Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen und Literaturen, Volumul 37;Volumul 39Westermann, 1866 Vols. for 1858- include "Sitzungen der Berliner Gesellschaft für das Studium der neueren Sprachen." |
Alte ediții - Afișează-le pe toate
Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen und Literaturen, Volumele 103-104 Vizualizare completă - 1899 |
Pasaje populare
Pagina 264 - From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain, and nourish all the world...
Pagina 279 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it; My part of death no one so true Did share it.
Pagina 298 - But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain, But with the motion of all elements Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices.
Pagina 275 - If we shadows have offended. Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend...
Pagina 295 - Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who hath it? He that died o
Pagina 406 - Wie schwer sind nicht die Mittel zu erwerben, Durch die man zu den Quellen steigt! Und eh' man nur den halben Weg erreicht, Muß wohl ein armer Teufel sterben.
Pagina 297 - Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear; Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks: Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
Pagina 271 - He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.
Pagina 287 - I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me : I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
Pagina 295 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'Tis insensible, then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon: and so ends my catechism.