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appear attainment boast brain brings cause certainly CHORUS TO FOOLS common conceive conduct Crowds flock death desire display doth effects equally ev'ry exclaim eyes fact fail famous fear feel folly fortune frequently give gold hand hath head hear honour human ideot instance King L'ENVOY labour lady late less lines live look Lord matter means mind nature naught ne'er never noble once opinion pain pass period person play POET POET'S CHORUS possessed present productions prove Rara Avis reader reason respect round rules sense shame speaking species Stultifera Navis sufficient thee thine thing thou thought trim the boat truth turn vice wisdom wise youth
Page 2 - The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness.
Page 223 - 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: let me go with you; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities.
Page 146 - ... we make guilty of our disasters, the sun, the moon, and the stars : as if we were villains by necessity; fools, by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers, by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on : An admirable evasion of whore-master man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of a star!
Page 196 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? • no. Is it insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I'll none of it: honour is a mere scutcheon: — and so ends my catechism.
Page 146 - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, — often the surfeit of our own behaviour, — we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars...
Page 176 - Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind 'away: O, that that earth which kept the world in awe Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw!— But soft!
Page 153 - tis a common proof, That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; But when he once attains the upmost round, He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend.
Page 175 - To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus Comes at the last and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!