Anglia, Volume 25

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Page 189 - late, that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom, — is to die.
Page 11 - Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? O no! the apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.
Page 524 - I know not why I am so sad, It wearies me, you say it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuffe tis made
Page 13 - A woman I forswore; but I will prove Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; Thy grace being gained cures all disgrace in me.
Page 343 - I do not pretend, in giving you the History of this Royal Slave , to entertain my Reader with the Adventures of a feign'd Hero , whose Life and Fortunes Fancy may manage at the Poet's Pleasure ; nor in relating the Truth, design to adorn it with any Accidents, but such as
Page 359 - most harmless, inoffensive and virtuous Mistress. ‘Tis she alone, if she were permitted, that better instructs the World, than all the Inventions of Man: Religion would here but destroy that Tranquillity they possess by Ignorance; and Laws would but teach ‘em to know Offences, of which now they have no Notion.”
Page 524 - That my .Nerrissa shall be sworne on, is, Whether till the next night she had rather stay, Or go to bed now, being two houres to day: But were the day come, I
Page 18 - 138: O sir, we are defeated! all the works Are flown in fumo every glass is burst, Furnace and all rent down! as if a bolt Of thunder had been driven through the house; Retorts, receivers, pelicans, boltheads, All struck in shivers!
Page 25 - 440: And yet he was but esy of dispence He kepte that he wan in pestilence. For gold in phisik is a cordial, Therfore he lovede gold in special.
Page 89 - the sweet Blossoms, and made it always sweet and charming; and sure, the whole Globe of the World cannot shew so delightful a Place as this Grove was: Not all the Gardens of boasted Italy can produce a Shade to outvie this, which Nature has join'd with Art to render so exceeding fine;

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