Lectures on the English Comic Writers

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Wiley and Putnam, 1845 - 222 страници

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Страница 60 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her. Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Страница 22 - The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, That it had its head bit off by its young.
Страница 35 - tis certain ; very sure, very sure : death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all ; all shall die.
Страница 62 - Compar'd to that was next her chin (Some bee had stung it newly ;) But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face, I durst no more upon them gaze Than on the sun in July. Her mouth so small, when she does speak, Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did break, That they might passage get ; But she so handled still the matter, They came as good as ours, or better, And are not spent a whit.
Страница 14 - Compound for sins they are inclined to By damning those they have no mind to.
Страница 25 - ... expression ; sometimes it lurketh under an odd similitude ; sometimes it is lodged in a sly question, in a smart answer, in a quirkish reason, in a shrewd intimation, in cunningly diverting or cleverly retorting an objection ; sometimes it is couched in a bold scheme of speech, in a tart irony, in a lusty hyperbole, in a startling metaphor, in a plausible reconciling of contradictions, or in acute nonsense...
Страница 57 - tis my outward soul, Viceroy to that, which then to heaven being gone, Will leave this to control And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution.
Страница 65 - Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing, Happier than the happiest king! All the fields which thou dost see, All the plants belong to thee; All that summer hours produce, Fertile made with early juice. Man for thee does sow and plough; Farmer he, and landlord thou!
Страница 12 - 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...
Страница 65 - Drinks up the sea, and when he 's done. The Moon and Stars drink up the Sun: They drink and dance by their own light, They drink and revel all the night: Nothing in Nature 's sober found, But an eternal health goes round.

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