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Page 78 - Tugs at his oar against the stubborn wave, Straining his rugged veins, snores fast; The stooping scythe-man, that doth barb the field, Thou makest wink sure.
Page 28 - Made only to provoke, not satiate : " And yet even then the thaw of her delight " Flows from lewd heat of apprehension, " Only from strange imagination's rankness, " That forms the adulterer's presence in her soul, " And makes her think she clips the foul knave's
Page 121 - ... as nowa-days, no courtier but has his mistress, no captain but has his cockatrice*, no cuckold but has his horns, and no fool but has his feather...
Page 37 - Phaeton! in body how delicate, in 45 soul how witty, in discourse how pregnant, in life how wary, in favours how judicious, in day how sociable, and in night how — O pleasure unutterable!
Page 58 - Rivels the skin, casts ashes in men's faces, Bedulls the eye, unstrengthens all the blood, Chance to remove me to another world, As sure I once must die, let him succeed.
Page 67 - How fortune dotes on impudence ! I am in private the adopted son of yon good prince. I must be duke. Why, if I must, I must. Most silly lord, name me? O heaven! I see God made honest fools to maintain crafty knaves.
Page 166 - I'll not forsake thee; Runn'st thou ne'er so fast, I'll o'ertake thee : O'er the dales, o'er the downs, Through the green meadows, From the fields, through the towns, To the dim shadows.
Page 107 - Agamemnon, emperor of all the merry Greeks, that tickled all the true Trojans, was a cornuto. Prince Arthur, that cut off twelve kings
Page 66 - Men. You do confirm me ; we are resolute : To-morrow look for change ; rest confident. 'Tis now about the immodest waist of night : The mother of moist dew with pallid light Spreads gloomy shades about the numbed earth. Sleep, sleep, whilst we contrive our mischief's birth.