Maid Marian and Crotchet Castle

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Macmillan, 1895 - 321 páginas
This version of the Robin Hood legend satirizes English politicians and reformers.

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Página xvi - Le monde est plein de fous, et qui n'en veut pas voir Doit se tenir tout seul, et casser son miroir.
Página 109 - Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found The warmest welcome at an inn.
Página 179 - DR. FOLLIOTT. Education! Well, sir, I have no doubt schools for all are just as fit for the species salmo salar as for the genus homo. But you must allow, that the specimen before us has finished his education in a manner that does honour to his college. However, I doubt that the salmo salar is only one species, that is to say, precisely alike in all localities. I hold that every river has its own breed, with essential differences; in flavour especially. And as for the human mind, I deny that it...
Página 151 - The bishop answered : Tace, daemon : qui est deus Sabbaot, est ille meus. Peace, fiend ; the power I own Is Sabbaoth's Lord alone. It must be confessed, the devil was easily posed in the twelfth century. He was a sturdier disputant in the sixteenth. Did not the devil appear to Martin Luther in Germany for certain ? when " the heroic student,
Página 206 - ... better than dine ? We'll dine and drink, and say if we think That anything better can be ; And when we have dined, wish all mankind May dine as well as we. And though a good wish will fill no dish, And brim no cup with sack, Yet thoughts will spring, as the glasses ring, To illume our studious track.
Página 152 - I am out of all patience with this march of mind. Here has my house been nearly burned down, by my cook taking it into her head to study hydrostatics, in a sixpenny tract, published by the Steam Intellect Society, and written by a learned friend who is for doing all the world's business as well as his own, and is equally well qualified to handle every branch of human knowledge.
Página 32 - Though I be now a grey, grey friar. Yet I was once a hale young knight: The cry of my dogs was the only choir In which my spirit did take delight. Little I recked of matin bell, But drowned its toll with my clanging horn: And the only beads I loved to tell Were the beads of dew on the spangled thorn.
Página 22 - Had either been less sylvan, the other might have been more saintly ; but they will now never hear matins but those of the lark, nor reverence vaulted aisle but that of the greenwood canopy. They are twin plants of the forest, and are identified with its growth. " For the slender beech and the sapling oak, That grow by the shadowy rill, You may cut down both at a single stroke, You may cut down which you will. But this you must know, that as long as they grow, Whatever change may be, You never can...
Página 286 - He found it at length, and he made its first proof By turning to gold all the lead of his roof : Then he bought some magnanimous heroes, all fire, Who lived but to smite and be smitten for hire. With these, on the plains like a torrent he broke ; He...
Página 144 - Should once the world resolve to abolish All that's ridiculous and foolish, It would have nothing left to do, To apply in jest or earnest to.

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