The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Том 40Samuel Johnson C. Bathurst, 1779 |
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With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical Samuel Johnson. Never knew I any good in ' em , But to dofe my head like laudanum . We by play , as men by drinking , Pass our nights , to drive out thinking . From my ailments give me leifure , I ...
With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical Samuel Johnson. Never knew I any good in ' em , But to dofe my head like laudanum . We by play , as men by drinking , Pass our nights , to drive out thinking . From my ailments give me leifure , I ...
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... Never once could have the power To affect me half an hour ; Sooner would I write in bufkins , Mournful elegies on Blueskins . If I laugh at Whig and Tory ; I conclude à fortiori , All your eloquence will scarce . Drive me from my ...
... Never once could have the power To affect me half an hour ; Sooner would I write in bufkins , Mournful elegies on Blueskins . If I laugh at Whig and Tory ; I conclude à fortiori , All your eloquence will scarce . Drive me from my ...
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... never write again , If e'er I difoblige you , Dean , Should you compaffion show . Take those Iambicks which I wrote , When anger made me piping hot , And give them to your cook , To finge your fowl , or fave your paste , The next time ...
... never write again , If e'er I difoblige you , Dean , Should you compaffion show . Take those Iambicks which I wrote , When anger made me piping hot , And give them to your cook , To finge your fowl , or fave your paste , The next time ...
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... never mind Till coffee has her ftomach lin'd ; But , when her breakfast gives her courage , Then think on Stella's chicken - porridge ; I mean when Tiger * has been ferv'd , Or elfe poor Stella may be starv'd . May Bec have many an ...
... never mind Till coffee has her ftomach lin'd ; But , when her breakfast gives her courage , Then think on Stella's chicken - porridge ; I mean when Tiger * has been ferv'd , Or elfe poor Stella may be starv'd . May Bec have many an ...
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... Never to hold her tongue a minute , While all fhe prates has nothing in it ' ; Whole hours can with a coxcomb fit , And take his nonfenfe all for wit ; Her learning mounts to read a fong , But half the words pronouncing wrong ; Hath ...
... Never to hold her tongue a minute , While all fhe prates has nothing in it ' ; Whole hours can with a coxcomb fit , And take his nonfenfe all for wit ; Her learning mounts to read a fong , But half the words pronouncing wrong ; Hath ...
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againſt Ballyfpellin Becauſe beſt cafe chufe court Dean DEAN SWIFT dear defire Dick divine Doctor drefs dreft Dublin eyes fafe faid fame fate fatire fave fcorn feen fend fenfe fent ferve fhall fhew fhine fhould fide fince fing firft firſt fkies fome fons fools foon foul fpirits friends ftand ftill fubject fuch fure fwear give goddeſs grace hath head hear heart himſelf honour houſe IRISH juft juſt king lady laft laſt lefs loft lord madam MARBLE-HILL mattadore mind moſt Mufe muft muſt ne'er never nymph o'er paffion pleaſe poem poets Pope praiſe pride profe quadrille raiſe reafon reft rhyme rife round ſcene ſhall ſhe ſkill ſpeak ſtate ſtation STEPHEN DUCK ſtill Strephon ſtyle Swift thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou thought thouſand Tory Twill verfe vex'd virtue Whig whofe Whoſe wife worfe
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Страница 250 - dead, Than all the fnivelers round my bed. My good companions, never fear; ' For though you may miftake a year, Though your prognoftics run too faft, 145 They mu'ft be verify'd at laft. Behold the fatal day arrive ! *' How is the Dean ?''—" He 's juft alive." Now the departing prayer is read ; He hardly breathes — The Dean is dead.
Страница 276 - And, when his medicines do no good, Supports their minds with heavenly food, At which, however well intended, He hears the clergy are offended ; And grown fo bold behind his back, To call him hypocrite and quack. In his own church he keeps a feat ; Says grace before and after meat; And calls, without affefting airs, His
Страница 221 - Untwifts a wire, and from her gums A fet of teeth completely comes. Pulls out the rags contriv'd to prop Her flabby dugs, and down they drop. Proceeding on, the lovely Goddefs Unlaces next her fteel-ribb'd bodice, Which, by the operator's fkill, Prefs down the lumps, the hollows fill. Up goes her hand, and off
Страница 72 - four o'clock." The chairmen are not to be found, " Come, let us play the other round." Now all in hafte they huddle on Their hoods, their cloaks, and get them gone ; But, firft, the winner muft invite The company to-morrow night. Unlucky madam, left in tears ..(Who now again quadrille forfwears), With empty
Страница 254 - To fancy they could live a year ! " I find you 're but a ftranger here. " The Dean was famous in his time, " And had a kind of knack at rhyme. " His way of writing now is paft
Страница 149 - Do but hear on the Clergy how glib his tongue ran ; " And, madam, fays he, if fuch dinners you give, " You'll ne'er want for Parfons as long as you live. " I ne'er knew a Parfon without a good nofe;
Страница 14 - to wrap up fpice. Get all your verfes printed fair, Then let them well be dried ; And Curll muft have a fpecial care To leave the margin wide. Lend thefe to paper-fparing* Pope; And when he fits to write, No letter with an envelope Could give him more delight. When Pope has fill'd the margins round, Why then recall your loan
Страница 145 - And not among ladies to give themfelves airs." .? Thus argued my Lady, but argued in vain ; The Knight his opinion refolved to maintain. But Hannah f, who liften'd to all that was paft, . ] And could not endure fo vulgar a tafte, * A cant word in Ireland for a poor country clergyman. F.
Страница 145 - But a rabble of tenants, and rufty dull * Rums. " With Parfons what lady can keep herfelf clean ? . " I 'm all over daub'd when I fit by the Dean. ; " But if you will give us a barrack, my dear, , ! " The Captain, I 'm fure, will always come here; ,
Страница 64 - for not a line Of all the fatire fliall be mine. Compell'd by you to tag in rhymes The common flanders of the times, Of modern times, the guilt is yours. And me my innocence fecures. Unwilling Mufe, begin thy lay, The annals of a female day. By nature turn'd to play the rake