The British Essayists;: Adventurer
J. Johnson, J. Nichols and son, R. Baldwin, F. and C. Rivington, W. Otridge and son, W.J. and J. Richardson, A. Strahan, R. Faulder, ... [and 40 others], 1808
Mit mondanak mások - Írjon ismertetőt
Nem találtunk ismertetőket a szokott helyeken.
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
able acquainted affected ancients appearance attempt attention beauty became become believe cause character circumstances common conduct considered continued danger desire determined discovered distress dreadful easily equal evil excellence expected expressed eyes father fear Flavilla fortune frequently give greater hand happened happiness heart honour hope human imagination immediately increase influence kind knew knowledge known labour lady learned leave less live look mankind manner means Mercator mind moment morning nature ness never night object observed obtain once opinion passed passion perhaps person Plautus pleasure present produced proportion reason received reflected scarce sense sentiments short sometimes soon suffered surely taken tenderness things thou thought tion told truth turned virtue whole wish wretched writers
12. oldal - Where the bee sucks, there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie: There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
15. oldal - Be not afeard ; the isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears, and sometimes voices That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again : and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.
134. oldal - You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age, wretched in both. If it be you that stirs these daughters...
302. oldal - It was said of Socrates that he brought Philosophy down from heaven, to inhabit among men ; and I shall be ambitious to have it said of me, that I have brought Philosophy out of closets and libraries, schools and colleges, to dwell in clubs and assemblies, at tea-tables and in coffeehouses.
194. oldal - Pray, do not mock me : I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward ; and, to deal plainly, I fear, I am not in my perfect mind. Methinks, I should know you, and know this man ; Yet I am doubtful : for I am mainly ignorant What place this is : and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments ; nor I know not Where I did lodge last night : Do not laugh at me ; For, as I am a man, I think this lady To be my child Cordelia.
151. oldal - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
194. oldal - tis fittest. Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave. — Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
32. oldal - I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, Thou wondrous man. Trin. A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard ! Cal. I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow ; And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts ; Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmoset ; I'll bring thee To clustering filberts and sometimes I'll get thee Young scamels from the rock.
149. oldal - Spit, fire ! spout, rain. Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, You owe me no subscription : then let fall Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave, A poor, infirm, weak and despised old man: But yet I call you servile ministers, That have with two pernicious daughters join'd Your high-engender'd battles 'gainst a head So old and white as this.