Stratford-on-Avon from the earliest times to the death of Shakespeare

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J.B. Lippincott company, 1907 - Stratford-upon-Avon (England) - 327 pages
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Page 223 - My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew'd, so sanded ; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; Crook-knee'd, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls ; Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly : Judge when you hear.
Page 295 - Ten in the hundred lies here engraved, "Tis a hundred to ten his soul is not saved ! If any man ask, ' Who lies in this tomb ?' ' Oh, oh !' quoth the devil, ' 'tis my John a Combe I' But the sharpness of the satire is said to have stung the man so severely, that he never forgave it.
Page 148 - tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners ; so that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills.
Page 244 - He was much given to all unluckiness, in stealing venison and rabbits, particularly from Sir Lucy, who had him oft whipped, and sometimes imprisoned, and at last made him fly his native country, to his great advancement. But his revenge was so great, that he is his Justice Clodpate, and calls him a great man, and that, in allusion to his name, bore three louses rampant for his arms.
Page 228 - The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, And greedily devour the treacherous bait...
Page 172 - Alack, alack! is it not like that I, So early waking, what with loathsome smells, And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth, That living mortals, hearing them, run mad: O!
Page 197 - Their tender bodies both night and day Are whipped and scourged, and beat like a stone, That from top to toe the skin is away;' and a story is repeated of how a scholar was tormented to death by
Page 244 - If lowsie is Lucy, as some volke miscalle it, Then Lucy is lowsie whatever befall it : He thinks himself greate, Yet an asse in his state We allowe by his ears but with asses to mate. If Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscalle it, Sing lowsie Lucy, whatever befall it.
Page 315 - Witty above her sexe, but that's not all, Wise to Salvation was good Mistress Hall, Something of Shakespere was in that, but this Wholy of him with whom she's now in blisse. Then, passenger, ha'st ne're a teare, To weepe with her that wept with all? That wept, yet set herselfe to chere Them up with comforts cordiall. Her Love shall live, her mercy spread, When thou hast ne're a teare to shed.
Page 304 - Jesus' sake, forbeare To dig the dust enclosed here: Blessed be the man that spares these stones, And curst be he that moves my bones.

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