Shropshire Word-book: A Glossary of Archaic and Provincial Words, Etc., Used in the County

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Trübner & Company, 1879 - 524 Seiten

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Seite 511 - Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious.
Seite 390 - There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook.
Seite 308 - Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane root That takes the reason prisoner?
Seite 7 - Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school : and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used, and, contrary to the king, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill.
Seite 475 - tis a lost fear; Man but a rush against Othello's breast, And he retires; — Where should Othello go? — Now, how dost thou look now ? O ill-starr'd wench ! Pale as thy smock ! when we shall meet at compt, This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it.
Seite 75 - Wi' him that night. The auld guidwife's weel-hoordet nits Are round an' round divided, An' monie lads' an' lasses' fates Are there that night decided : Some kindle, couthie, side by side, An' burn thegither trimly; Some start awa, wi' saucy pride, An' jump out-owre the chimlie Fu
Seite 243 - When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, Do paint the meadows with delight...
Seite 142 - Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine ; And ilka bird sang o' its luve, And fondly sae did I o' mine. Wi' lightsome heart I pu'da rose, Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree ; And my fause luver stole my rose, But ah ! he left the thorn wi
Seite 249 - You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse : The red plague rid you, For learning me your language ! Pro.
Seite 511 - It is naught, it is naught, saith the buyer: but when he is gone his way, then he boasteth.

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