The Censor, Том 1

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Сторінка 26 - It seems as nat'ra1 as to be born. Groans, and convulsions, and discolour'd faces, Friends weeping round us, blacks, and obsequies, Make death a dreadful thing. The pomp of death Is far more terrible than death itself.
Сторінка 172 - Understanding at last groweth too weak to rise up again. I will suppose this fault was less frequent when Solon made it one of his Laws, That it was Lawful to Kill a Magistrate if he was found Drunk. Such a Liberty taken in this Age, either in the Parliament or out of it, would do terrible Execution.
Сторінка 172 - Nothing fure is a greater enemy to the brain than too much moifture ; it can the leaft of any thing bear the being continually fteeped. And it may be faid, that thought may be refembled to fome creatures which can only live in a diy country.
Сторінка 100 - Catalina,' spoken by Sylla's Ghost, was writ after I parted with my friend at the Devil tavern. I had drank well that night, and had brave notions. There is one scene in that play which I think is flat. I resolve to drink no more water with my wine.
Сторінка 102 - I remember that I did not succeed in any one Composition for a whole Winter; it was that Winter honest Ralph the Drawer died, and when I and my Boys drank bad Wine at the Devil.
Сторінка 196 - ... his active zeal for the good of his country, and the share he had in conveying the supreme power to an illustrious family famous for being friends to mankind, are subjects easy to be enlarged upon, but incapable of being exhausted.
Сторінка 183 - ... things, nor well without them. If we be hungry, we are in pain ; and if we eat to the full, we are uneafy.
Сторінка 169 - ... is, the vanity of faying he did not fpill one drop of the precious liquor ! Abfurd wretch ! And yet how many of this clafs are to be met with, who work the day, the week, and year round, without any feafon of reft and relaxation. The whole Calendar is turned into holidays with the Drunkard, and his Jubilee returns with every fun that rifes. But what of all the extravagancies of this vicious...

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