning. Silent, bare,
Էջ 197 - Fear no more the heat of the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and got thy wages : Princes, sages, peasants must Follow thee, and come to dust!
Էջ 30 - first splendour valley, rock, or hill: Ne'er saw I—never felt—a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will : Dear God ! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still 1
Էջ 28 - things that no gross ear can hear, Till oft converse with heavenly habitants Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape, The unpolluted temple of the mind, And turn it by degrees to the soul's essence. Till all be made immortal.
Էջ 81 - speaks of in his book of Worthies, took place. Describing these, he says, " Many were the wit-combats between Shakspeare and Ben Jonson. I behold them, like a Spanish great galleon and an English man-of-war. Master Jonson, like the former, was built far higher in learning—solid, but slow in his performances:
Էջ 6 - with excess of light," and behold again the refreshing green of the pastoral earth. " Straight your eye hath caught new pleasures, As the landscape round it measures ! Russet lawns and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray: ***** Meadows trim, with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.
Էջ 83 - Ah! Ben, Say how, or when Shall we, thy guests, Meet at those lyrick feasts Made at the Sun, The Dog, the Triple Tun ; Where we such clusters had, As made us nobly wild, not mad .' And yet each verse of thine Outdid the
Էջ 27 - Divine Philosophy, Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute. And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns
Էջ 83 - My Ben! Or come agen, Or send to us Thy wit's great overplus : But teach us yet Wisely to husband it; Lest we that talent spend, And, having once brought to an end That precious stock, the store Of such a wit, the world should have no more!

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