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Page 81 - I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, Thou wondrous man. Trin. A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard ! Cal. I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow ; And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts ; Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmoset ; I'll bring thee To clustering filberts and sometimes I'll get thee Young scamels from the rock.
Page 137 - A pillar of state : deep on his front engraven Deliberation sat and public care ; And princely counsel in his face yet shone, Majestic though in ruin : sage he stood, With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear The weight of mightiest monarchies ; his look Drew audience and attention still as night Or summer's noontide air...
Page 81 - My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn, I saw good strawberries in your garden there ; I do beseech you send for some of them.
Page 88 - To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart, To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold...
Page 90 - Stuarts' throne; The bigots of the iron time Had called his harmless art a crime. A wandering harper, scorned and poor, He begged his bread from door to door, And tuned, to please a peasant's ear, The harp a king had loved to hear.
Page 81 - The broken sheds look'd sad and strange : Unlifted was the clinking latch ; Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange. She only said, " My life is dreary, He cometh not...
Page 54 - I shall say but very short prayers, and then thrust out my hands' - as the sign to strike. He put his hair up, under a white satin cap which the bishop had carried, and said, 'I have a good cause and a gracious God on my side.
Page 133 - Let him that is a true-born gentleman, And stands upon the honour of his birth, 28 If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, From off this brier pluck a white rose with me.
Page 9 - Bra. Look to her, Moor ; have a quick eye to see ; She has deceived her father, and may thee.
Page 55 - Tis brightness all ; save where the new snow melts Along the mazy current. Low the woods Bow their hoar head ; and ere the languid sun, Faint from the west, emits his evening ray, Earth's universal face, deep-hid and chill, Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide The works of man.