The mysterious freebooter; or, The days of queen Bess, Volume 3

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Page 124 - Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer, Would use his heaven for thunder ; Nothing but thunder.
Page 124 - Merciful heaven ! Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, Than the soft myrtle ; but man, proud man ! Drest in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd, His glassy essence, like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, As make the angels weep ; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal.
Page 254 - O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.
Page 56 - What are these, So wither'd, and so wild in their attire ; That look not like the inhabitants o...
Page 72 - This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in. Jaq. All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players : They have their exits and their entrances ; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages.
Page 26 - Lets in defilement to the inward parts, The soul grows clotted by contagion, Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lose The divine property of her first being. Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp, Oft seen in charnel vaults and sepulchres Lingering and sitting by a new-made grave, As loth to leave the body that it loved, And link'd itself by carnal sensuality To a degenerate and degraded state.
Page 223 - From seventeen years till now almost fourscore Here lived I, but now live here no more. At seventeen years many their fortunes seek, But at fourscore it is too late a week: Yet fortune cannot recompense me better Than to die well and not my master's debtor.
Page 311 - Each sculptured stone, Strikes mute instruction to the heart ! Now let the sacred organ blow, With solemn pause, and sounding slow ; Now let the voice due measure keep, In strains that sigh, and words that weep ; Till all the vocal current blended roll, Not to depress, but lift...
Page 207 - Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises ; and oft it hits, Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits.
Page 311 - In honor of the approaching dead, Around your awful terrors pour. Yes, pour around On this pale ground, Through all this deep surrounding gloom, The sober thought, The tear untaught, Those meetest mourners at a tomb. Lo ! as the...

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