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againſt Ballyſpellin Becauſe beſt better bring clouds comes court dead Dean dear death Dick divine Doctor dread ends EPIGRAMS eyes face fair fame fate fear firſt foes fools foul friends gave give grace grown half hand hath head hear heart hope houſe hundred Italy juſt keep king lady land laſt learning leave light lines live looks lord madam mean mind moſt Muſe muſt nature ne'er never night nymph o'er once pleaſe poem poets poor praiſe pride race reaſon reſt riſe round ſay ſee ſeen ſenſe ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome ſtand ſtate ſtill ſuch ſure Swift talk tell thee theſe thing thoſe thou thought thouſand true turn uſe verſe virtues Whoſe wiſe write
Strana 282 - When beasts could speak, (the learned say They still can do so every day,) It seems, they had religion then, As much as now we find in men. It happen'd, when a plague broke out, (Which therefore made them more devout...
Strana 157 - The servants amaz'd are scarce ever able To keep off their eyes, as they wait at the table ; And Molly and I have thrust in our nose, To peep at the captain in all his fine clo'es. Dear madam, be sure he's a fine spoken man, Do but hear on the clergy how glib his tongue ran ; And, 'madam,' says he, 'if such dinners you give, You'll ne'er want for parsons as long as you live.
Strana 156 - Your ladyship lifts up the sash to be seen (For sure I had dizen'd you out like a queen). The captain, to show he is proud of the favour, Looks up to your window, and cocks up his beaver. (His beaver is cock'd ; pray, madam, mark that, For a captain of...
Strana 154 - But, madam, I beg you contrive and invent, And worry him out till he gives his consent.
Strana 255 - Rochefoucault his Maxims drew From Nature, I believe them true ; They argue no corrupted mind In him ; the fault is in mankind. This maxim more than all the rest Is thought too base for human breast, ' In all distresses of our friends We first consult our private ends, While Nature, kindly bent to ease us, Points out some circumstance to please us.
Strana 154 - I can't sleep a wink : For if a new crotchet comes into my brain, I can't get it out, though I'd never so fain.
Strana 1 - THIS day, whate'er the Fates decree, Shall still be kept with joy by me : This day, then, let us not be told That you are sick and I grown old, Nor think on our approaching ills, And talk of spectacles and pills : To-morrow will be time enough To hear such mortifying stuff.
Strana 21 - Give no more to every guest, Than he's able to digest; Give him always of the prime; And but little at a time. Carve to all but just enough: Let them neither starve nor stuff: And, that you may have your due, Let your neighbours carve for you.