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absol All's answer arms bear beat beauty better blood body born bound breath bring Caes Compl Cymb death doth Especially eyes face fair father fear Figuratively fire Followed Gent Gentl give H4B II hand hath head heart heaven Hence hold honour hour intr John keep kind king leave light live look lord Lucr master means Meas Merch Mids mind nature never night person Pilgr play Prol rest sense side sometimes Sonn speak speech stand strange subst sweet thee thine thing thou thoughts tongue trans Troil true turn wind Wint
109. lappuse - They say, miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons, to make modern- and familiar things, supernatural and causeless. Hence is it, that we make trifles of terrors; ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.
109. lappuse - In following him, I follow but myself; Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end : For when my outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure of my heart In compliment extern, 'tis not long after But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at : I am not what I am.
29. lappuse - I see, men's judgments are A parcel of their fortunes ; and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them, To suffer all alike.
33. lappuse - I'll look up;] My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'?
109. lappuse - So did this horse excel a common one, In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone. Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: Look what a horse should have he did not lack...
98. lappuse - Nay, but this dotage of our general's O'erflows the measure : those his goodly eyes, That o'er the files and musters of the war Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn The office and devotion of their view Upon a tawny front...
108. lappuse - Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from...