Este es el libro de los buenos proverbios que dixieron los Phi(losophos)Litterarischer Verein, 1879 - 686 páginas |
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Página 637 - Give not thy tongue too great a liberty, lest it take thee prisoner. A word unspoken is, like the sword in the scabbard, thine ; if vented, thy sword is in another's hand. If thou desire to be held wise, be so wise as to hold thy tongue.
Página 653 - The Dictes and Sayings of the Philosophers. A facsimile reproduction of the first book printed in England by William Caxton in 1477.
Página 512 - E dixo la donsella: Digo que luenga en tres, que sea luenga d'estado, e que haya el cuello largo e los dedos luengos, e blanca en tres: el cuerpo blanco e los dientes blancos e lo blanco de los ojos blanco, e prieta en tres: cabellos prietos e las cejas prietas e lo prieto de los ojos prieto, e bermeja en tres...
Página 588 - ... and good wylle that he hath vnto alle ladyes and Gentylwomen. he thought that Socrates spared the sothe. And wrote of women more than trouthe.
Página 638 - Happy the man - and happy he alone He who can call today his own, He who, secure within, can say 'Tomorrow, do thy worst, for I have lived today: Be fair or foul or rain or shine, The joys I have possessed in spite of Fate are mine: Not Heaven itself upon the Past has power, But what has been has been, and I have had my hour.
Página 298 - Every one is buried under the floor of his own house, without monument or memorial ; and among the commonalty the house continues occupied as usual ; but among the great there is more refinement, and it is ever after abandoned. The corpse being washed, the first chapter of the Koran is read over it, and the interment takes place the same day. The bodies of slaves are dragged out of town, and left a prey to vultures and wild beasts.
Página 588 - I apperceyue that my sayd lord knoweth veryly that suche defautes ben not had ne founden in the women born and dwellyng in these partyes ne Regyons of the world.
Página 359 - Give me the avowed, the erect, the manly foe, Bold I can meet — perhaps may turn his blow ; But of all plagues, good heaven, thy wrath can send, Save, save, oh ! save me from the candid friend...