Works, Volume 1 (Google eBook)

Front Cover
Bell & Bradfute, J. Dickinson [and others], 1795
0 Reviews
  

What people are saying - Write a review

We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.

Related books

Selected pages

Other editions - View all

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 35 - Hence, bashful cunning ! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! I am your wife, if you will marry me ; If not, I'll die your maid : to be your fellow You may deny me ; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no.
Page xlvii - Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time! And all the muses still were in their prime When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm Our ears ; or like a Mercury to charm. Nature herself was proud of his designs, And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!
Page xlvii - Shakespeare, must enjoy a part. For though the poet's matter Nature be, His Art doth give the fashion; and that he Who casts to write a living line must sweat (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat Upon the muses...
Page 14 - 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 278 - Alas ! alas ! Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; And He that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy: how would you be, If He, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are ? O, think on that ; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made.
Page 29 - Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.
Page 104 - My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew"d, so sanded; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; Crook-kneed and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls ; Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly : Judge when you hear.
Page xlvi - Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance; Or crafty malice might pretend this praise, And think to ruin, where it seemed to raise.
Page 106 - The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report what my dream was.
Page 76 - Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it Love-in-idleness.

Bibliographic information