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acquaintance admiration affection afterwards amiable Anecdotes appeared Asmodeus Bage beautiful betwixt Bradshaigh Castle of Otranto celebrated censure character circumstances Clarissa composition criticism Cumberland daughter degree Diable Boiteux distinguished Dr Johnson dramatic eminent England English excellent Fair Syrian father favour feelings fiction Fielding Fielding's fortune Garrick genius Gil Blas Goldsmith honour Horace Walpole human humour imagination incident interest labours lady Laurence Sterne letter literary literature living Lord manners master Memoirs merit mind moral Mysteries Mysteries of Udolpho narrative nature never novel observed Old English Baron painted Pamela passages passions peculiar perhaps person racter Radcliffe Radcliffe's reader remarkable respect Richard Cumberland Richardson ridicule Robert Bage Roderick Random romance Sage satire says scenes seems sentiments Sir Charles Grandison Smollett society spirit Sterne story style success supernatural tale talents taste tion translation truth Walpole write
Сторінка 387 - HENCE, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly ! There's nought in this life sweet, If man were wise to see't, But only melancholy ; Oh ! sweetest melancholy.
Сторінка 387 - Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes, A sigh that piercing mortifies, A look that's fasten'd to the ground, A tongue chain'd up without a sound ! Fountain heads and pathless groves, Places which pale passion loves ! Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are warmly housed save bats and owls ! A midnight bell, a parting groan ! These are the sounds we feed upon ; Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley ; Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.
Сторінка 242 - ... a message from poor Goldsmith, that he was in great distress ; and, as it was not in his power to come to me, begging that I would come to him as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him directly.
Сторінка 154 - No man will be a sailor who has contrivance enough to get himself into a jail ; for being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being drowned.
Сторінка 111 - H. Fielding has given a true picture of himself and his first wife in the characters of Mr. and Mrs. Booth, some compliments to his own figure excepted ; and I am persuaded several of the incidents he mentions are real matters of fact.
Сторінка 307 - I waked one morning in the beginning of last June from a dream, of which all I could recover was, that I had thought myself in an ancient castle (a very natural dream for a head filled like mine with Gothic story) and that on the uppermost banister of a great staircase I saw a gigantic hand in armour. In the evening I sat down and began to write without knowing in the least what I intended to say or relate.
Сторінка 80 - I am sorry for H. Fielding's death, not only as I shall read no more of his writings, but I believe he lost more than others, as no man enjoyed life more than he did, though few had less reason to do so, the highest of his preferment being raking in the lowest sinks of vice and misery.
Сторінка 157 - He wrote an account of them ; but 'twas nothing but the account of his miserable feelings. I met Smelfungus in the grand portico of the Pantheon : he was just coming out of it. 'Tis nothing but a huge cockpit,* said he.
Сторінка 114 - In this situation, as I could not conquer Nature, I submitted entirely to her, and she made as great...