Miscellanies (second Series), Том 2

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Dodd, Mead, 1901 - 277 стор.

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Сторінка 96 - like a distressed prince who calls in a powerful neighbour to his aid. I was undone by my auxiliary. When I had once called him in, I could not subsist without dependence on him.
Сторінка 54 - It used to cost the rest a shilling, for they drank wine ; but I hod a cut of meat for sixpence, and bread for a penny, and gave the waiter a penny ; so that I was quite well served, nay, better than the rest, for they gave the waiter nothing.
Сторінка 85 - Mordanto in a week from Spain. A messenger comes all a-reek, Mordanto at Madrid to seek ; He left the town above a week. Next day the post-boy winds his horn, And rides through Dover in the morn : Mordanto's landed from Leghorn. Mordanto gallops on alone, The roads are with his followers strown, This breaks a girth, and that a bone.
Сторінка 30 - If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me, and breaths that I defied not...
Сторінка 87 - He has taken care of us to the utmost of his ability." " God has so blessed his presence and his regulations in the land, that others would not in many years have accomplished what he has brought about in one.
Сторінка 248 - Old books, old wine, old Nankin blue ; — All things, in short, to which belong The charm, the grace, that Time makes strong,All these I prize, but (entre nous) Old friends are best ! TO LAWRENCE BARRETT.
Сторінка 92 - ... as to call myself a vicious man; but at the same time must confess my life is at best but pardonable. And with no greater character than this, a man would make but an indifferent progress in attacking prevailing and fashionable vices, which Mr. Bickerstaff has done with a freedom of spirit that would have lost both its beauty and efficacy had it been pretended to by Mr. Steele.
Сторінка 104 - I am, indeed, much more proud of his long-continued friendship, than I should be of the fame of being thought the author of any writings which he himself is capable of producing.
Сторінка 158 - t has been held by many, that As Montaigne, playing with his cat, Complains she thought him but an ass, Much more she would Sir Hudibras.
Сторінка 63 - Villainy, fear, and conscience are mixed in yellow and livid on his countenance. His lips are contracted by tremor, his face advances as eager to lie, his legs step bade as thinking to make his escape.

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