"Is't" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... shrill heart-bursten yell The white horse stumbled, plunged, and fell, And loud a summoning voice arose, 'Is't White-Horse Death that rides frae Hell, Or ...
— Reviews • Oscar Wilde
... Bird so sings, yet so does wail? O 'tis the ravished Nightingale. Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu, she cries, And still her woes at Midnight rise. Brave prick song! who is't now we hear? None but the lark so shrill and clear; Now at heaven's gates she claps her wings, The Morn not waking till she sings. Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat Poor Robin-red-breast tunes his note. Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing ...
— John Lyly • John Dover Wilson
... "Is't me, Sir? Ma certie, but gin there were naebody in this haill warld but her an' me, I'd tak' a lodging for her in the finest street I could find i' London toun, an' I'd be aff mysel' to the Orkneys by the neist ship as left the docks. I ...
— Out in the Forty-Five - Duncan Keith's Vow • Emily Sarah Holt
... couldn't take upon me to do that; and yet I said to myself, I says, "Suppose they shouldn't be fast married, 'cause the words are contrairy?" and my head went working like a mill, for I was allays uncommon for turning things over and seeing all round 'em; and I says to myself, "Is't the meanin' or the words as makes folks fast i' wedlock?" For the parson meant right, and the bride and bridegroom meant right. But then, when I come to think on it, meanin' goes but a little way i' most things, for you may mean to stick things together ...
— Silas Marner - The Weaver of Raveloe • George Eliot
... Things as divine and glorious as poesy Is wont to sing? Is't not some power in us, Some memory of a yet diviner world And things illumined by the light of God That dowers the stars with beauty, gives them strength And grandeur? 'Tis in us the stars have being, And poesy's self is but the memory Of things that have been or the seer's glance At things that ...
— Welsh Lyrics of the Nineteenth Century • Edmund O. Jones
... I valued it not: They envy'd me intolerably: But above all, one who had the Charge o' the vast Indian Elephants. One day, this Fellow being more turbulent than the rest, I snap'd him up; Prithee Strato, said I, why art thou so fierce? Is't because you're ...
— Prefaces to Terence's Comedies and Plautus's Comedies (1694) • Lawrence Echard
... To catch the unconscious heart in the very act. His mother died,—the only friend he had,— Some tears escaped, but his philosophy Couched like a cat, sat watching close behind And throttled all his passion. Is't not like That devil-spider that devours her mate Scarce freed ...
— Ralph Waldo Emerson • Oliver Wendell Holmes
... of ceremony towards other people, whatever she might exact from them towards herself, cried out, "Come hither, come hither, Cicely Talbot, and tell me how it fares with the poor lady," and as the maiden came forward in the dim light— "Ha! What! Is't she?" she cried, with a sudden start. "On my faith, what has she done to thee? Thou art as like her as ...
— Unknown to History - A Story of the Captivity of Mary of Scotland • Charlotte M. Yonge
... what do they fear? is't me or you? Am I not pure as any of them all? But your laws are against me; and 'tis true, If fame is lowering, I have had a fall! O, selfish men of Athens, shall the world Remember you, and pass my glory by? Nay, 'til from their ...
— The New Penelope and Other Stories and Poems • Frances Fuller Victor
... interpretation, Had to themselves particular relation. And Joseph coming early the next day, Into the room where Pharaoh's servants lay, Beheld their countenances much dejected: Wherefore he said, What evil hath effected This melancholy frame, what is't that causes These marks of discontentment in your faces? Then said they, We have dream'd each man his dream, And there is no man to interpret them. Then Joseph said, Your dreams to me make known. Interpretations are from God alone. Then unto Joseph ...
— The Works of John Bunyan • John Bunyan
... taken him and all his sons, great and small, and Grandees and officers bound and brought them before King Shahyal, who said to the captive, "O Azrak,[FN2] where is the mortal Sayf al-Muluk who whilome was my guest?" Answered the Blue King, "O Shahyal, thou art a Jinni and I am a Jinni and is't on account of a mortal who slew my son that thou hast done this deed; yea, the murtherer of my son, the core of my liver and solace of my soul. How couldest thou work such work and spill the blood of so many thousand Jinn?" He replied, "Leave this talk! ...
— The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Volume 8 • Richard F. Burton
... to which I yield my arms, From my sad sighs draw wanton pleasure still? Is't not enough to suffer for thy charms That I must grieve at thy ...
— The Countess of Escarbagnas • Moliere
... is beauty if it be not seen, Or what is't to be seen if not admir'd, And though admir'd, unless ...
— The Anatomy of Melancholy • Democritus Junior
... And is't that tiny flower that breathes it forth— The only one my eye did not observe? I'd love to give the flower a pretty name— But surely ...
— The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Vol. IX - Friedrich Hebbel and Otto Ludwig • Various
... side streets," said Guy. "Who knows what watch hath been set on Gracechurch Street. 'Tis for London Bridge we are bound, is't not?" ...
— The Panchronicon • Harold Steele Mackaye
... fate. Fair—nay, as this Young slumberer, that dread witch; when, I arrayed In lovely shape, to meet my guileful kiss She yielded first her lip. And thou, sweet maid— What is't I see?—a recent tear has strayed And left its stain upon her ...
— Zophiel - A Poem • Maria Gowen Brooks
... lawyer gone? 'Tis well, then we may drink about without going together by the ears—heigh ho! What a'clock is't? My ...
— Love for Love • William Congreve
... stone-cutters and took marble and ashlar from the stores and set the material on the backs of beasts with all other needs and he repaired to the hall,[FN136] and entered with his company. Hereat the old woman asked "What is't ye want?" "We would slab the floors and walls of this dwelling with marble!" "And who was it sent you?" "Thy son-in-law!" "And what may be his business?" "We know not." "Then what is his name?" "A1- Bundukani," they replied. So she said to herself, "He is naught ...
— Supplemental Nights, Volume 6 • Richard F. Burton
... this my father Philip? Or is't my brother John? Or is't my true love Willie, From ...
— A Bundle of Ballads • Various
... farewell! And thou pale tape light, by whose fast-dying flame I write these words—the last my hand shall pen—farewell! What is't to die? To be shut in a dungeon's walls and starved to death? She knows, and soon will I. She sought to learn of me, and I to teach to her, the mystery of life. Ha, ha! Who claimed her by the church's law has given us both to learn the mystery of death. ...
— Debris - Selections from Poems • Madge Morris
... of ye." The old man Kimball, his horses out of the shafts, and well taken care of, now drew near, and swept off with his ample hand the bunch of girls. "Which one is't? Oh, that ere one with the tag," answering his own question. "Well, now, I'll git that for you jest as easy as rolling off ...
— Five Little Peppers at School • Margaret Sidney
... conditions. Bru. Go to; you are not, Cassius. Cas. I am. Bru. I say you are not. Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself: Have mind upon your health; tempt me no further. Bru. Away, slight man! Cas. Is't possible? Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? Cas. O ye gods! ye gods! must I endure all this? Bru. All this! Ay, more: fret till your proud ...
— McGuffey's Sixth Eclectic Reader • William Holmes McGuffey
... some life in yt yet: what cheare? how is't, my heart of gold? speake, man, if thou canst; looke this way; I promise thee 'tis an honest man & a true Englishman that speakes to thee. Thou look'st away as if thou didst not trust me: I prithee speake to me any thing, Ile take thy word ...
— A Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. II • Various
... SENECA. Is't not enough to bear upon her back Stripped continents? To clasp about her throat A civilisation in a sapphire, or That kingdoms gleam and glow upon her brow. Now doth she overstar us like the night In splendour. Now she rises on our eyes Dawning in ...
— Nero • Stephen Phillips
... Is't death to fall for Freedom's right? He's dead alone that lacks her light! And murder sullies, in Heaven's sight The sword he draws. What can alone ennoble fight? A ...
— Standard Selections • Various
... stars: mark! how they break In silent glances o'er the hills, and speak The evening to the plains, where, shot from far, They meet in dumb salutes, as one great star. The room, methinks, grows darker; and the air Contracts a sadder colour, and less fair. Or is't the drawer's skill? hath he no arts To blind us so we can't know pints from quarts? No, no, 'tis night: look where the jolly clown Musters his bleating herd and quits the down. Hark! how his rude pipe frets the quiet air, Whilst ev'ry hill proclaims Lycoris fair. Rich, happy ...
— Poems of Henry Vaughan, Silurist, Volume II • Henry Vaughan
... deadly stroke! My life's the destined mark. The poison'd shaft has drank my spirits deep.— Is't come to this? Conspire with rebels! Ha! I've served you, madam, with the utmost peril, And ever gloried in th' illustrious danger, Where famine faced me with her meagre mien, And pestilence and death brought up her train. I've fought your ...
— The Earl of Essex • Henry Jones
... a number of fine speeches in this book: "Oh eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears;" there's a conceit: Fountains fraught with tears. "Oh life, no life, but lively form of death;" is't not excellent? "Oh world, no world, but mass of public wrongs;" O God's me: "confused and filled with murder and misdeeds." Is't not simply the best that ever you heard? Ha, how do ...
— Every Man In His Humour • Ben Jonson
... "Who is't now we hear? None but the lark so shrill and clear; Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings, The morn not ...
— Birds and Poets • John Burroughs
... hitherto he had murmured against, Waverley groped his way the best he could along a small paling, which seemed the boundary of some cottage garden. As he reached the gate of this little enclosure, his outstretched hand was grasped by that of a female, whose voice at the same time uttered, 'Edward, is't thou, man?' ...
