The Library of Wit and Humor, Prose and Poetry: Selected from the Literature of All Times and Nations, 1. kötet

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Ainsworth Rand Spofford, Rufus Edmonds Shapley
Gebbie Publishing Company, Limited, 1884

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238. oldal - 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.
291. oldal - 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...
230. oldal - 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...
240. oldal - 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...
230. oldal - 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...
249. oldal - 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.
243. oldal - 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.
371. oldal - 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.
219. oldal - 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!
323. oldal - 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.

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