Memoirs of the court of England from ... 1688 to the death of George the second

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1843
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Page 369 - Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys : So well-bred spaniels civilly delight In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. Eternal...
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 421 - The next day, while I was heated with what I had heard, I wrote a letter to Mr. Addison, to let him know that I was not unacquainted with this behaviour of his; that, if I was to speak severely of him in return for it, it should...
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 372 - Soft were my numbers ; who could take offence While pure description held the place of sense ? Like gentle Fanny's was my flowery theme, ' A painted mistress, or a purling stream.
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 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 219 - O Lord, thou knowest how busy I must be this day. If I forget thee, do not thou forget me," And with that rose up and cried, "March on, boys!
Page 212 - Flavia the least and slightest toy, Can with resistless art employ. This fan in meaner hands would prove An engine of small force in love ; But she with such an air and mien, Not to be told, or safely seen, Directs its wanton motions so, That it wounds more than Cupid's bow : Gives coolness to the matchless dame, To every other breast a flame.
Page 199 - I said to my heart, between sleeping and waking, ' Thou wild thing that always art leaping or aching, What black, brown, or fair, in what clime, in what nation, By turns has not taught thee a pit-a-pat-ation ? ' " Thus accused, the wild thing gave this sober reply : ' See, the heart without motion, though Celia pass by ! Not the beauty she has, not the wit that she borrows, Give the eye any joys, or the heart any sorrows. ' When our Sappho appears, — she, whose wit so refined I am forced to...

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