— Waverley, Or 'Tis Sixty Years Hence, Complete • Sir Walter Scott
... betterment. In an' out, up an' down, lendin' a hand or settin' a stitch or tendin' a baby, all in the day's work, an' queenin' it over the hull lot, that's our 'Goober Glory,' bless her! And evil to anybody would harm the child, say I! Though who'd do ill to her? Is't a bit of word you'd be after leavin', ma'am?" said Meg, ...
— A Sunny Little Lass • Evelyn Raymond
... own again, His towre and all his coyners! And blesse all kings who are to reigne, From traytors and purloyners! The King sent us poor traytors here (But you may guesse the reason) Two brace of bucks to mend the cheere, Is't not ...
— Cavalier Songs and Ballads of England from 1642 to 1684 • Charles Mackay
... thee, young one? what? why pull so at thy cord? Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board? Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be; Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that aileth thee? ...
— Phebe, the Blackberry Girl - Uncle Thomas's Stories for Good Children • Anonymous
... thou so weak? Ye know not—will not know, Ye are the puppets of the wily Waywode Of Sendomir, who reared this spurious Czar, Whose measureless ambition, while we speak, Clutches in thought the spoils of Moscow's wealth. Is't left for me to tell you that even now The league is made and sworn betwixt the twain,— The pledge the Waywode's youngest daughter's hand? And shall our great republic blindly rush Into the perils of an unjust war, To aggrandize the Waywode, and to crown His ...
— Demetrius - A Play • Frederich Schiller
... fact that this report Is artfully concocted? Hast ever heard That dead men have arisen from their graves To question tsars, legitimate tsars, appointed, Chosen by the voice of all the people, crowned By the great Patriarch? Is't not laughable? Eh? What? Why laugh'st thou ...
— Boris Godunov - A Drama in Verse • Alexander Pushkin
... this is my reward—to burn, to languish, To rave, unheeded; while the happy Greek, The refuse of our swords, the dross of conquest, Throws his fond arms about Aspasia's neck, Dwells on her lips, and sighs upon her breast. Is't not enough, he lives by our indulgence, But he must live ...
— Dr. Johnson's Works: Life, Poems, and Tales, Volume 1 - The Works Of Samuel Johnson, Ll.D., In Nine Volumes • Samuel Johnson
... monarch's Royal mandate The lawyer did obey; The thought of six-and-eightpence Did make his heart full gay. "What is't," says he, "your Majesty Would wish ...
— Successful Recitations • Various
... hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks, And given my treasures and my rights of thee To thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy? Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, ...
— Shakespeare's Insomnia, And the Causes Thereof • Franklin H. Head
... out from her lattice, but now Her eye is as bright as her fair shining brow: And is sorrow so fleeting?—Love's tears—dry they fast? The stronger is love, is't the less sure to last? Whose arm sees her knight round her waist?—'Tis his own; By the battle she wept for, her lover is won; "Ply the distaff, my maids, ply the distaff no more; Would you spin when already he ...
— The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction - Vol. XIX. No. 554, Saturday, June 30, 1832 • Various
... Manuel! thou art elderly and wise, And couldst say much; thou hast dwelt within the castle— How many years is't? ...
— The Works of Lord Byron, Volume 4 • Lord Byron
... other days To make thy sire's sway by a kingdom less,— This is to be a monarch, and repress Envy into unutterable praise. Dismiss thy guard, and trust thee to such traits, For who would lift a hand except to bless? Were it not easy, sir, and is't not sweet To make thyself beloved? and to be Omnipotent by mercy's means? for thus Thy sovereignty would grow but more complete: A despot thou, and yet thy people free, And by the heart, not hand, ...
— My Recollections of Lord Byron • Teresa Guiccioli
... Jub. Ha! Syphax, is't not she?—She moves this way; And with her Lucia, Lucius's fair daughter. My heart beats ...
— Cato - A Tragedy, in Five Acts • Joseph Addison
... Why joy'st thou, wretch? Oh, what shall be thy gain? What trophy for this conquest is't thou rears? Thine eyes shall shed, in case thou be not slain, For every drop of blood a sea of tears: The bleeding warriors leaning thus remain, Each one to speak one word long time forbears, Tancred the silence broke at last, ...
— Jerusalem Delivered • Torquato Tasso
... the whisper at my side; 'What is't thou knowest, sweet voice?' I cried; 'A hidden ...
— The Right Knock - A Story • Helen Van-Anderson
... "What is't? what is't? The snakes of the prairies are harmless, unless it be now and then an angered rattler and he always gives you notice with his tail, afore he works his mischief with his fangs. Lord, Lord, what a humbling thing is fear! Here is one who in common delivers words ...
