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Pagina 76 - But these are all lies ; men have died from time to time and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
Pagina 38 - In good set terms and yet a motley fool. '.Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. ' No, sir,' quoth he, ' Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune : ' And then he drew a dial from his poke, And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, ' It is ten o'clock : Thus we may see...
Pagina 46 - Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious.
Pagina 60 - Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do: and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too.
Pagina 39 - Invest me in my motley ; give me leave To speak my mind, and I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, If they will patiently receive my medicine.
Pagina 30 - Ay, now am I in Arden ; the more fool I : when I was at home, I was in a better place : but travellers must be content.
Pagina 73 - I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation, nor the musician's, which is fantastical, nor the courtier's, which is proud, nor the soldier's, which is ambitious, nor the lawyer's, which is politic, nor the lady's, which is nice, nor the lover's, which is all these : but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness.
Pagina 34 - Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither : Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.
Pagina 24 - 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.