As Yov Like it: A Pleasant Comedy

Գրքի շապիկի երեսը
published, 1899 - 130 էջ

From inside the book

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Common terms and phrases

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Էջ 29 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons...
Էջ 51 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players : They have their exits and their entrances ; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages.
Էջ 31 - Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood : To the which place a poor...
Էջ 30 - 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.' Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good...
Էջ 95 - But these are all lies ; men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
Էջ 50 - I thought that all things had been savage here ; And therefore put I on the countenance Of stern commandment : But whate'er you are, That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time...
Էջ 46 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale.
Էջ 52 - With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon.
Էջ 53 - Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude.
Էջ 30 - Come, shall we go and kill us venison ? And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools, Being native burghers of this desert city ', Should, in their own confines, with forked heads ' Have their round haunches gor'd.

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