Works, Том 9

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Стр. 113 - The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, which in their seeds And weak beginnings lie intreasured. Such things become the hatch and brood of time...
Стр. 240 - But methinks he should stand in fear of fire, being burnt i' the hand for stealing of sheep. CADE Be brave, then; for your captain is brave, and vows reformation. There shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny: the three-hooped pot; shall have ten hoops and I will make it felony to drink small beer...
Стр. 433 - What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her/ What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have...
Стр. 414 - Why have my sisters husbands, if they say They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry Half my love with him, half my care and duty. Sure I shall never marry like my sisters, To love my father all.
Стр. 22 - I think you are mistaken, Miss Effingham, for the public sentiment just now runs almost exclusively and popularly into the Grecian school. We build little besides temples for our churches, our banks, our taverns, our court-houses, and our dwellings. A friend of mine has just built a brewery on the model of the Temple of the Winds.
Стр. 137 - Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished! Reply, reply. It is engendered in the eyes. With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell : I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell.
Стр. 134 - The whole country is in such a constant state of mutation, that I can only liken it to the game of children, in which, as one quits his corner, another runs into it, and he that finds no corner to get into, is the laughingstock of the others.
Стр. 153 - My fathers' ancient burial-place, Ere from these vales, ashamed and weak, Withdrew our wasted race. It is the spot, — I know it well — Of which our old traditions tell.
Стр. 4 - ... this country, in its ordinary aspects, probably presents as barren a field to the writer of fiction, and to the dramatist, as any other on earth ; we are not certain that we might not say the most barren. We believe that no attempt to delineate ordinary American life, either on the stage, or in the pages of a novel, has been rewarded with success.
Стр. 252 - CHAPTER XVI. Her breast was a brave palace, a broad street, Where all heroic, ample thoughts did meet, Where nature such a tenement had ta'en, That other souls, to hers, dwell in a lane.

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