QuŔ en diuen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya
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PÓgina 149 - Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon...
PÓgina 49 - Hath not a Jew eyes ? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions ? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is ? if you prick us, do we not bleed ? if you tickle us, do we not laugh ? if you poison us, do we not die ? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge ? if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian,...
PÓgina 95 - The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attended ; and I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren.
PÓgina 444 - Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband: And, when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sour, And not obedient to his honest will, What is she but a foul contending rebel, And graceless traitor to her loving lord ? — I am ashamed that women are so simple To offer war where they should kneel for peace ; Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway, When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.
PÓgina 129 - Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference ; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — This is no flattery : these are counsellors, That feelingly persuade me what I am.
PÓgina 143 - twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour, we rot and rot, And thereby hangs a tale.
PÓgina 37 - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
PÓgina 11 - If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching.