(_Richard II._)
Since the more fair crystal is the sky,
The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.
As when the golden sun salutes the morn,
And, having gilt the ocean with his beams,
Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach
And overlooks the highest peering hills,
So Tamora. (_Titus Andronicus._)
As all the world is cheered by the sun,
So I by that; it is my day, my life.
(_Richard III._)
So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not
To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,
As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote
The night of dew that on my cheek down flows;
Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright
Through the transparent bosom of the deep.
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light;
Thou shinest on every tear that I do weep.
(_Love's Labour's Lost._)
This is modern down to its finest detail, and much richer in
individuality than the most famous comparisons of the same kind in
antiquity.
Sea and stream are used:
Like an unseasonable stormy day
Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores
As if the world were all dissolved to tears,
So high above his limits swells the rage
Of Bolingbroke. (_Richard II._)
The current that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know'st, being stopped, impatiently doth rage;
But when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh on his pilgrimage;
And so by many winding nooks he strays
With willing sport to the wild ocean.
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