English Writers: An Attempt Towards a History of English Literature, Volume 11

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Cassell, limited, 1895
 

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Page 45 - It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way : thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition — but without The illness should attend it : what thou wouldst highly That wouldst thou holily : wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win : Thou 'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries, " Thus thou must do, if thou have it;" And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone.
Page 219 - Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show, To whom all Scenes of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time ! And all the Muses still were in their prime When like Apollo he came forth to warm Our ears or like a Mercury to charm ! Nature herself was proud of his designs, And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines ! Which were so richly spun.
Page 40 - Fair is foul, and foul is fair; Hover through the fog and filthy air.
Page 49 - tis not done; the attempt and not the deed Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready; He could not miss them. Had he not resembled My father as he slept I had done 't.
Page 11 - ... a couch whereupon to rest a searching and restless spirit, or a terrace for a wandering and variable mind to walk up and down with a fair prospect, or a tower of state for a proud mind to raise itself upon, or a fort or commanding ground for strife and contention, or a shop for profit and sale ; and not a rich store-house for the glory of the Creator and the relief of man's estate.
Page 54 - I pray you, speak not ; he grows worse and worse; Question enrages him : at once, good night : — Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once.
Page 43 - I am thane of Cawdor: If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature?
Page 204 - This many summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Page 86 - I will make them conform, or I will harry them out of the land, or else worse,"
Page 52 - Nought's had, all's spent, Where our desire is got without content : 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.

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