The Ingoldsby legends, or, Mirth and marvels (Google eBook)

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Richard Bentley, 1870 - English wit and humor - 427 pages
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Page 126 - Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday.
Page 223 - twas really absurd. He grew sleek and fat; In addition to that, A fresh crop of feathers came thick as a mat. ' His tail waggled more Even than before; But no longer it wagged with an impudent air, No longer he perched on the Cardinal's chair.
Page 222 - Behold, he is in your power; only spare his life." So Satan went forth from the presence of the Lord, and afflicted Job with loathsome sores from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head.
Page 219 - Jackdaw sat on the Cardinal's chair ! "- Bishop and abbot and prior were there ; Many a monk, and many a friar, Many a knight, and many a squire, "With a great many more of lesser degree, In sooth, a goodly company ; And they served the Lord Primate on bended knee.
Page 61 - ' serious call, " He never drinks ale, wine, or spirits, at all, And they say he is going to Exeter Hall To make a grand speech, And to preach, and to teach People that " they can't brew their malt liquor too small...
Page 220 - And he peered in the face Of his Lordship's Grace, With a satisfied look, as if he would say, " WE TWO are the greatest folks here to-day...
Page 397 - MY Lord Tomnoddy got up one day ; It was half after two, He had nothing to do, So his Lordship rang for his cabriolet. Tiger Tim Was clean of limb, His boots were...
Page 372 - She should have died hereafter ; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death.
Page 223 - His pinions drooped he could hardly stand, His head was as bald as the palm of your hand; His eye so dim, So wasted each limb, That, heedless of grammar, they all cried, "THAT'S HIM! That's the scamp that has done this scandalous thing! That's the thief that has got my Lord Cardinal's Ring!
Page 222 - The monks and the friars they searched till dawn; When the sacristan saw, On crumpled claw Come limping a poor little lame Jackdaw. No longer gay, As on yesterday; His feathers all seemed to be turned the wrong way; His pinions drooped he could hardly stand, His head was...

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