Notes and Queries (Google eBook)

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Oxford University Press, 1901 - Electronic journals
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Page 235 - To be no more. Sad cure! for who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish rather, swallowed up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated Night, Devoid of sense and motion?
Page 207 - I am as sorry as if the original fault had been my fault, because myself have seen his demeanour no less civil than he excellent in the quality he professes: besides, divers of worship have reported his uprightness of dealing which argues his honesty, and his facetious grace in writing, that approves his art.
Page 321 - So may the outward shows be least themselves : The world is still deceived with ornament. In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, But, being season'd with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil...
Page 480 - In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets...
Page 89 - IT is the first mild day of March : Each minute sweeter than before, The redbreast sings from the tall larch That stands beside our door. There is a blessing in the air, Which seems a sense of joy to yield To the bare trees, and mountains bare And grass in the green field.
Page 79 - All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence ? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, Had been incorporate. So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted ; But yet a union in partition, Two lovely berries moulded on one stem ; So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart...
Page 259 - ... against the form of the statute in such case made and provided, and against the peace of our Lord the King, his crown and dignity.
Page 181 - O God ! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point...
Page 208 - We do it wrong, being so majestical, To offer it the show of violence ; For it is, as the air, invulnerable, And our vain blows malicious mockery.
Page 442 - Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else my project fails, Which was to please: Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant ; And my ending is despair, Unless I be reliev'd by prayer ; Which pierces so, that it assaults Mercy itself, and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.

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