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Сторінка 165 - The major made a fine disposition : on we marched, the men all in high spirits, to attack the gibbet where Gardel is hanging ; but turning down a narrow lane to the left, as it might be about there, in order to possess a...
Сторінка 283 - Countess of Crumple's, and the tall man's, this morning My dear Miss Godfrey, what trouble I have had to get you out ! Why, child, you are as tedious as a long morning. — Do you know, now, that of all places of public rendezvous I honour the Park ? — forty thousand million of times preferable to the play-house ! Don't you think so, my dear ? 1H.
Сторінка 259 - The firft want that occurred to me was a wig ; but this was too material an article to depend on my own judgment. I refolved to confult my friends. I told them the affair...
Сторінка 187 - Sir Jac. So, that is settled : but now to heal the other breach : Come, major, the gentlemen of your cloth seldom bear malice; let me interpose between you and jny son.
Сторінка 247 - I was lost in a labyrinth, and nobody to show me the road. One time, I thought of dying a Roman, which is truly a comfortable communion enough for one of us, but it would not do.
Сторінка 144 - Rob. In a word, then, this gentleman, having a good deal of wealth, is desirous of a little honour. Cape. How can I confer it ? Rob. Your pen may. Cape. I don't understand you.
Сторінка 182 - Sneak, to truckle and cringe, to fetch and to Enter SNEAK in a violent hurry. Sneak. Where's brother Bruin ! O Lord, brother, I have such a dismal story to tell you ' Bruin. What's the matter ? Sneak. Why, you know I went into the garden to look for my vife and the major, and there I hunted and hunted as sharp as if it had been for one of my...
Сторінка 337 - James's ? but that poft your lazinefs loft you. Gentlemen, he never brought them a robbery till the highwayman was going to be hang'd ; a birth till the chriftening was over ; nor a death till the hatchment was up.
Сторінка 129 - Then a fresh murmur through the rabble ran ; Boys, girls, wives, widows, all attack the man. " Sure never was brute beast so void of nature ! Have you no pity for the pretty creature ? To your own baby can you be unkind ? Here...
Сторінка 162 - No, no ; your eflences, elixirs, emetics, fweats, drops, and your paftes, and your pills, have filenced your peftles and mortars. Why, a fever, that would formerly have coft you a fortune, you may now cure for twelve penn'orth of powder. Lint. Or kill, Sir Jacob. Sir Jac.

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