Essays and Studies

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Macmillan and Company, 1895 - Literary Criticism - 369 pages

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Page 136 - O th' exceeding grace Of highest God ! that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed angels he sends to and fro, To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe. " How oft do they their silver bowers leave To come to succour us, that succour want ? How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant Against foul fiends, to aid us militant? They for us fight, they watch and duly ward, And their bright squadrons round about us...
Page 291 - A' made a finer end and went away an it had been any christom child; a' parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o' the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his fingers...
Page 82 - I shall say the less of Mr Collier, because in many things he has taxed me justly; and I have pleaded guilty to all thoughts and expressions of mine which can be truly argued of obscenity, profaneness, or immorality, and retract them. If he be my enemy, let him triumph; if he be my friend, as I have given him no personal occasion to be otherwise, he will be glad of my repentance.
Page 306 - O, beware, my lord, of jealousy ; It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on...
Page 139 - In the month of May, namely, on May-day in the morning, every man, except impediment, would walk into the sweet meadows and green woods, there to rejoice their spirits with the beauty and savour of sweet flowers, and with the harmony of birds, praising God in their kind...
Page 300 - His legs bestrid the ocean : his rear'd arm Crested the world : his voice was propertied As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends ; But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, There was no winter...
Page 19 - plain John Dryden, before he paid his court with success to the great, in one uniform clothing of Norwich drugget. I have eat tarts with him and Madam Reeve at the Mulberry Garden, when our author advanced to a sword and a Chadreux wig.
Page 78 - Fate could not choose a more malicious hour! What greater curse could envious Fortune give, Than just to die, when I began to live! Vain men, how vanishing a bliss we crave, Now warm in love, now withering in the grave! Never, O never more to see the sun!
Page 152 - From jigging veins of rhyming mother wits And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay, We'll lead you to the stately tent of war Where you shall hear the Scythian Tamburlaine Threatening the world with high astounding terms And scourging kingdoms with his conquering sword.
Page 185 - The First Part of the Contention,' and ' The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York...

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