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Autres éditions - Tout afficher
admiration affected afterwards ambition Archer asked De Vere basque beautiful became better Bolingbroke called Castle Mowbray character charm choly Clayton consolation contemplation court cousin cried De Vere dance dear delightful disappointed Dovedale England Epernon excited exclaimed fancy father favour fear feeling gave gentleman happiness Harclai heard heart honour hope humour imagination interest Jugurtha knew Lady Constance Lady Eleanor laughed least leave look Lord Cleveland Lord Mowbray Lord Oldcastle master melan ment mind Mortimer mother nature ness never observed De Vere party passed patron perhaps person pleased pleasure Poland Pyrenees racter replied De Vere retired retreat returned Rivers scene seemed seen sentiment shewed silence soon sort spirit Staroste suppose sweet talked thing thought tion told travellers truth turned Tutbury Castle uncle Vere's whole Wilmot wish wonder young Zerlina
Page 275 - For time is like a fashionable host, That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer : welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing.
Page 203 - All places that the eye of heaven visits Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. Teach thy necessity to reason thus ; There is no virtue like necessity.
Page 184 - Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body.
Page 275 - To have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Take the instant way For honour travels in a strait so narrow, W'here one but goes abreast: keep then the path; For emulation hath a thousand sons, That one by one pursue: If you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by, And leave you hindmost...
Page 270 - Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes : Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done...
Page 88 - WHAT shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own...
Page 226 - Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat-- Come hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall we see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i' the sun, Seeking the food he eats And pleased with what he gets-- Come hither, come hither, come hither!