The Works of the Rev. Dr. Jonathan Swift ...

C. Bathurst, W. Strahan, 1784

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Pàgina 89 - Not thinking it is levee-day, And find his honour in a pound, Hemm'd by a triple circle round, Chequer'd with ribbons blue and green: How should I thrust myself between?
Pàgina 164 - Thou, Stella, wert no longer young, When first for thee my harp was strung, Without one word of Cupid's darts, Of killing eyes, or bleeding hearts ; With friendship and esteem possest, I ne'er admitted Love a guest.
Pàgina 143 - Preferring his regard for me Before his credit, or his fee. Some formal visits, looks, and words, What mere humanity affords, I meet perhaps from three or four, From whom I once expected more ; Which those who tend the sick for pay Can act as decently as they : But no obliging tender friend To help at my approaching end. My life is now a burden grown To others, ere it be my own.
Pàgina 27 - tis the same Thing, the Chaplain will be here anon. So the Chaplain came in; now the Servants say, he is my Sweet-heart, Because he's always in my Chamber, and I always take his Part; So, as the Devil would have it, before I was aware, out I blunder'd, Parson, said I, can you cast a Nativity, when a Body's plunder'd? (Now you must know, he hates to be call'd Parson, like the Devil.) Truly, says he, Mrs.
Pàgina 38 - And travels not, but runs a race. From Paris gazette a-la-main, This day arriv'd, without his train, Mordanto in a week from Spain. A messenger comes all a-reek Mordanto at Madrid to seek; He left the town above a week.
Pàgina 27 - You are no Text for my Handling, so take that from me : I was never taken for a Conjurer before, I'd have you to know.
Pàgina 24 - Then the Bell rung, and I went down to put my Lady to Bed, And, God knows, I thought my Money was as safe as my Maidenhead.
Pàgina 118 - To form and cultivate her mind. He hardly knew, till he was told, Whether the nymph were young or old ; Had met her in a public place...
Pàgina 51 - Tis now no kettle, but a bell. A wooden jack, which had almost Lost by disuse the art to roast, A sudden alteration feels, Increased by new intestine wheels ; And, what exalts the wonder more, The number made the motion slower.
Pàgina 307 - Like the labourers of Babel. Now I am a dog, or cow, I can bark, or I can low; I can bleat, or I can sing, Like the warblers of the spring. Let the lovesick bard complain...

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