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Alexander Barclay Anaxagoras attainment bard boast brain breast Canst thou certainly CHORUS TO FOOLS class of fools common sense conceive Crowds flock dame death decency disgrace display doth ev'ry exclaim eyes fam'd fame famous fear feel fidatevi folly FOOLISH fortune frequently give gold hath head hear honour human ideot instance John Perrot justly King l'envoy labour lady lash lines live Lord mind nature naught ne'er never noble o'er Octavo pain passion pleasure poet POET'S CHORUS Praise of Folly present propensity prove quod Rara Avis reader reason respect score SECTION senseless Shakspeare shame Ship of Fools slave sloth Solomon speaking species stanza Stultifera Navis thee thine thyself tion tongue trim the boat truth usury vanity vice vile Voltaire votaries whip wisdom wise words writer youth
Page 12 - The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness.
Page 241 - Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty: For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities.
Page 162 - ... we make guilty of our disasters, the sun, the moon, and the stars : as if we were villains by necessity; fools, by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers, by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on : An admirable evasion of whore-master man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of a star!
Page 214 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? • no. Is it insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I'll none of it: honour is a mere scutcheon: — and so ends my catechism.
Page 162 - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, — often the surfeit of our own behaviour, — we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars...
Page 194 - Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind 'away: O, that that earth which kept the world in awe Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw!— But soft!
Page 169 - tis a common proof, That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; But when he once attains the upmost round, He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend.
Page 192 - To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus Comes at the last and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!