Studies, biographical and literary

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Simpkin, Marshall & Company, 1867 - 168 pages
 

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Page 18 - Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three on's are sophisticated; thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.
Page 11 - He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
Page 135 - What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! Heard words that have been So nimble and so full of subtle flame As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life.
Page 34 - Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, When our deep plots do pall : and that should teach us. There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.* Hor.
Page 16 - Stain my man's cheeks! — No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both That all the world shall, — I will do such things, — What they are yet, I know not; but they shall be The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep; No, I'll not weep: — I have full cause of weeping; but this heart Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws Or ere I'll weep. — O fool, I shall go mad!
Page 84 - Sir, he was a scoundrel, and a coward : a scoundrel for charging a blunderbuss against religion and morality ; a coward, because he had not resolution to fire it off himself, but left half a crown to a beggarly Scotchman to draw the trigger after his death...
Page 20 - Pray, do not mock me : I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward ; and, to deal plainly, I fear, I am not in my perfect mind. Methinks, I should know you, and know this man ; Yet I am doubtful : for I am mainly ignorant What place this is : and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments ; nor I know not Where I did lodge last night : Do not laugh at me ; For, as I am a man, I think this lady To be my child Cordelia.
Page 28 - My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, And makes as healthful music : it is not madness That I have utter'd : bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word, which madness Would gambol from.
Page 150 - As for me, I am no more yours, nor you mine ; death hath cut us asunder, and God hath divided me from the world, and you from me.
Page 149 - EVEN such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with earth and dust; Who, in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust!

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