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Page 76 - Or the nard in the fire? Or have tasted the bag of the bee? O so white! O so soft! O so sweet is she!
Page 76 - Do but look on her eyes, they do light All that Love's world compriseth. Do but look on her hair, it is bright As Love's star when it riseth. Do but mark, her forehead's smoother Than words that soothe her.
Page 28 - I have been in the Indies, where this herb grows, where neither myself, nor a dozen gentlemen more of my knowledge, have received the taste of any other nutriment in the world, for the space of one and twenty weeks, but the fume of this simple only : therefore, it cannot be, but 'tis most divine.
Page 25 - This is my friend, Abel, an honest fellow ; He lets me have good tobacco, and he does not Sophisticate it with sack-lees or oil, Nor washes it in muscadel and grains, Nor buries it in gravel, under ground, Wrapp'd up in greasy leather...
Page 28 - I marvel what pleasure or felicity they have in taking this roguish tobacco! it's good for nothing but to choke a man and fill him full of smoke and embers: there were four died out of one house, last week, with taking of it, and two more the bell went for, yesternight; one of them (they say) will ne'er 'scape it: he voided a bushel of soot yesterday, upward and downward. By the stocks, an...
Page 44 - Oh, it's your only fine humour, sir; your true melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit, sir. I am melancholy myself, divers times, sir, and then do I no more but take pen and paper, presently, and overflow you half a score, or a dozen of sonnets at a sitting.
Page 30 - Scarce cold in his one and twenty, that does govern His sister here; and is a man himself Of some three thousand a year, and is come up To learn to quarrel, and to live by his wits, And will go down again, and die in the country.
Page 22 - Ben Jonson was at a tavern, and in comes bishop Corbet (but not so then) into the next, room. Ben Jonson calls for a quart of raw wine, and gives it to the tapster ; Sirrah !' says he, ' carry this to the gentleman in the next chamber, and tell him I sacrifice my service to him.
Page 31 - ... your soldados and foolados to follow you up and down the city ; and here they must come to domineer and swagger. Sirrah, you ballad-singer, and slops your fellow there, get you out, get you home ; or by this steel, I'll cut off your ears, and that presently. Wei. — 'Slight, stay, let's see what he dare do ; cut off his ears ! cut a whetstone. You are an ass, do you see ; touch any man here, and by this hand I'll run my rapier to the hilts in you.