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answer appears bishop body called cause character church common copy court dear death duke earl England English epigrams eyes fair father folio fortune French friends give given grace half sheets hand happy hath head hear heart honour hope husband interest James John king known lady land late learned leave letters lines live London lord majesty manner means mind nature never night observed once original person poor present prince printed published queen reason received relating respect returned sent servant shew spirit suffered taken things thou thought took translation true truth turned unto whole wife wish write written
Seite 337 - Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found The warmest: welcome at an inn.
Seite 12 - Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet: Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah, wanton, will ye?
Seite 198 - I may challenge the whole orations of Demosthenes and Cicero, and of any more eminent orator, if Europe has furnished more eminent, to produce a single passage, superior to the speech of Logan, a Mingo chief, to Lord Dunmore, when governor of this state.
Seite 393 - And the winepress was trodden without the city, and blood came out of the winepress, even unto the horse bridles, by the space of a thousand and six hundred furlongs.
Seite 85 - Her bosom was uncovered, as all the English ladies have it, till they marry ; and she had on a necklace, of exceeding fine jewels ; her hands were small, her fingers long, and her stature neither tall nor low; her air was 1 He probably means rushes. stately ; her manner of speaking mild and obliging.
Seite 66 - The Queen was brought by water to Whitehall, At every stroke the oars did tears let fall ; More clung about the barge ; fish under water Wept out their eyes ofpearle, and swome blind after.
Seite 12 - I'll count your power not worth a pin: Alas, what hereby shall I win, If he gainsay me ? What if I beat the wanton boy With many a rod ? He will repay me with annoy, Because a god. Then sit thou safely on my knee, And let thy bower my bosom be, Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee; O Cupid, so thou pity me, Spare not, but play thee.
Seite 289 - ... would become, without the belief of a God^ how palsied would be human benevolence, were there not the sense...