Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline
-- Act ii, Sc. 3
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline
-- Act ii, Sc. 3
Related:
- Brain him with his lady's fan.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616),
King Henry IV -- Act ii, Sc.... - Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
The Lord's anointed temple,
and stole thence The life o' the building! -- William... - Hath his bellyful of fighting.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616),
Cymbeline -- Act ii, Sc.... - The game is up.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616),
Cymbeline -- Act iii, Sc.... - Take but degree away, untune that string,
And, hark,
what discord follows! each thing meets In mere oppugnancy... - The most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace.
William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline -- Act... - When in distress with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate;
Wishing me like to one more rich in fate Featured like... - The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.
--
William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Richard II ... - Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616),
Twelfth Night -- Act ii, Sc....
