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added admirable answered appeared arms believe better brave called chamber child close companion continued cried Dame delicate door Dost doubt Dowlas entered exceeding excellent exclaimed exquisite eyes face fair famous fear fellow gave give hand hast hath head hear heard heart hold honest huge humour Humphrey John a Combe John Shakspeare keep kind knew knight known lady laughing learned live look Malmsey manner marvellous Master Buzzard Master Combe mean methinks Mistress monstrous mother moving nature needs neighbour never nought nurse observed person poor pray presently pretty proper prythee replied rest round scarce seemed seen shew side sight sort sure sweet thee thing Thomas thou thought took town turning villain voice whilst wife woman wonderful worship worthy young
Page 90 - And what's a life ? a weary pilgrimage, Whose glory in one day doth fill the stage With childhood, manhood, and decrepit age. And what's a life ? the flourishing array Of the proud summer meadow, which to-day Wears her green plush, and is to-morrow hay.
Page 224 - Withouten bake mete never was his hous, Of fish and flesh, and that so plenteous, It snewed in his hous of mete and drinke, Of alle deintees that men coud of thinke, After the sondry sesons of the yere, So changed he his mete and his soupere.
Page 207 - It is decreed ; and we must yield to fate, Whose angry justice, though it threaten ruin, Contempt, and poverty, is all but trial Of a weak woman's constancy in suffering. Here in a stranger's, and an enemy's land, Forsaken and unfurnish'd of all hopes, But such as wait on misery, I range To meet affliction wheresoe'er I tread.
Page 273 - A twenty bokes, clothed in black or red, Of Aristotle, and his philosophic, Than robes riche, or fidel, or sautrie.
Page 117 - ... wanton, smile upon my knee ; When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
Page 224 - Hood an ass with reverend purple, So you can hide his two ambitious ears, And he shall pass for a cathedral doctor.
Page 66 - These things begin To look like dangers, now, worthy my fates. Fortune, I see thy worst : let doubtful states, And things uncertain, hang upon thy will : Me surest death shall render certain still. Yet, why is now my thought turn'd toward death, Whom fates have let go on, so far in breath, Uncheck'd or unreproved ? I...
Page vii - Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time!