The British Muse: Or, A Collection of Thoughts, Moral, Natural, and Sublime, of Our English Poets: who Flourished in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries ... (Google eBook)

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F. Cogan, 1738 - English poetry
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Page 23 - What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her/ What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have...
Page 293 - And new philosophy calls all in doubt; The element of fire is quite put out; The sun is lost, and th' earth, and no man's wit Can well direct him where to look for it.
Page 244 - Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Page 45 - Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults To give in evidence. What then? what rests? Try what repentance can: what can it not? Yet what can it, when one can not repent? O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul, that struggling to be free Art more engaged! Help, angels! make assay; Bow, stubborn knees; and heart with strings of steel Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe. All may be well.
Page 24 - Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.
Page 191 - Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty: For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities.
Page 9 - Who lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.
Page 277 - ... tis not to have you gone ; For why, the fools are mad if left alone. Take no repulse, whatever she doth say ; For, get you gone, she doth not mean, away : Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces ; Though ne'er so black, say, they have angels
Page 86 - I know you all, and will awhile uphold The unyok'd humour of your idleness ; Yet herein will I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world, That when he please again to be himself, Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, By breaking through the foul and ugly mists Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
Page 257 - tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners ; so that if we will plant nettles, or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills.

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