Shakespere's garden; or, The plants and flowers named in his works described and defined1864 |
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alluded beautiful blossoms boughs branches briar broom buds Bulleyn called Calluna Carduus benedictus CHAPTER cockle colour common Coriolanus cowslip crab Cuckoo flower cultivated in England cypress darnel dog rose doth eaten Eglantine Eringoes Evelyn fairy Falstaff flowers folio following lines fruit furze gardens garland garlick green grows in woods growth Hamlet hath heath henbane Henry herb Herbal Holy thistle juice Juliet King Lady smocks leaves leek lily live Lolium temulentum Love's Labour's lost mandrake marigold marjoram meadows medlar Midsummer Night's Dream nature nettles night noticed Ophelia Orchis Oxlip pale Parkinson peonied Petty whin plants named play Pliny poet poison primrose Primula printed Queen referred roasted Romeo roots rosemary sad cypress Scene seede Shak Shakspere Shakspere's sleep smell song speaking spere Spring strew sweet tells thee thistle thou translation tree Turner unto vine Viola odorata violet virtues vulgaris weed wild wind Winter's Tale woodbine
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Trang 8 - It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul — Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars ! — It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood; Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster.
Trang 4 - tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners : so that if we will plant nettles, or sow lettuce ; set hyssop, and weed up thyme ; supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract it with many ; either to have it steril with idleness, or manured with industry, — why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills.
Trang 8 - 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.
Trang 165 - I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin, And let him find it : trifles, light as air, Are to the jealous confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ.
Trang 6 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ; The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost ; And — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Trang 57 - 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 enamel'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.
Trang 49 - When summer's breath their masked buds discloses : But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so ; Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made : And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, When that shall fade, my verse distils your truth.
Trang 143 - Come on, sir; here's the place: — stand still. — How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon' tall anchoring bark, Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy Almost too small for sight: The murmuring surge.
Trang xii - Soul of the age! The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live And we have wits to read and praise to give.
Trang 5 - O thou goddess, Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st In these two princely boys ! They are as gentle As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head : and yet as rough, Their royal blood enchafed, as the rudest wind, That by the. top doth take the mountain pine And make him stoop to the vale.