Memoirs of the Court of England: From the Revolution in 1688 to the Death of George the Second, Volume 2

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Richard Bentley, 1843 - Great Britain
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Page 228 - Some natural tears he dropped, but wiped them soon : The world was all before him, where to choose His place of rest, and Providence his guide.
Page 386 - Lepell) walked with me three or four hours by moonlight, and we met no creature of any quality but the king, who gave audience to the vicechamberlain, all alone, under the garden wall.
Page 178 - Sir, he was a scoundrel, and a coward : a scoundrel for charging a blunderbuss against religion and morality ; a coward, because he had not resolution to fire it off himself, but left half a crown to a beggarly Scotchman to draw the trigger after his death...
Page 389 - Hervey, wo'uld you know the passion, You have kindled in my breast? Trifling is the inclination That by words can be expressed. " In my silence see the lover; True love is by silence known; In my eyes you'll best discover, All the power of your own.
Page 420 - Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than wit, Sappho can tell you how this man was bit...
Page 104 - I think Mr. St. John the greatest - -young man I ever knew; wit, capacity, beauty, quickness of apprehension, good learning, and an excellent taste; the best orator in the house of commons, admirable conversation, good nature, and good manners; generous, and a despiser of money.
Page 162 - I now hold the pen for my Lord Bolingbroke, who is reading your letter between two haycocks; but his attention is somewhat diverted, by casting his eyes on the clouds, not in admiration of what you say, but for fear of a shower.
Page 369 - What? that thing of silk, Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk? Satire or sense, alas ! can Sporus feel? Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?
Page 348 - ... not. For my own part, I could just as soon have talked Celtic or Sclavonian to them, as astronomy, and they would have understood me full as well : so I resolved to do better than speak to the purpose, and to please instead of informing them.
Page 166 - Algerian grot, Where, nobly pensive, St. John sat and thought; Where British sighs from dying Wyndham stole, And the bright flame was shot through Marchmont's soul. Let such, such only, tread this sacred floor, Who dare to love their country, and be poor.

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