Shakespeares Poems and Pericles

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Oxford University Press, 1905
 

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Pagina 130 - I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your Lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden.
Pagina 159 - We have not reprinted the Sonnets, &c. of Shakspeare, because the strongest act of parliament that could be framed would fail to compel readers into their service...
Pagina 159 - As the soul of Euphorbus was thought to live in Pythagoras, so the sweet witty soul of Ovid lives in mellifluous and honey-tongued Shakespeare : witness his ' Venus and Adonis,' his ' Lucrece,' his sugared sonnets among his private friends, &c.
Pagina 159 - Hence it is, that from the perpetual activity of attention required on the part of the reader ; from the rapid flow, the quick change, and the playful nature of the thoughts and images ; and above all from the alienation, and, if I may hazard such an expression, the utter aloofness of the poet's own feelings, from those of which he is at once the painter and the analyst...
Pagina 159 - I have sithence endevoured by all good meanes, (for the better encrease and accomplishment of your delights,) to get into my handes such smale poemes of the same Authors as I heard were disperst abroad in sundrie hands, and not easie to bee come by by himselfe ; some of them having bene diverslie imbeziled and purloyned from him, since his departure over sea.
Pagina 21 - At the end of the fifteenth and at the beginning of the sixteenth century it...
Pagina 130 - Much less of powerful gods; let it suffice That my slack muse sings of Leander's eyes, Those orient cheeks and lips, exceeding his That leapt into the water for a kiss Of his own shadow, and despising many, Died ere he could enjoy the love of any.
Pagina 159 - Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew ; Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose : They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, As with your shadow I with these did play.

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