The New Foundling Hospital for Wit: Being a Collection of Fugitive Pieces, in Prose and Verse, Not in Any Other Collection. With Several Pieces Never Before Published, 6. kötetJohn Almon J. Debrett, opposite Burlington House, in Piccadilly, 1786 |
Részletek a könyvből
6 - 10 találat összesen 44 találatból.
52. oldal
... should'st condemn ? " Why , at the hearing of a dismal tale , " Doft thou with forrow turn my vifage pale ? " Why , when distress in any shape appears , Doft thou diffolve my very foul in tears ? " Why in thy fecret folds is Friendship ...
... should'st condemn ? " Why , at the hearing of a dismal tale , " Doft thou with forrow turn my vifage pale ? " Why , when distress in any shape appears , Doft thou diffolve my very foul in tears ? " Why in thy fecret folds is Friendship ...
77. oldal
... should remove the disease : With looks most important each fymptom'was weigh'd , And the farce of prescription full gravely was play'd . Reduc'd by their arts , and quite worn to a lath , My carcafe was fent to the vultures at Bath ...
... should remove the disease : With looks most important each fymptom'was weigh'd , And the farce of prescription full gravely was play'd . Reduc'd by their arts , and quite worn to a lath , My carcafe was fent to the vultures at Bath ...
81. oldal
... should fee , by his Grace's affiftance , The fcum of the earth ladled off to a distance . The breed of St. Giles's , plump , tatter'd , and pert , Understanding his mufings , replied , from the dirt : " Winds blast your hard phiz , for ...
... should fee , by his Grace's affiftance , The fcum of the earth ladled off to a distance . The breed of St. Giles's , plump , tatter'd , and pert , Understanding his mufings , replied , from the dirt : " Winds blast your hard phiz , for ...
82. oldal
... Should a storm ever blow that should topple you down , Who , think you , would plaifter the crack in your crown ? Your friends , the True Blue , fcour'd and turn'd at the dyer's , Old Whigs grow new Tories , low churchmen high- flyers ...
... Should a storm ever blow that should topple you down , Who , think you , would plaifter the crack in your crown ? Your friends , the True Blue , fcour'd and turn'd at the dyer's , Old Whigs grow new Tories , low churchmen high- flyers ...
83. oldal
... Should her broth , over - heated , rife up to a brimmer , And the Devil , to cool it , be fent with a skimmer , The froth and the bubbles of Fortune and Birth , From the top he'd take off , as the fcum of the earth ; While we , as he ...
... Should her broth , over - heated , rife up to a brimmer , And the Devil , to cool it , be fent with a skimmer , The froth and the bubbles of Fortune and Birth , From the top he'd take off , as the fcum of the earth ; While we , as he ...
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
beauty beſt blefs bleft blifs boaſt bofom breaſt British Lion charms circling hours dear defire diſplay'd drefs e'er eaſe erft ev'n ev'ry eyes facred faid fair fame fate fcenes fcum fear feat fenfe fhade fhall fhew fhine fhould figh filks fleep flow'rs fmile foft fome fons foon forrow foul ftate ftill fuch funk fure fweet GAME AT CHESS grace heart Heav'n houſe juſt ladics Lady loft lonely grove lov'd maid Mifs mind Molly Morpheus moſt Mufe muft muſt Nature's ne'er never nymph o'er paffion pleafing pleaſe pleaſure poffefs'd pow'r praiſe pray'r pride rais'd reft reſt rife round ſhall ſhe SIR GRIFFITH BOYNTON ſkies ſmile ſpread ſtand ſtate ſtill ſweet tear thee thefe themſelves theſe thofe thoſe thou thought thro Townly uſe Virtue WESTMINSTER SCHOOL Whilft whofe whoſe wife youth
Népszerű szakaszok
31. oldal - The busy day, the peaceful night, Unfelt, uncounted, glided by ; His frame was firm, his powers were bright, Though now his eightieth year was nigh. Then with no fiery throbbing pain, No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain, And freed his soul the nearest way.
79. oldal - The righted orphan's grateful tear. To Virtue and her friends a friend, Still may my voice the weak defend, Ne'er may my prostituted tongue Protect th' oppressor in his wrong, Nor wrest the spirit of the laws To sanctify a villain's cause.
100. oldal - Tis all a trick ; these all are shams, By which they mean to cheat you ; But have a care, for you're the Lambs, And they the Wolves that eat you. Nor let the thoughts of no delay To these their courts misguide you ; 'Tis you're the showy Horse, and they The Jockeys that will ride you.
135. oldal - Tis harder still to fix than gain a heart; What's won by beauty must be kept by art. Too kind a treatment the blest lover cloys, And oft despair the growing flame destroys...
199. oldal - That living could not bear to see An equal, now lies torn and dead ; Here his pale trunk, and there his head : Great Pompey ! while I meditate, With solemn horror, thy sad fate, Thy carcass scatter'd on the shore Without a name, instructs me more Than my whole library before.
46. oldal - Alas ! by fome degree of woe We every blifs muft gain : The heart can ne'er a tranfport know, That never feels a pain.
68. oldal - The heart that melts for others' woe, Shall then scarce feel its own. The wounds which now each moment bleed, Each moment then shall close; And tranquil days shall still succeed To nights of calm repose.
174. oldal - I'm alive, To take the Crown at eighteen years, The wife at twenty-five ! The mystery how shall we explain, For sure as Dowdeswell said, * Thus early if they're fit to reign They must be fit to wed ! Quoth Tom to Dick, thou art a fool, And little know"st of life, Alas ! 'tis easier far to rule A kingdom than a wife.
54. oldal - till eleven, or cock my lac'd Hat ; Then step to my Neighbours, 'till Dinner, to chat. Dinner over, to Toms, or to James's I go, The News of the Town so impatient to know ; While Law, Locke, and Newton, and all the rum Race, That talk of their Modes, their Ellipses, and Space, The Seat of the Soul, and new Systems on high, In Holes, as abtruse...
27. oldal - To form that harmony of soul and face, Where beauty shines, the mirror of the mind. Such was the maid, that in the morn of youth,. In virgin innocence, in Nature's pride, Blest with each art, that owes its charm to truth, Sunk in her Father's fond embrace, and died. He weeps : O venerate the holy tear ! Faith lends her aid to ease Affliction's load; The parent mourns his child upon the bier, The Christian yields an angel to his God.