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Strona 161 - My liege, and madam, — to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief...
Strona 7 - JOY and Temperance and Repose Slam the door on the doctor's nose. SIN. Man-like is it to fall into sin, Fiend-like is it to dwell therein, Christ-like is it for sin to grieve, God-like is it all sin to leave.
Strona 33 - O now, for ever, Farewell the tranquil mind ! Farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war...
Strona 161 - Madam, I swear, I use no art at all. That he is mad, 'tis true : 'tis true, 'tis pity ; And pity 'tis, 'tis true : a foolish figure ; But farewell it, for I will use no art. Mad let us grant him then : and now remains, That we find out the cause of this effect ; Or, rather say, the cause of this defect ; For this effect, defective, comes by cause : Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.
Strona 197 - If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work...
Strona 164 - These high, wild hills, and rough, uneven ways, Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome ; And yet your fitir discourse hath been as sugar, Making the hard way sweet and delectable.
Strona 60 - Recherches et matériaux pour servir à une histoire de la domination française aux XIIIe, XIVe et XVe siècles dans les provinces démembrées de l'empire grec à la suite de la quatrième croisade, 2 voll., Paris 1840.
Strona 81 - We must not make a scare-crow of the law, ' Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror.
Strona 33 - The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! And O, you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! lago.