Publications, Volume 44

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Page iv - The COUNCIL of the CAMDEN SOCIETY desire it to be understood that they are not answerable for any opinions or observations that may appear in the Society's publications ; the Editors of the several Works being alone responsible for the same.
Page 124 - Twas but a thankless office, and perhaps As much as is my service, or my life is worth. All this I know, but this, and more, More by a thousand dangers, could not hire me To smother such a heinous wrong from you. I saw, and I have said.
Page 162 - m now bound, I was so impudent to wish you here ; And once more beg your pardon. O good man, And father to my children, pardon me. Pardon, oh, pardon me: my fault so heinous is, That if you in this world forgive it not, Heaven will not clear it in the world to come.
Page 157 - Go, break this lute upon my coach's wheel, As the last music that I e'er shall make ; Not as my husband's gift, but my farewell To all earth's joy ; and so your master tell.
Page 119 - You have a pretty house here, and a garden, And goodly ground about it. Since it lies So near a lordship that I lately bought, I would fain buy it of you. I will give you Sir C. Oh ! pardon me : this house successively Hath long'd to me and my progenitors Three hundred year.
Page 117 - twas for you. Say I incur The general name of villain through the world, Of traitor to my friend ; I care not, I. Beggary, shame, death, scandal, and reproach, For you I'll hazard all : why, what care I ? For you I'll love, and in your love I'll die.
Page 157 - You have beheld the wofull'st wretch on earth — A woman made of tears : would you had words To express but what you see ! My inward grief No tongue can utter ; yet unto your power You may describe my sorrow, and disclose To thy sad master my abundant woes.
Page 150 - I only this one way, With that rich jewel you my debts may pay. In speaking this my cold heart shakes with shame ; Nor do I woo you in a brother's name, But in a stranger's.
Page 164 - Came to a tavern by, and called for wine: The drawer brought it, smiling like a cherry, And told them it was pleasant, neat, and fine. ''Taste it,'' quoth one. He did so. 'Fie!' quoth he, ' This wine was good; now't runs too near the lee.
Page 100 - Finger their frets within, and the mad lads And country lasses, every mother's child, With nosegays and bride-laces in their hats, Dance all their country measures, rounds, and jigs, What shall we do?

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