Miranda: You have often Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd, And left me to a bootless inquisition, Concluding, Stay; not yet. Prospero: The hour's now come; The very minute bids thee ope thine ear.
For rhetoric, he could not ope His mouth, but out there flew a trope; And when he happen'd to break off I' th' middle of his speech, or cough, H' had hard words,ready to show why, And tell what rules he did it by; Else, when with greatest art he spoke, You'd think he talk'd like other folk, For all a rhetorician's rules Teach nothing but to name his tools.
The irrevocable Hand That opes the year's fair gate, doth ope and shut The portals of our earthly destinies ; We walk through blindfold, and the noiseless doors Close after us, for ever. Pause, my soul , On these strange words for ever whose large sound Breaks flood-like, drowning all the petty noise Our human moans make on the shores of Time . O Thou that openest, and no man shuts; That shut'st, and no man opens Thee we wait!dinah maria mulock
Lord ope the King of England's eies.william tyndale
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phœbus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chalic'd flowers that lies. And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes; With everything that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise!william shakespeare
For rhetoric, he could not ope His mouth, but out there flew a trope.
Pindarum quisquis studet æmulari, Iule ceratis ope Dædalea Nititur pennis, vitreo daturus Nomina ponto.
I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips let no dog bark!william shakespeare
The violets ope their purple heads; The roses blow, the cowslip springs.jonathan swift
Primrose-eyes each morning ope In their cool, deep beds of grass; Violets make the air that pass Tell-tales of their fragrant slope.bayard taylor
And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes.william shakespeare
He is come to ope The purple testament of bleeding war.
He kept no Christmas-house for once a yeere, Each day his boards were fild with Lordly fare: He fed a rout of yeoman with his cheer, Nor was his bread and beefe kept in with care; His wine and beere to strangers were not spare, And yet beside to all that hunger greved, His gates were ope, and they were there relived.Robert Greene