Rule a Wife and Have a Wife: A Comedy

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J. Bell, 1777 - 66 стор.

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Сторінка 13 - I thank you, A little troubles me : the least touch for it, Had but my breeches got it, it had contented me.
Сторінка 60 - Your worth and virtue ; and, as I did grow More and more apprehensive,* I did thirst To see the man so prais'd. But yet all this Was but a maiden-longing, to be lost As soon as found ; till, sitting in my window, Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god, I thought, (but it was you,) enter our gates. My blood flew out and back again, as fast As I had puff'd...
Сторінка 25 - tis so ; and when time is full, That thou hast well discharged this heavy trust, Laid on so weak a one, I will again With joy receive thee ; as I live, I will ; Nay, weep not, gentle boy ; 'tis more than time Thou didst attend the princess.
Сторінка 18 - Shrink not, worthy sir, But add your father to you : In whose name, We'll waken all the gods, and conjure up The rods of vengeance, the abused people ; Who, like to raging torrents, shall swell high, And so begirt the dens of these male-dragons, That, through the strongest safety, they shall beg For mercy at your sword's point.
Сторінка 24 - twere no worse : ye talk of revelations ; I have got a revelation will reveal me An arrant coxcomb whilst I live. Fred. What is't? Thou hast lost nothing ! John. No, I have got, I tell thee. Fred, What hast thou got ? John. One of the infantry, a child. Fred. How ! John. A chopping child, man ! Fred. Give you joy, sir. John. A lump of lewdness, Frederick ; that's the truth on't.
Сторінка 40 - Now you may take that little right I have To this poor kingdom. Give it to your joy; For I have no joy in it.
Сторінка 52 - Alas, my lord, my life is not a thing Worthy your noble thoughts ! 'tis not a life, 'Tis but a piece of childhood thrown away.
Сторінка 25 - But since I am to part with you, my lord, And none knows whether I shall live to do More service for you...
Сторінка 27 - Thou art not capable of other grief; Thy brows and cheeks are smooth as waters be, When no [b]reath troubles them: believe me boy, Care seeks out wrinkled brows, and hollow eyes, And builds himself caves to abide in them.
Сторінка 40 - And laugh'd upon it, made it but a mirth, And flung it by? Do I live now like him, Under this tyrant King, that languishing Hears his sad bell and sees his mourners? Do I Bear all this bravely, and must sink at length Under a woman's falsehood?

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