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acquire addrefs affert againſt almoſt amiable anfwer beautiful becauſe beſt caufe character eafe eafy England Engliſh faid falfe fame favour fcene feem feen felf fenfe fent fentiments fhall fhew fhould fincere fingle fings firft firſt fociety folid fome foul fpeak fpirit France French ftatues fubject fucceed fuch fuperior fuppofe fure grace Greek himſelf honour idea imagination impoffible intereſting Italian Italy judgement juft Juliet laft language lark lefs LETTER Lord Cheſterfield's Lord Lucan mafter manners mean merit MO MOMO moft moſt Mufic muft muſt myſelf nation nature never paffion painted Paris perfon pleafe pleaſe pleaſure poet poffefs pofitive poliſhed praiſe prefent racter reafon refpect rience ſay ſcarce Shakspeare ſhall ſhe ſpeak ſtay tafte taſte thefe theſe thing thofe thoſe thou thought tion truth underſtanding univerfally uſeful Voltaire whofe women write young
Seite 84 - For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood; If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze By the sweet power of music...
Seite 190 - ... this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
Seite 42 - Wilt thou be gone ? it is not yet near day : It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear ; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree : Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Seite 148 - Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by it ? Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Seite 40 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale ; look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Seite 147 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes ; and thus far hear me, Cromwell...
Seite 51 - Give me my Romeo: and when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
Seite 197 - Frenchwoman ; it is in the power of intellectual irritation. She will draw wit out of a fool. She strikes with such address the chords of self-love, that she gives unexpected vigour and agility to fancy, and electrifies a body that appeared non-electric.
Seite 194 - ... them in ; or to place them in an attitude, in which they have not been already placed. But talking of a nation, if one did not say something about so considerable a part of it, the subject must appear mutilated and imperfect. As brevity is the soul of wit...
Seite 176 - I'll do them juftice. Let every man who knows that nation fpeak of it as he found it; if he lived in their intimacy for years (as I did), and if he found them ill-natured, ill-mannered, treacherous, and cowardly, let him fpeak his mind. I quarrel with no man who judges for himfelf, and who fpsaks the truth.