The Works of Dr. Jonathan Swift, Dean of St. Patrick's, Dublin, Том 16

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W. Bowyer, C. Bathurst, W. Owen, W. Strahan, J. Rivington, J. Hinton, L. Davis, and C. Reymers, R. Baldwin, J. Dodsley, S. Crowder and Company and B. Collins., 1765
 

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Стр. 102 - He showed me a little tract, which he designs to publish, and there your Excellency will see his whole scheme of a life academico-philosophical — I shall make you remember what you were — of a college founded for Indian scholars and missionaries...
Стр. 280 - Unhelp'd by practice, books, or art : For wit and humour differ quite ; That gives surprise, and this delight. Humour is odd, grotesque, and wild, Only by affectation spoil'd : 'Tis never by invention got, Men have it when they know it not.
Стр. 102 - I do humbly entreat your Excellency either to use such persuasions as will keep one of the first men in this kingdom, for learning and virtue, quiet at home, or assist him, by your credit, to compass his romantic design; which, however, is very noble and generous, and directly proper for a great person of your excellent education to encourage.
Стр. 102 - I discourage him by the coldness of courts and ministers, who will interpret all this as impossible and a vision; but nothing will do. And therefore I do humbly entreat your excellency, either to use such persuasions as will keep one of the first men in this kingdom for learning and virtue...
Стр. 41 - I have sat down to think of every amiable quality that could enter into the composition of a lady, and could not single out one, which she did not possess in as high a perfection as human nature is capable of. But as to your Lordship's own particular, as it is an...
Стр. 321 - Grace! impossible! what, dead! Of old age, too, and in his bed! And could that Mighty Warrior fall? And so inglorious, after all! Well...
Стр. 348 - On his own Deafness. Deaf, giddy, helpless, left alone, To all my Friends a Burthen grown, No more I hear my Church's Bell, Than if it rang out for my Knell: At Thunder now no more I start, Than at the Rumbling of a Cart: Nay, what's incredible, alack! I hardly hear a Woman's Clack.
Стр. 322 - Come hither, all ye empty things, Ye bubbles rais'd by breath of Kings; Who float upon the tide of state, Come hither, and behold your fate. Let pride be taught by this rebuke, How very mean a thing's a Duke; From all his ill-got honours flung, Turn'd to that dirt from whence he sprung.
Стр. 33 - I have no reason for being so merciful to him, but out of regard to the imputation you lie under. You do not in direct terms say you are not concerned with him ; but make it an argument of your innocence, that the Examiner has declared you have nothing to do with him.
Стр. 277 - tis eafy to defcry She wants affiftance more than I ; Yet Teems to feel my pains alone, And is a Stoic in her own. When, among fcholars, can we find So foft and yet fo firm a mind...

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