Temple Bar, 第 39 巻

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George Augustus Sala, Edmund Yates
Ward and Lock, 1873
 

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468 ページ - For contemplation he and valour formed, For softness she and sweet attractive grace ; He for God only, she for God in him...
204 ページ - Excellent wretch ! Perdition catch my soul, But I do love thee ! and when I love thee not Chaos is come again.
213 ページ - Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have...
245 ページ - The times have been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end ; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools.
204 ページ - The current that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage ; But when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ; And so by many winding nooks he strays, With willing sport, to the wild ocean.
205 ページ - And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire. The chariest maid is prodigal enough, If she unmask her beauty to the moon : Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes : The canker galls the infants of the spring, Too oft before their buttons be disclosed ; And in the morn and liquid dew of youth Contagious blastments are most imminent.
213 ページ - 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? He would drown the stage with tears, And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, Make mad the guilty and appal the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed The very faculties of eyes and ears.
54 ページ - O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
214 ページ - My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.
212 ページ - Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood ; Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it...

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