The pity of it, Volume 2

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Page 281 - Yet it shall be: thou shalt lower to his level day by day, What is fine within thee growing coarse to sympathise with clay. As the husband is, the wife is: thou art mated with a clown, And the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down.
Page 197 - Which when it least appear'd to melt, Intently thought — intensely felt : The deepest ice which ever froze Can only o'er the surface close — The living stream lies quick below, And flows — and cannot cease to flow.
Page 257 - Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And, sure, he is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause; What cause withholds you then to mourn for him ? O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason!
Page 1 - As ill as that malicious smile becomes you, I am glad you put it on : for it convinces me, that what you have said is purely your own suggestion, which I know how to despise. Or, perhaps, you call a set of flirts, the world : by such a world, I would always be spoken ill of: the slander of some people is as great a recommendation as the praise of others.
Page 121 - And seraphs sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued. Out — out are the lights — out all! And, over each quivering form, The curtain, a funeral pall, Comes down with the rush of a storm, While the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirm That the play is the tragedy, "Man," And its hero the Conqueror Worm.
Page 229 - It is the saying of a great man, that if we could trace our descents we should find all slaves to come from princes and all princes from slaves.
Page 244 - Do you know what Jacobus says, that " one cannot ask any person to meet another in one's own house without going through a sum of moral arithmetic.
Page 176 - A wee bird cam to oor ha' door, It warbled sweet and clearly, And aye the o'ercome o' its sang Was, Wae's me for Prince Charlie l" This form is quite in common use as an a.
Page 305 - ... if in pain ? Do you not love my mother? can you not love her son? Oh! you can make my mother happy; for, if you will give yourself to me, you will make me all her poor, wounded heart could wish. Darling, you shall never, never hear a rough word from my lips ; I will have no will but yours. Even if you do not love me as I would have you love me, as I will make you love me, only tell me you will try. You dare not say me nay, Maggie ; you dare not throw me back into the reckless life I would leave...
Page 149 - ... of the sheep-cote cautiously opened, and a slouching figure issue and take its stand beside a tree with the evident purpose of reconnoitring ; but Joe held on his way stolidly, and as they neared the end of the field, the voice took up its lay again, and sang in strange congruity to circumstance, ' Now on the barren heath they lie, Their funeral dirge the eagles cry ; The lonely cairn is o'er the men Wha fought and died for Charlie.

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