Shakespeare's Puck, and His Folkslore: Illustrated from the Superstitions of All Nations, But More Especially from the Earliest Religion and Rites of Northern Europe and the Wends, Volume 2
The author, 1860
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Shakespeare's Puck, and His Folkslore: Illustrated from the ..., Volume 2
Geen voorbeeld beschikbaar - 1952
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Pagina 119 - And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, With Ate by his side come hot from hell, Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry 'Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war; That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial.
Pagina 181 - A new adventure him betides ; He met an Ant, which he bestrides, And post thereon away he rides, Which with his haste doth stumble, And came full over on her snout ; Her heels so threw the dirt about, For she by no means could get out, But over him doth tumble.
Pagina 9 - That frights the maidens of the villagery ; Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern. And bootless make the breathless housewife churn; And sometime make the drink to bear no barm : Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm? Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, You do their work, and they shall have good luck: Are not you he?
Pagina 23 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end, Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength; And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Pagina 315 - The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was.
Pagina 147 - Of hot pursuit, the broken cry of deer Mangled by throttling dogs, the shouts of men, And hoofs thick beating on the hollow hill.
Pagina 132 - There is an old tale goes, that Herne the hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, Doth all the winter time, at still midnight, Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns ; And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle; And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain In a most hideous and dreadful manner...
Pagina 47 - That slipp'd through cracks and zig-zags of the head ; All that on Folly Frenzy could beget, Fruits of dull heat, and sooterkins of wit. Next, o'er his books his eyes began to roll, In pleasing memory of all he stole, How here he sipp'd, how there he plunder'd snug, And suck'd all o'er, like an industrious bug.
Pagina 6 - Now it is the time of night That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide: And we fairies, that do run By the triple Hecate's team From the presence of the sun, Following darkness like a dream, Now are frolic; not a mouse Shall disturb this hallowed house: I am sent with broom before, To sweep the dust behind the door.