The British Essayists: The Adventurer (Google eBook)

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J. Johnson, J. Nichols and Son, R. Baldwin, F. and C. Rivington, W. Otridge and Son, W. J. and J. Richardson, A. Strahan, J. Sewell, R. Faulder, G. and W. Nicol, T. Payne, G. and J. Robinson, W. Lowndes, G. Wilkie, J. Mathews, P. McQueen, Ogilvy and Son, J. Scatcherd, J. Walker, Vernor and Hood, R. Lea, Darton and Harvey, J. Nunn, Lackington and Company, D. Walker, Clarke and Son, G. Kearsley, C. Law, J. White, Longman and Rees, Cadell, Jun. and Davies, J. Barker, T. Kay, Wynne and Company, Pote and Company, Carpenter and Company, W. Miller, Murray and Highley, S. Bagster, T. Hurst, T. Boosey, R. Pheney, W. Baynes, J. Harding, R. H. Evans, J. Mawman; and W. Creech, Edinburgh, 1802 - English essays
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Page 34 - I'll be wise hereafter, And seek for grace : What a thrice-double ass Was I, to take this drunkard for a god, And worship this dull fool ? Pro.
Page 130 - 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...
Page 13 - Ixion fix'd, the wretch shall feel The giddy motion of the whirling mill, In fumes of burning chocolate shall glow, And tremble at the sea that froths below...
Page 131 - No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall I will do such things, What they are, yet I know not ; but they shall be The terrors of the earth. You think...
Page 60 - In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.
Page 185 - With a more riotous appetite. Down from the waist they are centaurs, Though women all above: But to the girdle do the gods inherit, Beneath is all the fiends; there's hell, there's darkness, there is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench, consumption; Fie, fie, fie! pah; pah! Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination: there's money for the'e.
Page 32 - You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse : The red plague rid you, For learning me your language ! Pro.
Page 148 - Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three on's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! come, unbutton here.
Page 146 - But I will punish home : No, I will weep no more. In such a night To shut me out! Pour on : I will endure : In such a night as this ! O Regan, Goneril! Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all, O, that way madness lies; let me shun that; No more of that.
Page 15 - 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.

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