Geraldine Maynard; or, The abduction, Volume 1

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Page 58 - I' the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things ; for no kind of traffic Would I admit ; no name of magistrate ; Letters should not be known : riches, poverty, And use of service, none ; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none : No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil : No occupation ; all men idle, all ; And women too ; but innocent and pure : No sovereignty : — Seb.
Page 58 - All things in common nature should produce, Without sweat or endeavour : treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have ; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.
Page 128 - O ! how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours. There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
Page 142 - What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me; no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
Page 114 - When icicles hang by the wall And Dick the shepherd blows his nail And Tom bears logs into the hall And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Page 143 - gainst self-slaughter ! O God ! O God ! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world ! Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in nature, Possess it merely.
Page 72 - I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o...
Page 113 - But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill...
Page 276 - Oh, that a man should put an enemy into his mouth to steal away his brains ! ' " " You may well call it an enemy, Chaplain.
Page 64 - I'll never follow thy palled fortunes more. Who seeks, and will not take, when once 'tis offered, Shall never find it more.

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