— The Prairie • J. Fenimore Cooper
... make to them is, that you are a very extraordinary old fellow, stap my vitals. Sir Tun. Nay, if thou art joking deputy-lieutenants, we know how to deal with you.—Here, draw a warrant for him immediately. Lord Fop. A warrant! What the devil is't thou wouldst be at, old gentleman? Sir Tun. I would be at you, sirrah, (if my hands were not tied as a magistrate,) and with these two double fists beat your teeth down your throat, you dog, you! [Driving him.] Lord Fop. And why wouldst thou spoil my face ...
— Scarborough and the Critic • Sheridan
... the country, is't not true? And far removed from rumour vain; I did not please you. Why pursue Me now, inflict upon me pain?— Wherefore am I your quarry held?— Is it that I am now compelled To move in fashionable life, ...
— Eugene Oneguine [Onegin] - A Romance of Russian Life in Verse • Aleksandr Sergeevich Pushkin
... wouldst run rather than see Another, though a friend, richer than thee. Fond man! what good or beauty can be found In heaps of treasure buried under ground? Which, rather than diminished e'er to see, Thou wouldst thyself, too, buried with them be And what's the difference is't not quite as bad Never to use, as never to have had? In thy vast barns millions of quarters store, Thy belly, for all that, will hold no more Than mine does. Every baker makes much bread, What then? He's with no more ...
— Cowley's Essays • Abraham Cowley
... faces,' sooth, The old ones prate of!—Bah, what is't they want? 'Some one to work for me, when I am old; Some one to follow me unto my grave; Some one—for me!' Yes, yes. There is not one Old huddler-by-the-fire would shift his seat To a cold corner, ...
— The Piper • Josephine Preston Peabody
... of something! Ay, ay; but is't a breach of the peace? I have no acquaintance with this man. I never saw him ...
— Two Thousand Miles On An Automobile • Arthur Jerome Eddy
... certain signs and conjuring over it, was about to sprinkle Ali therewith, when lo and behold! she heard a great cry and the cup fell from her hand. She turned and found that it was her father's handmaid, who had cried out; and she said to her, "O my mistress, is't thus thou keepest the covenant between me and thee? None taught thee this art save I, and thou didst agree with me that thou wouldst do naught without consulting me and that whoso married thee should marry me also, and that one night should be mine and one night thine." And the broker's daughter ...
— The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Volume 7 • Richard F. Burton
... Qu. Is't thus, my Lord, you give me Proofs of Love? Have then my Eyes lost all their wonted Power? And can you quit the hope of gaining me, To follow your Revenge?—go—go to fight, Bear Arms against your Country, and your King, All for a ...
— The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. II • Aphra Behn
... are one. What is't to them, that rivulets run, Or what concern of theirs the sun? It seems as though Their business with these ...
— The Poems of William Watson • William Watson
... Tamburlaine, This Jew, with others many, th' other wan The attribute of peerless, being a man Whom we may rank with (doing no one wrong) Proteus for shapes, and Roscius for a tongue,— So could he speak, so vary; nor is't hate To merit in him [8] who doth personate Our Jew this day; nor is it his ambition To exceed or equal, being of condition More modest: this is all that he intends, (And that too at the urgence of some friends,) To prove his best, and, if none here gainsay it, The part he hath studied, and intends ...
— The Jew of Malta • Christopher Marlowe
... stood watching while Mr. Thomasson opened the door and bowed her out; and this done and the door closed after her, 'Lord, what ceremony!' he said, with an ugly sneer. 'Is't real, man, or are you bubbling her? And what is this Cock-lane story of a chaise and the rest? Out with it, unless you want to be tossed ...
— The Castle Inn • Stanley John Weyman
... Is it possible? Is't so? I can no longer what I would No longer draw back at my liking! I Must do the deed because I thought of it. ...... What is thy enterprise,—thy aim, thy object? Hast honestly confessed it to thyself? O bloody, ...
— The Disowned, Complete • Edward Bulwer-Lytton
... life; I think My brothers, who administer the means, Live better for my comfort—that's good too; And God, if he pronounce upon such life, Approves my service, which is better still. If he keep silence,—why, for you or me Or that brute beast pulled-up in to-day's "Times," What odds is't, save to ourselves, what ...
— Browning's England - A Study in English Influences in Browning • Helen Archibald Clarke
... where am I? whither is't you lead me? Methinks I read distraction in your face,— You shake and tremble, too! your blood runs cold! Heav'ns guard my love, and bless his heart with patience! Jaf. That I have patience, ...
— Venice Preserved - A Tragedy in Five Acts • Thomas Otway
... dost demand from me? Man, and man's plighted word, are these unknown to thee? Is't not enough, that by the word I gave, My doom for evermore is cast? Doth not the world in all its currents rave, And must a promise hold me fast? Yet fixed is this delusion in our heart; Who, of his own free will, therefrom would part? How blest within whose breast ...
