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author | andy wharmby <wharmby@php.net> | 2009-01-13 10:08:19 +0000 |
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committer | andy wharmby <wharmby@php.net> | 2009-01-13 10:08:19 +0000 |
commit | c7f8f3bf436551fa362ed746e90e0d5879c38c1a (patch) | |
tree | 8226f479b50958c02700095c64f8119076d4d737 /ext/zlib/tests/data.inc | |
parent | 03b0b3031e1911bd1bca2a013e368d52f82cd1f8 (diff) | |
download | php-git-c7f8f3bf436551fa362ed746e90e0d5879c38c1a.tar.gz |
New zlib extension tests. Tested on Windows, Linux and Linux 64 bit
Diffstat (limited to 'ext/zlib/tests/data.inc')
-rw-r--r-- | ext/zlib/tests/data.inc | 88 |
1 files changed, 88 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/ext/zlib/tests/data.inc b/ext/zlib/tests/data.inc new file mode 100644 index 0000000000..441199ff08 --- /dev/null +++ b/ext/zlib/tests/data.inc @@ -0,0 +1,88 @@ + +<?php +$data = <<<QUOTE +To be or not to be, that is the question; +Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer +The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune +Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, +And by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep; +No more; and by a sleep to say we end +The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks +That flesh is heir to 'tis a consummation +Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; +To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub, +For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, +When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, +Must give us pause. There's the respect +That makes calamity of so long life, +For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, +Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, +The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay, +The insolence of office, and the spurns +That patient merit of th'unworthy takes, +When he himself might his quietus make +With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, +To grunt and sweat under a weary life, +But that the dread of something after death, +The undiscovered country from whose bourn +No traveller returns, puzzles the will, +And makes us rather bear those ills we have +Than fly to others that we know not of? +Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, +And thus the native hue of resolution +Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, +And enterprises of great pitch and moment +With this regard their currents turn away, +And lose the name of action. + + +Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, +senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with +the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, heal'd by +the same means, warm'd and cool'd by the same winter and summer +as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you +tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? +And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you +in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a +Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong +a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, +revenge. The villainy you teach me, I will execute, and it +shall go hard but I will better the instruction. + +Is this a dagger which I see before me, +The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. +I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. +Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible +To feeling as to sight? or art thou but +A dagger of the mind, a false creation, +Proceeding from the heat-oppress'd brain? +I see thee yet, in form as palpable +As this which now I draw. +Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going; +And such an instrument I was to use. +Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, +Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still, +And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, +Which was not so before. +There's no such thing: +It is the bloody business which informs Thus to mine eyes. +Now o'er the one halfworld Nature seems dead, +and wicked dreams abuse The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates +Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder, +Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, +Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace. +With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design +Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, +Hear not my steps, which way they walk, +for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, +And take the present horror from the time, +Which now suits with it. +Whiles I threat, he lives: +Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. +I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. +Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell +That summons thee to heaven or to hell. + +QUOTE; + +?>
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