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Alon arms bear behold better bless blood brave breast bring Cæsar Cast cause comes command court curse danger dare dead dear death dost earth Enter Erit eyes face fair faith fall false fate father fear follow force fortune give gods grief guard hand happy hast hate head hear heart Heaven hold honour hope hour I'll keep kill kind king lady leave live look lord lost means meet mind nature never night noble o'er once pain passion peace pity poor prince rage reason rest rise ruin SCENE slave soldier sorrow soul speak stand sure sword tears tell thee thing thou art thou hast thought true truth turn virtue wait wish wretch wrong
Стр. 31 - em grow again. Seeing such pretty helpless innocence Dwell in his face, I asked him all his story. He told me that his parents gentle died Leaving him to the mercy of the fields, Which gave him roots ; and of the crystal springs, Which did not stop their courses ; and the sun, Which still, he thanked him, yielded him his light.
Стр. 185 - Nay, stop not. Ant. Antony, — Well, thou wilt have it, — like a coward, fled, Fled while his soldiers fought ; fled first, Ventidius. Thou long'st to curse me, and I give thee leave. I know thou cam'st prepared to rail. Vent. I did.
Стр. 351 - The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years, But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhurt amidst the war of elements, The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.
Стр. 342 - Honour's a sacred tie, the law of kings, The noble mind's distinguishing perfection, That aids and strengthens virtue where it meets her, And imitates her actions, where she is not : It ought not to be sported with.
Стр. 339 - Bid him disband his legions, Restore the commonwealth to liberty, Submit his actions to the public censure, And stand the judgment of a Roman senate. Bid him do this, and Cato is his friend.
Стр. 185 - It sits too near you. Ant. Here, here it lies ; a lump of lead by day, And, in my short, distracted, nightly slumbers, The hag that rides my dreams.
Стр. 240 - For charitable succour ; wilt thou then, When in a bed of straw we shrink together, And the bleak winds shall whistle round our heads ; Wilt thou then talk thus to me ? Wilt thou then Hush my cares thus, and shelter me with love ? Belv.
Стр. 350 - It must be so — Plato, thou reasonest well ; Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Of falling into nought ? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? Tis the divinity that stirs within us ; 'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man ! Eternity ! thou pleasing, dreadful thought ! Through what variety of untried being, Through what new scenes...