Werner's Readings and Recitations (Google eBook)

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E.S. Werner, 1903 - Readers
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Page 75 - Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are : Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come against him.
Page 71 - Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog...
Page 164 - Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown An' peeked in thru' the winder, An' there sot Huldy all alone, 'Ith no one nigh to hender. A fireplace filled the room's one side With half a cord o' wood in, There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) To bake ye to a puddin'. THE COURTIN'. 291 The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her, An' leetle flames danced all about The chiny on the dresser.
Page 120 - Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs ; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ; The traces, of the smallest spider's web ; The collars, of the moonshine's...
Page 166 - An' on which one he felt the wust He could n't ha' told ye nuther. Says he, "I'd better call agin"; Says she, "Think likely, Mister"; Thet last word pricked him like a pin, An' . . . Wai, he up an
Page 120 - Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers...
Page 148 - ud allus laugh an' grin, An' make fun of ever' one an' all her blood-an'-kin, An' onc't when they was "company," an' ole folks was there, She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care! An' thist as she kicked her heels, an...
Page 120 - O ! then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners...
Page 150 - This is our man," the courier said; " Our luck has led us aright. I will give you a hundred ducats, friend, For the loan of your shirt to-night." The merry blackguard lay back on the grass, And laughed till his face was black; " I would do it, God wot," and he roared with the fun " But I haven'ta shirt to my back.
Page 98 - But, soft! methinks, I scent the morning air; Brief let me be...

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