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acquaintance Æneid amusement appeared Asem Ballymahon beauty Bishop Percy Boswell's British Magazine Burchell called character child circumstances comedy Covent Garden cried daughter David Rizzio doubt edition English essay favour Flamborough fond fortune Francis Newbery gave genius gentleman girls give going guineas happy heart heaven History honour Jenkinson John Newbery Johnson ladies learned letter live Livy look Madam Manetho manner mind Miss Moses nature never Newbery observed OLIVER GOLDSMITH Olivia once opinion passion perceived Percy Pergolese perhaps pleased pleasure poem poet poetry poor pounds present Prior published racter received replied returned scarce seemed Sir William soon Squire Stoops to Conquer story sure taste tell thing Thornhill thought tion town Vicar of Wakefield virtue whole wife word wretched writing young
Page 99 - Turn, gentle hermit of the dale, And guide my lonely way To where yon taper cheers the vale With hospitable ray. " For here forlorn and lost I tread, With fainting steps and slow ; Where wilds immeasurably spread, Seem lengthening as I go.'" " Forbear, my son," the hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom.
Page 99 - No flocks that range the valley free, To slaughter I condemn: Taught by that Power that pities me, I learn to pity them : "But from the mountain's grassy side A guiltless feast I bring; A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, And water from the spring. "Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego ; All earth-born cares are wrong; Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.
Page 45 - No man was more foolish when he had not a pen in his hand, or more wise when he had.
Page 20 - I received one morning 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. I accordingly went as soon as I was...
Page 183 - When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds, too late, that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away '( The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom, — is to die.
Page 381 - She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners...
Page 456 - The king has lately been pleased to make me Professor of Ancient History in a Royal Academy of Painting, which he has just established, but there is no salary annexed ; and I took it rather as a compliment to the institution, than any benefit to myself. Honours to one in my situation are something like ruffles to a man that wants a shirt.
Page 372 - Either there is a civil strife in heaven, Or else the world, too saucy with the gods, Incenses them to send destruction.