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Ammonia BIDDY bless Blue-stocking brother Capt Captain Canvas Curaçoa Davy dear devil Dick dinner Doll Dolly dream Enter ev'n Ev’n eyes fancy father French FUDGE gentleman give glory hand happy haſ head heart Heaven hey scribble—hy scribble honour hope House of Guelph Irish Jacobin JMad JMiss Hart King La Fosse Lady Bab late laughing Leath Leatherhead letter look Lord LORD WELLINGTON Lordship Lottery lover Ma'am Madam Miss Hartington Miss Selwyn morning ne'er never night o'er Papists pâtés poet poor Rosier round sal ammoniac SCENE Sir Charles Canvas smile soul speech Sunnites sure Susan sweet tell thee there's thing thou thought tion turn twas twill twould us’d whiskers words write young
152. oldal - When Poverty comes in at the door, Love flies out at the window,
122. oldal - The orator — dramatist — minstrel, — who ran "Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all ! " Whose mind was an essence, compounded with art " From the finest and best of all other men's powers ; — " Who ruled, like a wizard, the world of the heart, " And could call up its sunshine, or bring down its showers!
160. oldal - To sigh, yet feel no pain, To weep, yet scarce know why ; To sport an hour with Beauty's chain, Then throw it idly by ; To kneel at many a shrine, Yet lay the heart on none ; To think all other charms divine. But those we just have won ; This is love, careless love, Such as kindleth hearts that rove.
290. oldal - Because it is a slender thing of wood, That up and down its awkward arm doth sway, And coolly spout and spout and spout away, In one weak, washy, everlasting flood ! EPIGRAM.
120. oldal - Oh it sickens the heart to see bosoms so hollow, And friendships so false in the great and high-born; — To think what a long line of Titles may follow The relics of him who died, friendless and lorn ! " How proud they can press to the funeral array Of him whom they shunn'd, in his sickness and sorrow— How bailiffs may seize his last blanket to-day, Whose pall shall be held up by Nobles to-morrow...
135. oldal - THE song that lightens our languid way When brows are glowing, And faint with rowing, Is like the spell of Hope's airy lay, To whose sound through life we stray. The beams that flash on the oar awhile...
41. oldal - twixt pleasure and fright,— That there came up — imagine, dear DOLL, if you can — A fine sallow, sublime, sort of Werter-fac'd man, With mustachios that gave (what we read of so oft) The dear Corsair expression, half savage, half soft, As Hyaenas in love may be fancied to look, or A something between ABELARD and old BLUCHER!
121. oldal - Was this then the fate of that highgifted man, The pride of the palace, the bower, and the hall, The orator,— dramatist,— minstrel,— who ran Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all...
312. oldal - THERE was a little Man, and he had a little Soul, And he said, " Little Soul, let us try, try, try, " Whether it's within our reach " To make up a little Speech, " Just between little you and little I, I, I, " Just between little you and little I!