English Writers: An Attempt Towards a History of English Literature, Volume 10

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Cassell, limited, 1893 - English literature

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Page 280 - His industry is upstairs and down-stairs ; his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north ; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife ' Fie upon this quiet life ! I want work.
Page 423 - Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty ; For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility ; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly.
Page 244 - But now we are delivered from the law, that being dead wherein we were held ; that we should serve in newness of spirit, and not in the oldness of the letter.
Page 245 - Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold : There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins ; Such harmony is in immortal souls ; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. Enter Musicians. Come, ho ! and wake Diana with a hymn : With sweetest touches...
Page 151 - gainst my fury Do I take part : the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance : they being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend Not a frown further : Go, release them, Ariel ; My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, And they shall be themselves.
Page 239 - There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dressed in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, As who should say, 'I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips let no dog bark'....
Page 295 - Every subject's duty is the King's, but every subject's soul is his own. Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash every mote out of his conscience...
Page 286 - I know thee not, old man: Fall to thy prayers ; How ill white hairs become a fool, and jester!
Page 134 - And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle...
Page 242 - O, that estates, degrees and offices Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour Were purchased by the merit of the wearer! How many then should cover that stand bare! How many be commanded that command ! How much low peasantry would then be...

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