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Page 89 - Distrust the condiment that bites so soon; But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault To add a double quantity of salt; Four times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown, And twice with vinegar procured from town; And lastly o'er the flavoured compound toss A magic soupcon of anchovy sauce.
Page 210 - And a nice little boy had a nice cake of soap, Worthy of washing the hands of the Pope. One little boy more A napkin bore, Of the best white diaper, fringed with pink, And a Cardinal's Hat mark'd in permanent ink.
Page 212 - His pinions droop'd — he could hardly stand, — His head was as bald as the palm of your hand ; His eye so dim, So wasted each limb, That, heedless of grammar, they all cried, "THAT'S HIM ! That's the scamp that has done this scandalous thing ! That's the thief that has got my Lord Cardinal's Ring!
Page 210 - The Devil must be in that little Jackdaw!' The feast was over, the board was...
Page 209 - THE Jackdaw sat on the Cardinal's chair ! Bishop, and abbot, and prior were there ; Many a monk, and many a friar, Many a knight, and many a squire, With a great many more of lesser degree, — In sooth a goodly company ; And they served the Lord Primate on bended knee.
Page 34 - O'er the bosom softly stealing, — Chasten'd grief, delicious woe ! Oh ! how sweet at eve regaining Yon lone tower's sequester'd shade — Sadly mute and uncomplaining " — Yow ! — yeough ! — yeough ! — yow ! — yow ! yelled a hapless sufferer from beneath the table.
Page 61 - I know not how to thank you. Rude I am In speech and manners : never till this hour Stood I in such a presence...
Page 262 - ... wool at Christmas, beg Dominie Dumps's boys a holiday, and dine upon sprats on Good Friday ! A low moan from the subject of these eulogies seemed to intimate that the enumeration of her good deeds was not altogether lost on her, — that the parting spirit felt and rejoiced in the testimony. ' She was too good for earth ! ' continued Sir Guy. ' Ye-ye-yes ! ' sobbed Beatrice. ' I did not deserve her !
Page 284 - Lord Tomnoddy stept into his cab — Dark rifle green, with a lining of drab ; Through street and through square, His high-trotting mare, Like one of Ducrow's, goes pawing the air. Adown Piccadilly and Waterloo Place Went the high-trotting mare at a very quick pace ; She produced some alarm, But did no great harm, Save frightening a nurse with a child on her arm, Spattering with clay Two urchins at play...