The Works of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Dean of St. Patrick's, Dublin: Including the Whole of His Posthumous Pieces, Letters, &c, Svazek 8

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Strana 124 - And born to write, converse, and live with ease: Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Strana 264 - Tis all on me an usurpation. I have no title to aspire ; Yet, when you sink, I seem the higher; In Pope I cannot read a line, But with a sigh I wish it mine : When he can in one couplet fix More sense than I can do in six, It gives me such a jealous fit, I cry :
Strana 72 - And chose me for an humble friend; Would take me in his coach to chat, And question me of this and that; As,
Strana 272 - tis a shocking sight, And he's engaged to-morrow night; My Lady Club will take it ill, If he should fail her at quadrille. He loved the Dean— (I lead a heart,) But dearest friends, they say, must part. His time was come: he ran his race; We hope he's in a better place.
Strana 271 - My female friends, whose tender hearts Have better learn'd to act their parts, Receive the news in doleful dumps, 'The Dean is dead, (and what is trumps?) Then Lord have mercy on his soul.
Strana 72 - How think you of our friend the Dean? I wonder what some people mean; My lord and he are grown so great, Always together tete-d-tete.
Strana 53 - And, with small change, a pulpit grew. The porringers, that in a row Hung high, and made a glittering show, To a less noble substance chang'd, Were now but leathern buckets rang'd.
Strana 264 - Tis all on me an Usurpation. I have no Title to aspire; Yet, when you sink, I seem the higher. In Pope I cannot read a line, But with a Sigh I wish it mine ; When He can in one Couplet fix More Sense than I can do in six; It gives me such a jealous Fit, I cry "Pox take him and his Wit!
Strana 51 - And then the hospitable sire Bid goody Baucis mend the fire ; While he from out the chimney took A flitch of bacon off the hook, And freely from the fattest side Cut out large slices to be fried ; Then stepp'd aside to fetch them drink, Fill'da large jug up to the brink, And saw it fairly twice go round...
Strana 45 - Tis an old maxim in the schools, That flattery's the food of fools; Yet now and then your men of wit Will condescend to take a bit.

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