Bentley's Miscellany, Volumen3

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Charles Dickens, William Harrison Ainsworth, Albert Smith
Richard Bentley, 1838
 

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Página 476 - Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
Página 471 - tis true : 'tis true 'tis pity, And pity 'tis 'tis true : a foolish figure ; But farewell it, for I will use no art. Mad let us grant him, then ; and now remains, That we find out the cause of this effect ; Or rather say, the cause of this defect, For this effect defective comes by cause : Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.
Página 474 - Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell ! I took thee for thy better. Take thy fortune. Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger.
Página 98 - Satan in divers shapes in his lonely perambulations, yet daylight put an end to all these evils: and he would have passed a pleasant life of it, in despite of the Devil and all his works, if his path had not been crossed by a being that causes more perplexity to mortal man than ghosts, goblins, and the whole race of witches put together; and that was — a woman.
Página 240 - Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars! Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer, Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god, That solder'st close impossibilities, And mak'st them kiss! that speak'st with every tongue, To every...
Página 140 - MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. MY heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here ; My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer ; Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Página 470 - My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time. Therefore, — since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, — I will be brief...
Página 239 - Come not to me again : but say to Athens, Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood ; Who once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover : thither come, And let my grave-stone be your oracle.
Página 6 - ... the reeking bodies of the cattle, and mingling with the fog, which seemed to rest upon the chimney-tops, hung heavily above. All the pens in the centre of the large area: and as many temporary...
Página 319 - The younger lady was in the lovely bloom and springtime of womanhood; at that age, when, if ever angels be for God's good purposes enthroned in mortal forms, they may be, without impiety, supposed to abide in such as hers.

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