Satires and Epistles |
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Page 36
... heav'n , to bless those days , preserve my friend , Preserve him social , chearful , and serene , And just as rich as when he serv'd a queen . A. Whether that blessing be deny'd or giv'n , Thus far was right , the rest belongs to heav'n ...
... heav'n , to bless those days , preserve my friend , Preserve him social , chearful , and serene , And just as rich as when he serv'd a queen . A. Whether that blessing be deny'd or giv'n , Thus far was right , the rest belongs to heav'n ...
Page 48
... heav'n it last ! ( cries Swift ! ) as you go on ; I wish to God this house . had been your own : Pity to build , without a son or wife ; Why , you'll enjoy it only all your life . ' Well , if the use be mine , can it concern one ...
... heav'n it last ! ( cries Swift ! ) as you go on ; I wish to God this house . had been your own : Pity to build , without a son or wife ; Why , you'll enjoy it only all your life . ' Well , if the use be mine , can it concern one ...
Page 55
... Just less than Jove , and much above a king ; Nay , half in heav'n , except ( what's mighty odd ) A fit of vapours clouds this demy - god ? 180 SATIRES AND EPISTLES . IV . To Mr. Murray . SATIRES AND EPISTLES . III . 55.
... Just less than Jove , and much above a king ; Nay , half in heav'n , except ( what's mighty odd ) A fit of vapours clouds this demy - god ? 180 SATIRES AND EPISTLES . IV . To Mr. Murray . SATIRES AND EPISTLES . III . 55.
Page 63
... heav'n's own oracles from altars heard . Wonder of Kings ! like whom , to mortal eyes None e'er has risen , and none e'er shall rise . Just in one instance , be it yet confest Your people , Sir , are partial in the rest Foes to all ...
... heav'n's own oracles from altars heard . Wonder of Kings ! like whom , to mortal eyes None e'er has risen , and none e'er shall rise . Just in one instance , be it yet confest Your people , Sir , are partial in the rest Foes to all ...
Page 65
... heav'n can bound , Now serpent - like in prose he sweeps the ground , In quibbles angel and archangel join , And God the Father turns a school - divine . Not that I'd lop the beauties from his book , Like slashing Bentley with his desp ...
... heav'n can bound , Now serpent - like in prose he sweeps the ground , In quibbles angel and archangel join , And God the Father turns a school - divine . Not that I'd lop the beauties from his book , Like slashing Bentley with his desp ...
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Common terms and phrases
Addison allusion Arbuthnot authors Bavius Ben Jonson Bishop Blackmore Boileau Bolingbroke Budgel Carruthers character Church Cibber court died Dryden Duke Dunciad ears Edward Wortley Montagu England English Epil Essay ev'n ev'ry eyes fame father fools genius George George Bubb Dodington George II grace heart heav'n honour Imitation of Horace Johnson Juvenal king knave Lady laugh learned letters libeller live Lord Bolingbroke Lord Fanny Lord Hervey lov'd Matthew Tindal moral muse ne'er never noble numbers o'er Parnassian party Pindaric pleas'd poems poet poet's poetical poetry poor Pope Pope's satire pow'r praise Prince Prol Queen quincunx rhyme Satires and Epistles satirist says Sir Robert Sir Robert Walpole sneer song soul Spence Swift taste thou thought thro Tory truth Twickenham verse vice virtue Walpole Warburton's Warton Whig wife write
Popular passages
Page 30 - Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer ; Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike...
Page 23 - tis past a doubt, All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out: Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, They rave, recite, and madden round the land. What walls can guard me, or what shades can hide? They pierce my thickets, through my grot they glide, By land, by water, they renew the charge, They stop the chariot, and they board the barge.
Page 30 - Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he ? What though my name stood rubric on the walls Or plaster'd posts, with claps, in capitals ? Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers...
Page 33 - Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad, In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies, Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies. His wit all see-saw, between that and this, « Now high, now low, now master .up, now miss, And he himself one vile Antithesis.
Page 33 - That Fop, whose pride affects a patron's name, Yet absent, wounds an author's honest fame: Who can your merit selfishly approve, And show the sense of it without the love...
Page 145 - I remember the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, "Would he ' had blotted a thousand," which they thought a malevolent speech.
Page 27 - Say, for my comfort, languishing in bed, 'Just so immortal Maro held his head'; And, when I die, be sure you let me know Great Homer died three thousand years ago. Why did I write? what sin to me unknown Dipp'd me in ink, my parents', or my own?
Page 33 - Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys: So well-bred spaniels civilly delight In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.
Page 119 - London, much inhabited by writers of small histories, dictionaries, and temporary poems; whence any mean production is called Grub-street" — , " lexicographer, a writer of dictionaries, a harmless drudge.
Page 144 - whispers through the trees": If crystal streams "with pleasing murmurs creep," The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with "sleep": Then, at the last and only couplet fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.