The Works of the Late Ingenious Mr. George Farquhar: Containing All His Poems, Letters, Essays and Comedies, Publish'd in His Life-time. In Two Volumes
J. Clarke, John Rivington, James Rivington and James Fletcher, S. Crowder and Company T. Caslon [and 3 others in London], 1760
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Page 22 - The appearance of a stranger in a country church draws as many gazers as a blazing star; no sooner he comes into the cathedral, but a train of whispers runs buzzing round the congregation in a moment: "Who is he? Whence comes he? Do you know him?
Page 36 - Boniface, what's the news ? Bon. There's another gentleman below, as the saying is, that hearing you were but two, would be glad to make the third man, if you would give him leave. Aim. What is he? Bon. A clergyman, as the saying is. Aim. A clergyman ! is he really a clergyman ? or is it only his travelling name, as my friend the captain has it ? Bon.
Page 10 - Come, come, we are the men of intrinsic value who can strike our fortunes out of ourselves, whose worth is independent of accidents in life, or revolutions in government: we have heads to get money and hearts to spend it.
Page 28 - If the wench would promise to die when the money were spent, egad, one would marry her; but the fortune may go off in a year or two, and the wife may live — Lord knows how long.
Page 19 - O matrimony! He tosses up the clothes with a barbarous swing over his shoulders, disorders the whole economy of my bed, leaves me half naked, and my whole night's comfort is the tuneable serenade of that wakeful nightingale, his nose!
Page 71 - Tis very late, sister ; no news of your spouse yet? Mrs, Sul. No ; I'm condemned to be alone till towards four, and then, perhaps, I may be executed with his company. Dor. Well, my dear, I'll leave you to your rest; you'll go directly to bed, I suppose. Mrs.
Page 19 - ... about the room, like sick passengers in a storm, he comes flounce into bed, dead as a salmon into a fishmonger's basket; his feet cold as ice, his breath hot as a furnace, and his hands and his face as greasy as his flannel night-cap.
Page 31 - What sort of livery has the footman? SCRUB. Livery! Lord, Madam, I took him for a captain, he's so bedizened with lace!
Page 23 - ... the whole church my concern by my endeavouring to hide it; after the sermon, the whole town gives me to her for a lover, and by persuading the lady that I am a-dying for her, the tables are turned, and she in good earnest falls in love with me.
Page 16 - Arch. I hope not. Cher. You may depend upon't. Arch. Upon what? Cher. That you're very impudent. Arch. That you're very handsome. Cher. That you're a Footman. Arch. That you're an Angel. Cher. I shall be rude. Arch. So shall I. Cher. Let go my Hand. Arch. Give me a Kiss.