The Strange Case of Francis Tidir

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Robert Banks & Son, 1901 - 117 pages
 

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Page 2 - THE poet in a golden clime was born, With golden stars above; Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love.
Page 77 - Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience.
Page 79 - Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Page 78 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's...
Page 76 - There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
Page 2 - He saw thro' life and death, thro' good and ill, He saw thro' his own soul. The marvel of the everlasting will, An open scroll, Before him lay...
Page 50 - WRONG'D, yet not daring to expresse my paine, To you, great Lord, the causer of my care, In clowdie teares my case I thus complaine Unto your selfe, that onely privie are.
Page 61 - Again, the meanness of my estate doth somewhat move me: for though I cannot accuse myself, that I am either prodigal or slothful, yet my health is not to spend, nor my course to get.
Page 72 - Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, Thou dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot: Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remembered not.
Page 14 - And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before The Tavern shouted: 'Open then the Door! You know how little while we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more.

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