Edith of Glammis, by Cuthbert Clutterbuck of Kennaquhair (Google eBook)

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Page 6 - I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?
Page 80 - A man also or a woman that hath a familiar spirit, or that is a wizard, shall surely be put to death: they shall stone them with stones: their blood ¡hall be upon them.
Page 237 - Away, away, my steed and I, Upon the pinions of the wind, All human dwellings left behind ; We sped like meteors through the sky...
Page 19 - Now stench and blackness yawn like death : oh plead With famine or wind-walking pestilence, Blind lightning or the deaf sea ; — not with man ! Cruel, cold, formal man ; righteous in words, In deeds a Cain ! No, mother, we must die : Since such is the reward of innocent lives, Such the alleviation of worst wrongs.
Page 254 - STATELY stept he east the wa', And stately stept he west, Full seventy years he now had seen, Wi' scarce seven years of rest. He liv'd when Britons breach of faith Wrought Scotland mickle wae : And ay his sword tauld to their cost, He was their deadlye fae.
Page 282 - While the tinker did dine, he had plenty of wine, Rich canary, with sherry and tent superfine. Like a right honest soul, faith, he took off his bowl, Till at last he began for to tumble and roul From his chair to the floor, where he sleeping did snore, Being seven times drunker than ever before.
Page 247 - Gallant captain show some pity To a lady in distress ; Leave me not within this city, For to die in heaviness. Thou hast set this present day my body free, But my heart in prison still remains with thee.' ' How shouldst thou, fair lady, love me, Whom thou know'st thy country's foe? Thy fair words make me suspect thee: Serpents lie where flowers grow.
Page 178 - And down she suck'd with her the whirling wave, Like one who grapples with his enemy, And strives to strangle him before he die.
Page 283 - From his chair to the floor, where he sleeping did snore, Being seven times drunker than ever before. Then the duke did ordain, they should strip him amain, And restore him his old leather garments again...
Page 273 - O wow ! quo' he, were I as free As first when I saw this countrie, How blythe and merry wad I be ! And I wad never think lang.

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