The Works of Thomas Moore: Intercepted letters; or, The twopenny postbag. The Fudge family in Paris. Tom Crib's memorial to congress

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Page 31 - Having quitted the Borders, to seek new renown, Is coming, by long Quarto stages, to Town; And beginning with ROKEBY (the job's sure to pay) Means to do all the Gentlemen's Seats on the way. Now, the Scheme is (though none of our hackneys can beat him) To start a fresh Poet through Highgate to meet him ; Who, by means of quick proofs — no revises — long coaches — May do a few Villas, before Sc — TT approaches — Indeed, if our Pegasus be not curst shabby, He'll reach, without found'ring,...
Page 92 - twixt pleasure and fright, That there came up — imagine, dear DOLL, if you can — A fine sallow, sublime, sort of Werter-faced man, With mustachios that gave (what we read of so oft) The dear Corsair expression, half savage, half soft, As Hyaenas in love may be fancied to look, or A something between ABELARD and old BLUCHER...
Page 236 - Entellus vires in ventum effudit, et ultro Ipse gravis graviterque ad terram pondere vasto Concidit : ut quondam cava concidit aut Erymantho, Aut Ida in magna, radicibus eruta pinus.
Page 241 - Poor Johnny Raw ! What madness could impel So rum a flat to face so prime a swell ? " To tell the truth, I rather think the Master enjoyed his own defeat.
Page 170 - Agreeably to this view of the subject, sweet may be said to be intrinsically pleasing, and fritter to be relatively pleasing ; which both are, in many cases, equally essential to those effects, which, in the art of cookery, correspond to that composite beauty, which it is the object of the painter and of the poet to create.
Page 143 - Which is fact, my dear DOLLY— we, girls of eighteen, And so slim — Lord, he'd think us not fit to be seen; And would like us much better as old — ay, as old As that Countess of DESMOND, of whom I've been told That she lived to much more than a hundred and ten, And was kill'd by a fall from a cherry-tree then! What a frisky old girl!
Page cxc - An ANGLER for duds carries a short staff in his hand, which is called a filch, having in the nab or head of it a ferine (that is to say a hole) into which, upon any piece of service, when he goes a filching, he putteth a hooke of iron, with which hook he angles at a window in the dead of night for shirts, smockes, or any other linen or woollen.
Page cxcviii - The sun had long since, in the lap Of Thetis, taken out his nap, And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn From black to red began to turn...
Page 233 - Kiddies2 stood — and with prelusive spar, And light manoeuvring, kindled up the war ! The One, in bloom of youth — a light-weight blade...
Page 89 - Such beauty — such grace — oh, ye sylphs of romance! Fly, fly to Titania, and ask her if she has One light-footed nymph in her train, that can dance Like divine Bigottini and sweet Fanny Bias ! Fanny Bias in Flora — dear creature ! — you'd swear When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle round, That her steps are of light, that her home is the air, And she only par complaisance touches the ground.

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