— The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, • Editor-in-Chief: Kuno Francke
... life as easy as we can. Who's in or out, who moves this grand machine, Nor stirs my curiosity, nor spleen. Secrets of state no more I wish to know Than secret movements of a puppet-show: 260 Let but the puppets move, I've my desire, Unseen the hand which guides the master-wire. What is't to us if taxes rise or fall? Thanks to our fortune, we pay none at all. Let muckworms, who in dirty acres deal, Lament those hardships which we cannot feel. His Grace, who smarts, may bellow if he please, But must I bellow too, who sit at ease? By custom safe, ...
— Poetical Works • Charles Churchill
... waters Sailed the ship and yet sailed on, While the townsmen, faint land-lovers, Thought, "How long is't now she's gone? Now, maybe, Bombay she touches, Now strange craft about her throng"; Till she grew but half-remembered, Gone so long: Quite forgot how all her ...
— Poems New and Old • John Freeman
... once, an' let's have an end on't. If you agree, I'll squat with you in whativer bit o' the States you like to name; if not, I'll bid you good-bye this blessed mornin', an' make tracks right away for the Rocky Mountains afore sundown. Ay or no, lass: which is't ...
— The Young Fur Traders • R.M. Ballantyne
... of thing and no longer put off by it). Nay, give me but one smile, sweet mistress. (She sighs heavily.) You sigh! Is't for me? ...
— Happy Days • Alan Alexander Milne
... whereon was a saddle of gold dubbed with pearls and gems, and upon it an old woman was riding accompanied by three pages. She ceased not going till she stood at my shop-door where she drew rein and her servants halted with her. Then she salam'd to me and said, 'How long is't since thou hast opened this store?' and said I, 'This day is the full tenth.' Quoth she, 'Allah have ruth upon the owner of this shop, for he was indeed a merchant.' Quoth I, 'He was my parent,' and replied she, 'Thou art Manjab named and as uniter of thy friends enfamed.' ...
— Supplemental Nights, Volume 5 • Richard F. Burton
... the sullen speaks. That's all I wanted. I have struck you in the face. Is't not enough? ...
— Collected Poems - Volume Two (of 2) • Alfred Noyes
... from Corinth, to make her an ivory box just like the one Tithonus gave Aspasia; but she took care to inform me that it should be inlaid with golden grasshoppers, instead of stars. A wise and witty device, is't not? to put grasshoppers in the paws of transformed Calisto, and fasten them in the belt of Orion. The sky will be so purely Athenian, that Hipparete herself might condescend to be ...
— Philothea - A Grecian Romance • Lydia Maria Child
... come on, ye black varmints," shouted Roy, as he sprang up and seized the axe which lay at his side. "Oh, it's only you, what a yell you do give, Nelly! why, one would think you were a born Injun; what is't all about, lass? Ye-a-ow! how sleepy I am—too late to have ...
— Silver Lake • R.M. Ballantyne
... done enough, for you designed my chains; The grace is vanished, but the affront remains. Nor is't a grace, or for his merit done; You durst no farther, for you feared my son. This you have gained by the rough course you prove; I'm past repentance, and you past my ...
— The Works of John Dryden, Volume 5 (of 18) - Amboyna; The state of Innocence; Aureng-Zebe; All for Love • John Dryden
... kindled by travellers at night in a thorny bramble-bush, and he ruffled, and heaved, and was as when dense jungle-growths are stirred violently by the near approach of a wild animal in his fury, shouting in short breaths, 'A barber! a barber! Is't so? can it be? To me? A barber! O thou, thou reptile! filthy thing! A barber! O dog! A barber? What? when I bid fair for the highest honours known? O sacrilegious wretch! monster! How? are the Afrites jealous, that they send ...
— The Shaving of Shagpat • George Meredith
... answered, with Clo Wildairs's unceremonious air. "I am but a gipsy woman in good luck for a day, and my man is a gipsy, too, though his skin is fairer than mine. We are going to join our camp near Camylott village. These horses are not ours but borrowed—honestly. Is't not so, John Merton?" And she so laughed at his Grace with her big, saucy eyes, that he wished he had been indeed a gipsy man and could have ...
— His Grace of Osmonde • Frances Hodgson Burnett
... what is't fools make such vain keeping? Sin their conception, their birth weeping, Their life a general mist of error, Their death a ...
— Wine, Women, and Song - Mediaeval Latin Students' songs; Now first translated into English verse • Various
... this?' he muttered in a tone of deep oppression. 'Is it come to this? What is't I have heard? what done? Down, tempting devil, down! O life! O glory! O my country, my chosen people, and my sacred creed! why do we live, why act? Why have we feeling for aught that's famous, or for aught that's holy? ...
— Alroy - The Prince Of The Captivity • Benjamin Disraeli
... friend, Little is't to such an end That I praise thy rareness: Other dogs may be thy peers Happy in these drooping ears And ...
— The Dog's Book of Verse • Various
... ye there forsooth? Is't Myles I see with lusty Watt and John and Hal o' the Quarterstaff? God den t' ye, friends, and merry hunting to one and all, for by oak and ash and thorn here stand I to live with thee, aye, good lads, and to die with ye here in the ...
