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Page 38 - I' the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things ; for no kind of traffic Would I admit ; no name of magistrate ; Letters should not be known ; riches, poverty, And use of service, none ; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none ; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil ; No occupation ; all men idle, all ; And women too, — but innocent and pure ; No sovereignty, — Seb.
Page 27 - em. Cal. I must eat my dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak'st from me. When thou earnest first, Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me ; wouldst give me Water with berries in't ; and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night : and then I lov'd thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o...
Page 77 - The charm dissolves apace ; And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason.
Page 81 - O, wonder ! How many goodly creatures are there here ! How beauteous mankind is ! O, brave new world, That has such people in't ! Pro. 'Tis new to thee.
Page 126 - 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 th' 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.
Page 147 - Who is Silvia ? what is she, That all our swains commend her ? Holy, fair, and wise is she, The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired' be. Is she kind as she is fair ? For beauty lives with kindness : Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness; And, being helped, inhabits there.
Page 76 - Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When he comes back...
Page 274 - O fellow, come, the song we had last night :— Mark it, Cesario ; it is old and plain : The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids, that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chaunt it ; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
Page 63 - O, it is monstrous, monstrous ! Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it ; The winds did sing it to me ; and the thunder. That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd The name of Prosper : it did bass my trespass. Therefore my son i' th' ooze is bedded ; and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, And with him there lie mudded.