And the creature run from the cur? There thou mightst behold the great image of authority: a dog’s obeyed in office.Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand.Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back.Thou hotly lust’st to use her in that kindFor which thou whipp’st her. The usurer hangs the cozener.Through tattered clothes great vices do appear;Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks.Arm it in rags, a pigmy’s straw does pierce it.None does offend—none, I say, none. I’ll able 'em.Take that of me, my friend, who have the powerTo seal th' accuser’s lips. Get thee glass eyes,And like a scurvy politician seemTo see the things thou dost not.
O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars
Are in the poorest thing superfluous.
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life's as cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need.
This is the excellent foppery of the world that when we are sick in fortune—often the surfeit of our own behavior—we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars, as if we were villains by necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion, knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance, drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence, and all that we are evil in by a divine thrusting-on. An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of a star!
That such a slave as this should wear a sword,Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwainWhich are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every passionThat in the natures of their lords rebel,Being oil to the fire, snow to the colder moods,Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaksWith every gale and vary of their mastersKnowing naught, like dogs, but following.
EDGARA serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curledmy hair; wore gloves in my cap; served the lust ofmy mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness withher; swore as many oaths as I spake words, andbroke them in the sweet face of heaven: one thatslept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it:wine loved I deeply, dice dearly: and in womanout-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light ofear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth,wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey.Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling ofsilks betray thy poor heart to woman: keep thy footout of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy penfrom lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend.Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind:Says suum, mun, ha, no, nonny.Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let him trot by.Storm still.
كان صبرها وحزنها يتصارعان على أيهما يظهرها في أبدع مظهر.كأنك ترى الشمس ساطعة والسماء تمطر في نفس اللحظة.هكذا كانت ابتسامتها ودموعها.وإن كانت أبهى منظرا.تلك الأبتسامات الضئيلة السعيدة التي رفت على شفتيها بدت وكأنها لا تعلم أي الضيوف حلت في عينيها ثم رحلت عنهما كما لو كان الألم يليق بغيرها بهذا الشكل لصار شيئا نادرا تعشقه الناس.