The Library of Wit and Humor, Prose and Poetry: Selected from the Literature of All Times and Nations, Том 1Ainsworth Rand Spofford, Rufus Edmonds Shapley Gebbie Publishing Company, Limited, 1884 |
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art thou Bard Bardolph Barny better blessed Blossom Brick Boss captain Caudle Clonmell cried Davy dear devil Doll door doth Eastcheap Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face father fellah fellow gentleman ghost give hand hath head hear heard heart heaven honor humor Jack Jack Small king knave knew Lady laugh look lord Margate marry Master Brook merry Michael Mulhooly Mistress Ford morning never night party Pist Pistol Poins political poor pounds pray Prince rogue Rouseville sack Saint Peter says his Riv'rence says the Pope Seaforth Shal Shallow Shylock Sir John Falstaff speak sure sweet talk tell thaid thee there's thing thou art thought tion told turned twas vewy Ward what's wife woman word Worship young Zounds
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Страница 238 - I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north ; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife. — " Fie upon this quiet life! I want work.
Страница 291 - A' made a finer end and went away an it had been any christom child ; a' parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o' the tide : for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his fingers...
Страница 230 - So when this loose behaviour I throw off, And pay the debt I never promised, By how much better than my word I am, By so much shall I falsify men's hopes...
Страница 240 - Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied : for though: the camomile, the more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it...
Страница 230 - I'll sup. Farewell. Poins. Farewell, my lord. {Exit POINS. P. Hen. I know you all, and will a while uphold The unyok'd humour of your idleness : Yet herein will I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world...
Страница 249 - Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt' goblet, sitting in my Dolphin chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in Whitsun week, when the prince broke thy head for liking his father to a singing-man of Windsor ; thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry me, and make me my lady thy wife.
Страница 243 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? No. Doth he hear it ? No. Is it insensible then ? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it : — therefore I'll none of it : Honour is a mere scutcheon/ and so ends my catechism.
Страница 371 - It is indeed much easier to describe what is not humour, than what is ; and very difficult to define it otherwise than as Cowley has done wit, by negatives. Were I to give my own notions of it, I would deliver them after Plato's manner, in a kind of allegory, and by supposing Humour to be a person, deduce to him all his qualifications, according to the following genealogy.
Страница 219 - The ghosts fled, gibbering, for their own dominions — (For 'tis not yet decided where they dwell, And I leave every man to his opinions) ; Michael took refuge in his trump — but, lo! His teeth were set on edge, he could not blow!
Страница 323 - that same is the way You've thrated my heart for this many a day; And 'tis plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure, For 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More. "Indeed, then," says Kathleen, "don't think of the like, For I half gave a promise to soothering Mike; The ground that I walk on he loves, I'll be bound " "Faith," says Rory, "I'd rather love you than the ground.