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257. oldal - Neither is it true, that this fineness of raillery is offensive. A witty man is tickled while he is hurt in this manner, and a fool feels it not.
323. oldal - Scarce can our Fields, such Crowds at Tyburn die, With Hemp the Gallows and the Fleet supply. Propose your Schemes, ye Senatorian Band, Whose Ways and Means support the sinking Land; Lest Ropes be wanting in the tempting Spring, To rig another Convoy for the K[in]g.
380. oldal - His fall was destined to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand ; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
256. oldal - How easy it is to call rogue and villain, and that wittily! but how hard to make a man appear a fool, a blockhead, or a knave, without using any of those opprobrious terms!
372. oldal - In full-blown dignity, see Wolsey stand, Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand : To him the church, the realm, their pow'rs consign. Through him the rays of regal bounty shine, Turn'd by his nod the stream of honour flows, His smile alone security bestows...
31. oldal - But swiftness is the vice I only fear. Yet, if you knew me well, you would not...
265. oldal - Satire is a kind of poetry, without a series of action, invented for the purging of our minds ; in which human vices, ignorance, and errors, and all things besides, which are produced from them in every man, are severely reprehended...
380. oldal - Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain, " Think nothing gain'd," he cries, " till nought remain, On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards fly, And all be mine beneath the polar sky.