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acquaintance admirable affected answered appeared asked beautiful better called CHAPTER character common conversation countenance cried dark Dawson dear desire dinner discovered door England entered expression eyes face fear feeling followed fortune give Glanville half hand happy head heard heart Heaven honour hope horse hour imagine interest Jonson Lady least leave less light live looked Lord Madame manner means meet mind moment Monsieur morning mother nature never night object observed once opened Paris passed passion Pelham perhaps person pleasure poor present received Reginald remember replied rest returned rose round seemed seen short side soon speak suffer suppose sure tell thing Thornton thought took true turned Tyrrell Vincent voice whole wish woman young
Page 221 - The times have been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end ; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools.
Page 371 - I can give not what men call love : But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above, And the Heavens reject not : The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow...
Page 9 - Tell arts they have no soundness, But vary by esteeming, Tell schools they want profoundness, And stand too much on seeming. If arts and schools reply, Give arts and schools the lie. Tell faith it's fled the city, Tell how the country erreth, Tell, manhood shakes off pity, Tell, virtue least preferreth.
Page 433 - It would have saved me much trouble, and your worthy friend, Mr. Fib Fakescrew, some pain, if you had left the door open — instead of shutting me up with your club, as you are pleased to call it!
Page 371 - But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above, And the Heavens reject not. The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow?— PB SHELLEY.
Page 214 - Of my mortality, my youth has acted Some scenes of vanity, drawn out at length By varied pleasures — sweetened in the mixture, But tragical in issue. Beauty, pomp, With every sensuality our giddiness Doth frame an idol — are inconstant friends When any troubled passion makes us halt On the unguarded castle of the mind.
Page 86 - ... golden wig (the duchesse never liked me to play with her hair) was on a block close by, and on another table was a set of teeth, d'une blancheur eblouissante.
Page 22 - SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May, If she think not well of me, What care I how fair she be?