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Page 21 - Windsor, thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry me and make me my lady thy wife.
Page 2 - Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy was burn'd; But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue, And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it.
Page 39 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge, And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes...
Page 40 - God ! that one might read the Book of Fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea : and, other times, to see The beachy girdle of the ocean Too wide for Neptune's hips ; how chances mock, And changes fill the cup of alteration With divers liquors ! [0, if this were seen, The happiest youth, viewing .his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book, and sit him down and die...
Page 51 - I'll ne'er bear a base mind: — an't be my destiny, so; an't be not, so: No man's too good to serve his prince ; and, let it go which way it will, he that dies this year, is quit for the next.
Page 39 - That, with the hurly, death itfelf awakes ? Can'ft thou, O partial Sleep ! give thy repofe To the wet fea-boy in an hour fo rude ; And in the calmeft and the ftilleft night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king ? + then, happy low, lie down ! Uneafy lies the head that wears a crown.
Page 42 - By yea and nay, sir, I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar. He is at Oxford still, is he not ? Sil. Indeed, sir, to my cost. Shal. A' must then to the inns o
Page 39 - That, with the hurly * death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And, in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king ? Then, happy lowly clown ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Page 38 - A watch-cafe, or a common larum bell? Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy maft, Seal up the fhip-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude, imperious furge ; And in the vifitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monftrous heads, and hanging them With deafening clamours on the flipp'ry fhrouds, That with the hurly death itfelf awakes?