— The Geste of Duke Jocelyn • Jeffery Farnol
... resound With dirges; nor that triumphs won of yore Be borne before him; nor for sorrowing hosts To cast their weapons forth. Some little shell He begs as for the meanest, laid in which His mutilated corse may reach the flame. Grudge not his misery the pile of wood Lit by this menial hand. Is't not enough That his Cornelia with dishevelled hair Weeps not beside him at his obsequies, Nor with a last embrace shall place the torch Beneath her husband dead, but on the deep ...
— Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes of the Civil Wars • Lucan
... animal. I am the lowest, meanest of mankind, I, the proud child of Colchis' mighty king!— Teach me what I must do. Oh, I will learn Gladly from thee, for thou art gentle, mild. 'Tis patient teaching, and not angry scorn, Will tame me.— Is't thy wont to be so calm And so serene? To me that happy gift The gods denied. But I will learn of thee! Thou hast the skill to know what pleases him, What makes him glad. Oh, teach me how I may Once more find favor in my husband's sight, And I ...
— The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Vol. VI. • Editor-in-Chief: Kuno Francke
... if he would; thou seest that he is but a dull clownish lad, whose size has increased out of all proportion to his sense; wherefore I would fain hear what thou hast to say to it." "Alas!" said the other, "what is't thou sayst? Knowest thou not that we have vowed our virginity to God?" "Oh," rejoined the first, "think but how many vows are made to Him all day long, and never a one performed: and so, for our vow, let Him find another or others to perform it." ...
— The Decameron, Volume I • Giovanni Boccaccio
... Pitt—his last large words, As I may prophesy—that ring to-night In their first mintage to the feasters here, Will spread with ageing, lodge, and crystallize, And stand embedded in the English tongue Till it grow thin, outworn, and cease to be.— So is't ordained by That Which all ordains; For words were never winged with apter grace. Or blent with happier choice of time and place, To hold the imagination ...
— The Dynasts - An Epic-Drama Of The War With Napoleon, In Three Parts, - Nineteen Acts, And One Hundred And Thirty Scenes • Thomas Hardy
... sharply, as she opened it, 'that neither chaps (knocks) nor ca's?—Preserve 's a'! is't you, my lord?' ...
— Robert Falconer • George MacDonald
... back in the socket, and shrunken the eyeballs shone, As withdrawn from a vision of deeds it were shame to see. "Now, now, grim henchman, what is't with thee?" Brake Maclean, and his wrath rose red as a beacon the ...
— The Poems of Sidney Lanier • Sidney Lanier
... stood, "And in the waves had flung me; but sore stunn'd, "A cable caught, and sav'd me. Loud the crew "The impious deed applauded. Bacchus rose, "(The boy was Bacchus!) with the tumult loud "Rous'd from his sleep;—the fumes of wine dispell'd, "His senses seem'd restor'd. What is't you do? "What noise is this? he cry'd;—What brought me here? "O, mariners! inform me;—tell me where "You carry me! Fear not,—the pilot said,— "Say but the port, where most thou'dst chuse to land;— "Thither we straight will ...
— The Metamorphoses of Publius Ovidus Naso in English blank verse Vols. I & II • Ovid
... "Is't he?—Spectre with flashing eyes, And art thou Satan come to us surprise?" "Much less am I and yet much more. Oh, kings of crimes and plots! your day is o'er, But I your lives will only take to-day; Beneath the talons black your souls let ...
— Poems • Victor Hugo
... boys, I must have my lord's livery; what is't, a maypole? troth, 'twere a good body for a courtier's impreza, if it had but this life—Frustra ...
— The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction - Vol. 19, Issue 544, April 28, 1832 • Various
... put away this dotage from thy spright? Thy heart is dazed and rest to thee forbidden quite. Is't not enough for thee to have a weeping eye And vitals still on fire for memory and despite? For self-conceit, indeed, he laugheth, when he saith, "The day obliterates the ...
— The Book Of The Thousand Nights And One Night, Volume IV • Anonymous
... 'And wha is't tou's gotten, Wullie, lad?' said half a score of voices, while all eyes were turned on your humble servant, who kept the best countenance he could, though not quite easy at becoming the centre to which all eyes ...
— Redgauntlet • Sir Walter Scott
... sent? Is't no worse for the wear? 5 Think first, what you are! Call to mind what you were! I gave you innocence, I gave you hope, Gave health, and genius, and an ample scope. Return you me guilt, lethargy, ...
— The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge - Vol I and II • Samuel Taylor Coleridge
... Nodes and Ulcers are the Marks, Of many a wanton Beau and am'rous Sparks And many a lustful Lecher oft complains Of restless Days and damn'd nocturnal Pains, Nays go into a Flux o dozen Weeks, Is't not the Man himself these Sorrow seeks? Besides, how often see you go astride A Miss, as if she was with Packthread ty'd; Who's Poxt and Clapt as much as you can be, And undergoes a deal of Misery, To give your wanton Appetites content, [*?] feeding you ...
