THE UNIVERSAL ANTHOLOGY

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Seite 242 - If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked ! if to be old and merry be a sin, then many an old host that I know is damned : if to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord ; banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins : but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, being, as he is, old Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's company, banish not him thy Harry's company : banish...
Seite 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 wears.
Seite 51 - These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die ! like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness, And in the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore love moderately : long love doth so ; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
Seite 236 - You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees youi back : Call you that backing of your friends ? A plague upon such backing ! give me them that will face me.
Seite 245 - AGINCOURT FAIR stood the wind for France, When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry; But putting to the main, At Kaux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train, Landed King Harry.
Seite 46 - The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb; And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here.
Seite 52 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale ; look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Seite 46 - What's Montague ? It is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name ! What's in a name ? That which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet ; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, Retain that dear perfection which he owes, Without that title.
Seite 250 - I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me. The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib: but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider.
Seite 226 - The hunting of that day. The stout Earl of Northumberland A vow to God did make, His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summer days to take; The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chase To kill and bear away.

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