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Side 160 - Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy For you to laugh and leap and say you are merry, Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time : Some that will evermore peep through their eyes And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper, And other of such vinegar aspect That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
Side 331 - The Bank undertakes for its Customers, free of charge, the custody of Deeds, Writings, and other Securities and Valuables ; the collection of Bills of Exchange, Dividends, and Coupons: and the purchase and sale of Stocks, Shares, and Annuities. Letters of Credit and Circular Notes issued. A Pamphlet, with full particulars, on application.
Side 33 - TELL me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Side 80 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumour of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more.
Side 80 - Merciful heaven! What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.
Side 80 - MINE be a cot beside the hill, A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear ; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall, shall linger near. The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch Shall twitter from her clay-built nest ; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal, a welcome guest...
Side 223 - royal bird' ? Gone down, it seems, to Scotland to be fiddled Unto by Sawney's violin, we have heard : 'Caw me, caw thee' — for six months hath been hatching This scene of royal itch and loyal scratching.
Side 41 - Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: But a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands ; And let her own works praise her in the gates.
Side 50 - The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted.