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Sida 376 - Heaven doth with us as we with torches do ; Not light them for themselves : for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not...
Sida 236 - Thro' fire, air, water, earth, nay were they all Shuffled again to chaos ; but there's none. Thy skill, Romont, consists in camps, not courts. Farewell, uncivil man ! let's meet no more : Here our long web of friendship I untwist. Shall I go whine, walk pale, and lock my wife For nothing from her birth's free liberty, That open'd mine to me ? Yes ; if I do, The name of cuckold then dog me with scorn : I am a Frenchman, no Italian born.
Sida 119 - I employ'd ; and when I came To see you, it was with that reverence As I beheld the altars of the gods : And love, that came along with me, was taught To leave his arrows and his torch behind, Quench'd in my fear to give offence.
Sida 251 - I was bold enough to be a strumpet, I dare not yet live one. Let those famed matrons, That are canonized worthy of our sex, Transcend me in their sanctity of life ; I yet will equal them in dying nobly, Ambitious of no honour after life, But that, when I am dead, you will forgive me.
Sida 239 - For, even as the index tells us the contents of stories, and directs to the particular chapters, even so does the outward habit and superficial order of garments (in man or woman) give us a taste of the spirit, and demonstratively point (as it were a manual note from the margin) all the internal quality and habiliment of the soul...
Sida 204 - Not only hath eat up ungratefully All means of thee, her son, but last thyself, Leaving thy heir so bare and indigent, He cannot raise thee a poor monument, Such as a flatterer or an usurer hath, Thy worth in every honest breast builds one, Making their friendly hearts thy funeral stone.
Sida 129 - I have no skill. Here's another, Observe but what a cozening look he has ! — Hold up thy head, man ; if, for drawing gallants Into mortgages for commodities, cheating heirs With your new counterfeit gold thread, and gumm'd velvets, He does not transcend all that went before him, Call in his patent : pass the rest ; they'll all make Sufficient beccos, and, with their brow-antlers, Bear up the cap of maintenance.
Sida 209 - No autumn nor no age ever approach This heavenly piece; which Nature having wrought, She lost her needle, and did then despair Ever to work so lively and so fair ! Lilad.
Sida 128 - twas odds of strength in tyrants, That pluck'd the first link from the golden chain With which that THING OF THINGS* bound in the world. Why then, since we are taught, by their examples, To love our liberty, if not command, Should the strong serve the weak, the fair, deform'd ones ? Or such as know the cause of things, pay tribute To ignorant fools...