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Seite 20 - Who hath woe? who hath sorrow? who hath contentions ? who hath babbling ? who hath wounds without cause ? who hath redness of eyes ? they that tarry long at the wine ; they that go to seek mixed wine. Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth its colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright : At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.
Seite 15 - Both these attempts are shown in the following stanza written with ease without e's. A jovial swain may rack his brain. And tax his fancy's might. To quiz in vain, for 'tis most plain, That what I say is right.
Seite 92 - Short life in truth this thing doth try. Wherefore come death, and let me die. Come, gentle death, the ebb of care, The ebb of care, the flood of life; The flood of life, the joyful fare; The joyful fare, the end of strife ; The end of strife, that thing wish I, Wherefore come death, and let me die.
Seite 19 - As for altars and pyramids in poetry, he has outdone all men that way ; for he has made a gridiron and a frying-pan in verse, that, besides the likeness in shape, the very tone and sound of the words did perfectly represent the noise that is made by these utensils, such as the old poet called Sartago loquendi.
Seite 184 - With the mots their ogles throwing, And old Cotton humming his pray; And the fogle-hunters (29) doing, Tol lol, &c. Their morning fake (30) in the prigging lay.
Seite 29 - He was opprefled, and He was afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth : He is brought as a lamb to the flaughter, and as a fheep before her fhearers is dumb, fo He openeth not His mouth.
Seite 37 - Lamb, then Dean of the Arches, shot her through and through, with an arrow borrowed from her own quiver...