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Updated: June 2, 2025
I cannot bring My tongue to such a pace: Look, Sir, my wounds; I got them in my country's service, when Some certain of your brethren roar'd, and ran From the noise of OUR OWN DRUMS. Men. O me, the gods! You must not speak of that; you must desire them To think upon you. Cor. Think upon me? Hang 'em! I would they would forget me, like the virtues Which our divines lose by them. Men.
You lords and HEADS of the STATE, perfidiously Has he betrayed your business, and given up For certain drops of salt, your city Rome I say, your city to his wife and mother: Breaking his oath and resolution like A twist of rotten silk; never admitting Counsel of the war, but at his nurse's tears He whined and roar'd away your victory, That pages blushed at him, and men of heart Looked wondering at each other.
Silent he went on his way, where the sea-waves roar'd on the sand-beach, Till at a distance remote, when the voice of his strong supplication Call'd on Apollo the King, that was born of the ringleted Leto: "Hear me, Protector divine, both of Chrysa and beautiful Killa, God of the silvery bow, over Tenedos mightily reigning! Smintheus!
Roar'd the sable flood Around the bark, that ever as she went Dash'd wide the brine, and scudded swift away. COWPER'S Homer.
And thou dost come, my friend. I hear often thy light hand on my harp, when it hangs on the distant wall, and the feeble sound touches my ear. Why dost thou not speak to me in my grief, and tell me when I shall behold my friends? But thou passest away in thy murmuring blast; the wind whistles through the gray hairs of Ossian." The wind was abroad in the oaks. The spirit of the mountain roar'd.
Sir Richard spoke and he laughed, and we roar'd a hurrah, and so The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe, With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below; For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen. And the little Revenge ran on thro' the long sea lane between.
"We feel sorry for our quarrels with our worst enemy when we see him lying still and quiet dead. Why can't we try and feel a bit sorry beforehand?" For Auld Lang Syne. We twa ha' padl't i' the burn, Fra mornin' sun till dine; But seas between us braid ha' roar'd Sin' Auld Lang Syne. "I used to feel blazing bitter against things one time but it never hurt anybody but myself in the end.
L. Ful. Sir Feeble Fainwou'd! rise, are you both mad? Sir Cau. No, no, Madam, we have seen the Devil. Sir Feeb. Ay, and he was as tall as the Monument. Sir Cau. With Eyes like a Beacon and a Mouth, Heaven bless us, like London Bridge at a full Tide. Sir Feeb. Ay, and roar'd as loud. L. Ful. Idle Fancies, what makes you from your Bed? and you, Sir, from your Bride? Enter Dick with Sack. Sir Feeb.
From bard to bard, the frigid caution crept, And declamation roar'd while passion slept. Mr. Dryden seems to be sensible, that he was not born to write comedy; for, says he, 'I want that gaiety of humour which is required in it; my conversation is slow and dull, my humour saturnine and reserved.
Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did. The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy; But ere we could arrive the point propos'd, Caesar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink!"
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