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Good Boy, to bed; my busines is of waight And must not be deferrd: good night, sweet Boy. Boy. My father was not wont to be so kind To hug me and to kisse me soe. Leid. Why do'st thou weep? Boy. I cannot tell, but sure a tendernes, Whether it be with your kind words unto me Or what it is, has crept about my hart, Sir, And such a sodaine heavynes withall, too. Leid.
Don't marry till you're thirty; keep away from the public-house; work, study steadily and intelligently; and by the time you are thirty you will have a thousand pounds laid by, and be fit to take a manager's place." "Do'st mean that, sir?" the boy asked quickly. "I do, Jack. My case is something like it. My father was a village schoolmaster.
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be! Thy standing nor they name will help at all; When fruitful trees are spared, thou must fall. The axe is laid unto thy roots, O tree! Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be. Thou simple bird, what makes thou here to play? Look, there's the fowler, pr'ythee come away. Do'st not behold the net?
"Miss Phoebe!" ejaculated Jesse, submitting himself to the old man's grasp, but struggling to retain the leveret; "Miss Phoebe!" "Miss Phoebe, indeed!" responded Daniel; "she saved thee once, my lad, but thy time's come now. What do'st thee want of the leveret, mon? Do'st not thee know that 'tis part of the evidence against thee? Well, he may carry that whilst I carry the snare.
Beshrew ye, Gentlemen, you have made me tardy: Open the dore, 1 Gu. I beseech your Grace to pardon me. Or. Do'st thou know who I am? 1 Gu. Yes, Sir, and honour you. Or. Why do'st thou keep the dore fast then? Will. Thou fellow, Thou sawcy fellow, and you that stand by gaping! 2 Gu.
The Prince of Orange now Will find what frends I have, and of what reckning; And when he seekes this life, he must make passage Through thousands more and those he little dreames of. Son. I wonder how he got that speritt, Sir, to dye soe? Bar. He was a weak man, indeed, but he has redeemd it: There be some other I could wish of his mind. Do'st thinck they dare doe any thing now. Son.
There will be a host of our friends here soon to deliver us, so thou had'st best beware of what thou do'st." Simon scowled darkly, but Manners's threat had its effect, and he restrained his temper. "I care not," he replied, "so long as Sir Henry be here. I shall but obey my instructions nor more nor less." "And what are they?" "You shall find that out for yourself in good time."
Few men would envy the character which Caesar gives of Cassius: He loves no play, As thou do'st, Anthony: he hears no music: Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort, As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit That could be mov'd to smile at any thing.
'Naw daywt, says Dick, 'if it ain't somefin' worse. 'What do'st a' mean, bor? says I. 'Well, says Dick slowly like, 'it might be the sperrit from th' pit, for 'twas in no mortal man to holler out like that cry we just heered. Wornt those yower words, bor?" Mr. Duney, thus appealed to, nodded portentously, as though to indicate that his words were well justified.
Therefore dear Ned, at my advice forbear, Such loud complaints 'gainst critics to prefer, Since thou art turn'd an arrant libeller: Thou sett'st thy name to what thyself do'st write; Did ever libel yet so sharply bite? Mrs. A celebrated poetess of the last age, was a gentlewoman by birth, being descended, as her life-writer says, from a good family in the city of Canterbury.
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