FAMILIAR QUOTATIONS1919 |
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Page 20
... head . - RABELAIS : bk . iii . ch . xxxi . 7 Dives and Pauper , 1493. GASCOIGNE : Poesies , 1575. POPE : Horace , book i . Ep . vii . line 24. FIELDING : Covent Garden Tragedy , act v . sc . 1 . BICKERSTAFF : Love in a Village , act iii ...
... head . - RABELAIS : bk . iii . ch . xxxi . 7 Dives and Pauper , 1493. GASCOIGNE : Poesies , 1575. POPE : Horace , book i . Ep . vii . line 24. FIELDING : Covent Garden Tragedy , act v . sc . 1 . BICKERSTAFF : Love in a Village , act iii ...
Page 51
... head to the sole of his foot , 1 he is all mirth . Sc . 2 . Every one can master a grief but he that has it . Ibid . Are you good men and true ? Sc . 3 . To be a well - favoured man is the gift of fortune ; but to write and read comes ...
... head to the sole of his foot , 1 he is all mirth . Sc . 2 . Every one can master a grief but he that has it . Ibid . Are you good men and true ? Sc . 3 . To be a well - favoured man is the gift of fortune ; but to write and read comes ...
Page 55
... head . Ibid . Ibid . Act iv . Sc . 2 . He hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book ; he hath not eat paper , as it were ; he hath not drunk ink . Ibid . Many can brook the weather that love not the wind . Ibid . You two ...
... head . Ibid . Ibid . Act iv . Sc . 2 . He hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book ; he hath not eat paper , as it were ; he hath not drunk ink . Ibid . Many can brook the weather that love not the wind . Ibid . You two ...
Page 89
... head that wears a crown . Act ii . Sc . 1 . Ibid . Ibid . Death , as the Psalmist saith , is certain to all ; all shall die . How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair ? Sc . 2 . Accommodated ; that is , when a man is , as they say ...
... head that wears a crown . Act ii . Sc . 1 . Ibid . Ibid . Death , as the Psalmist saith , is certain to all ; all shall die . How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair ? Sc . 2 . Accommodated ; that is , when a man is , as they say ...
Page 97
... head ! 2 Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast , Ready with every nod to tumbled wn . Even in the afternoon of her best days . Thou troublest me ; I am not in the vein . Their lips were four red roses on a stalk . The sons of Edward ...
... head ! 2 Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast , Ready with every nod to tumbled wn . Even in the afternoon of her best days . Thou troublest me ; I am not in the vein . Their lips were four red roses on a stalk . The sons of Edward ...
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Common terms and phrases
Anatomy of Melancholy angels BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER beauty better blessed Book breath Cæsar Canto Chap Chaucer Childe Harold's Pilgrimage dark dead dear death Devil DIOGENES LAERTIUS divine Don Quixote doth dream Dryden earth Epistle eternal eyes fair fear flower fool Frag give glory grave hand happy hath heart heaven HENRY Heywood honour hope Hudibras Ibia Ibid Ibid Ibid JOHN King Lady land light Line live look Lord lost man's Maxim mind morning Nature ne'er never night numbers o'er Omar Khayyám pleasure PLUTARCH poet POPE proverb PUBLIUS SYRUS rose Sect Shakespeare silent sing sleep smile Song Sonnet sorrow soul Speech Stanza stars sweet tale tears thee Themistocles There's thine things THOMAS THOMAS HEYWOOD thought true truth virtue WILLIAM wind wise woman words young youth
Popular passages
Page 110 - Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus ; and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Page 676 - Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. Ring out old shapes of foul disease; Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Page 79 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Page 467 - The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.— That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures.
Page 137 - Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently ; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness.
Page 233 - Now came still Evening on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad; Silence accompanied; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale ; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was...
Page 157 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water ; the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them, the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
Page 131 - But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Page 251 - The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
Page 523 - OFT in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me; The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken!