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appear attend beauty brother cause child cold comfort Conscience cried crime danger dare delight doubt dread duty ease face fair faithful fall fate father fear feel felt fond force fortune gain gave gentle George give grace grief grieved hand happy hear heard heart hope hour humble husband Jesse John kind knew lady live look maid mean meet mind nature never night once pain peace pleased pleasure poor pride prove reason replied rest secret seen shame sigh smile soon sorrow sought soul speak spirit Squire strong sure TALE terror thee thing thou thought told took tried trouble true truth virtue weak wife wish wrong young youth
Strona 163 - He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity...
Strona 97 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; And, with some sweet, oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
Strona 221 - A credulous father, and a brother noble, Whose nature is so far from doing harms, That he suspects none, on whose foolish honesty My practices ride easy ! — I see the business.
Strona 97 - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree; All several sins, all us'd in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all 'Guilty! guilty!
Strona 22 - ... around, And what is seen is all on fairy ground ; Again they sicken, and on every view Cast their own dull and melancholy hue ; Or, if absorb'd by their peculiar cares, The vacant eye on viewless matter glares, Our feelings still upon our views attend, And their own natures to the objects lend ; Sorrow and joy are in their influence sure., Long as the passion reigns th...
Strona 3 - But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn, Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
Strona 163 - My wits begin to turn. — Come on, my boy : How dost, my boy ? Art cold ? I am cold myself. — Where is this straw, my fellow ? The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious.
Strona 199 - And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Strona 118 - Oh ! Conscience ! Conscience ! man's most faithful friend, Him canst thou comfort, ease, relieve, defend ; But if he will thy friendly checks forego, Thou art, oh ! woe for me, his deadliest foe !