— The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony: Responses From Women • Various
... tub, half full of beef, salted, Madam Fig had trick'd out for a seat, sir, Whereon Snip, for to sing, was exalted, But the cover crack'd under his feet, sir. Snip was sous'd in the brine, but soon rising Exclaimed, while they laughed at his grief, "Is't a matter so monstrous surprising, To ...
— Deborah Dent and Her Donkey and Madam Fig's Gala - Two Humorous Tales • Unknown
... he sighed. "The life of a sailor, 'tis that hard—is't not, me boys?" He wagged his head again. "The vittles is hard on a stummick as delikit nor ...
— Mr. Wicker's Window • Carley Dawson
... John Splendid, seemingly in a mood to humour the man. "But I'll allow there's the right spirit in the objection—to begin with in a young lad. When I was your age I had the same good Highland notion that the hardest way to face the foe was the handsomest 'Pallas Armata'* (is't that you call the book of arms, Elrigmore?) tells different; but 'Pallas Armata' (or whatever it is) is for old men with ...
— John Splendid - The Tale of a Poor Gentleman, and the Little Wars of Lorn • Neil Munro
... engine o' mine," continued the engineer, pointing to the big Baldwin locomotive beside him. "Is't she a pippin, though? These little French ones look like fleas up alongside an elephant aside of her. They're forty-five like her in the same lot, bought by the French for $45,000 a throw, and turned out at the works in Philly in twenty days. They're owned by the French now, but they've got the ...
— The Stars & Stripes, Vol 1, No 1, February 8, 1918, - The American Soldiers' Newspaper of World War I, 1918-1919 • American Expeditionary Forces
... be? Is't true? Is't possible? 'Tis really thou. I press thee to my heart and feel the beat Of thine omnipotent against my own. Now all is well again.—In this embrace The sickness of my soul is cured. I lie Upon my ...
— The Life and Works of Friedrich Schiller • Calvin Thomas
... now." "What has Martha told you?" "Nothing, but I knows." And finding I was about to get on the bed, "Naw, naw, kiss it." So I put my mouth down on to the hair and gave a loud kiss. "Naw," said she, "do it as you do it to she, I am a finer woman than she by long chalks; what is't yer sees to take to her so? you knows you tickles her with yer tongue." The murder was out. I wanted to mount her, she baulked me, and kept repeating in a jockular, playful, manner her request. So I got her to the side of the bed, her large thighs wide open, and legs hanging down ...
— My Secret Life, Volumes I. to III. - 1888 Edition • Anonymous
... blood, beyond all memory Divided, or ev'n never met before. I know not how this is—perhaps in brutes That live by kindlier instincts—but I know That looking now upon that head whose crown Pronounces him a sovereign king, I feel No setting of the current in my blood Tow'rd him as sire. How is't with you, old man, Tow'rd him they call ...
— Life Is A Dream • Pedro Calderon de la Barca
... iron engine is't, That can thy subtle secret strength resist, Still the best farrier cannot set a shoe So sure, but thou (so ...
— The Folk-lore of Plants • T. F. Thiselton-Dyer
... O cruel Pompey whether wilt thou flye, And leaue thy poore Cornelia thus forlorne, 370 Is't our bad fortune or thy cruell will That still it seuers in extremity. O let me go with thee, and die with thee, Nothing shall thy Cornelia grieuous thinke That shee endures for her sweete Pompeys sake. Pom. Tis for ...
— The Tragedy Of Caesar's Revenge • Anonymous
... answer; but the voice instantly continued, in the manner of one half asleep and enraged at being disturbed, "Is't you, Peg? Damn ye, stay away, now! I tell ye, stay away, or, by God, I will cut your throat!—I will!" He continued to mutter and swear, but without coherence ...
— Edgar Huntley • Charles Brockden Brown
... "Ay, 'deed is't, Deacon," answered the landlady and yet I wonder our gentry leave their ain wark to the like o' him. —But as lang as silver's current, Deacon, folk maunna look ower nicely at what king's ...
— Guy Mannering • Sir Walter Scott
... "Mournful is't to say Farewell, Though for few brief hours we part; In that absence, who can tell What may come to ...
— Mary Barton • Elizabeth Gaskell
... Mrs. Cregan did not move. She had drawn back in her chair. Her mouth had loosened; her hand lay limp on the table; all her intelligence seemed to have concentrated in her eyes in an expression of guilty and horrified surprise. She said faintly: "Is't Cregan?" ...
— McClure's Magazine, Vol 31, No 2, June 1908 • Various
... thou'st been studying the rantipoles of Will Shakspeare, Hal. What is't, man? Is thy bile at boiling heat because I have lit upon thee billing and cooing with the forester's fair niece—poh! man—there be brighter eyes than hers, however bright ...
— Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine—Vol. 54, No. 333, July 1843 • Various
... another chooses: Why should you rack, poor, foolish bards, For ends like these, the gracious Muses? I tell you, give but more—more, ever more, they ask: Thus shall you hit the mark of gain and glory. Seek to confound your auditory! To satisfy them is a task.— What ails you now? Is't suffering, ...
— Faust • Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
... Secord. My God! and here am I, a paroled cripple! Oh, Canada, my chosen country! Now— Is't now, in this thy dearest strait, I fail? I, who for thee would pour my blood with joy— Would give my life for thy prosperity— Most I stand by, and see thy foes prevail ...
— Laura Secord, the heroine of 1812. - A Drama. And Other Poems. • Sarah Anne Curzon
... thus all this I could unblushing write, Fear not that pen that shall thy praise indite, When high-born blood my adoration draws, Exalted glory and unblemished cause; A theme so all divine my muse shall wing, What is't for thee, great prince, I will not sing? No bounds shall stop my Pegasean flight, I'll spot my Hind, and make my Panther white. * * * * * But if, great prince, my feeble strength shall fail, Thy theme I'll to my successors entail; My heirs the unfinished subject ...
— The Dramatic Works of John Dryden Vol. I. - With a Life of the Author • Sir Walter Scott
... is't?" he asked, as Trimble, hat in hand, was shown into the little parlour. "Man, it's the ...
— A Dog with a Bad Name • Talbot Baines Reed
... a plot upon mine honour; And thus he lays his baits to catch my soul:— Ha! but the presence opens; who comes here? By heaven, my niece! led by Alphonso Corso! Ha, Malicorn! is't possible? truth from thee! 'Tis plain! and I, in justifying woman, Have done ...
— The Works Of John Dryden, Vol. 7 (of 18) - The Duke of Guise; Albion and Albanius; Don Sebastian • John Dryden
... not see her face, and study there the effect of that thrust of his, at least he observed the quiver that ran through her muffled figure, he caught the note of anger that throbbed in her reply—"And if that were so, what is't ...
— The Sea-Hawk • Raphael Sabatini
... Is't in your ears or in your mind you're grieved? C. Why do you thus define the seat of grief? G. The doer pains your mind, but I ...
— Plutarch's Morals • Plutarch
... jist pit me 'at I dinna ken mysel'! Is't poassible ye hae forgotten what's sae weel kent to a' the cuintry roon'?—the auld captain,'at canna lie still in's grave, because o'—because o' whatever the rizzon may be? Onygait he's no laid yet; an' some ...
— Warlock o' Glenwarlock • George MacDonald
... ground where, mourned and missed, The lips repose our love has kissed;— But where's their memory's mansion? Is't Yon churchyard's bowers? No! in ourselves their souls exist, ...
— The World's Best Poetry, Volume 8 • Various
... I would have said is this: I have been eager to see Lady Inger Gyldenlove, whose fame has spread so wide. She must be a queenly woman,—is't not so?—The one thing I like not in her, is that she shrinks so ...
— Henrik Ibsen's Prose Dramas Vol III. • Henrik Ibsen
... me a cushion well bedight With ruffles blue, and I, oh, luckless wight, Must send to her—she said, exchange is fair— My college pin in gold. Her cushion's where With half-closed eyes I lie. Is't not ...
— Cap and Gown - A Treasury of College Verse • Selected by Frederic Knowles
... of the famished, in ages past in time now present and in future years yet to come, thou art longing to paedicate my love. Nor is't done secretly: for thou art with him jesting, closely sticking at his side, trying every means. In vain: for, instructed in thy artifice, I'll strike home beforehand by irrumating thee. Now if thou didst this to work ...
— The Carmina of Caius Valerius Catullus • Caius Valerius Catullus
... Is't not enough The carrion festering we snuff, And gathering down upon the breeze, Release the valley from disease; If longing for more fresh a meal, Around the tender flock we wheel, A marksman doth some bush conceal. This very morn, I heard an ewe Bleat in ...
— Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 1 July 1848 • Various
... Regions and odorous of Song's traded East. Thou, for the life of all that live The victim daily born and sacrificed; To whom the pinion of this longing verse Beats but with fire which first thyself did give, To thee, O Sun—or is't perchance, to Christ? ...
— New Poems • Francis Thompson
... 'How far is't called to Fores? What are these, So wither'd, and so wild in their attire? That look not like the inhabitants o' the ...
— Life Of Johnson, Volume 5 • Boswell
... SOL. There is none to thee As I have been? Speak, speak, Alarcos, tell me Is't true? Or, in this shipwreck of my soul, Do I cling wildly to some perishing hope That sinks ...
— Count Alarcos - A Tragedy • Benjamin Disraeli |
