Memoirs of the Court of England, from the Revolution in 1688 to the Death of George the Second, Volume 2

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Page 228 - Some natural tears he dropped, but wiped them soon : The world was all before him, where to choose His place of rest, and Providence his guide.
Page 386 - Lepell) walked with me three or four hours by moonlight, and we met no creature of any quality but the king, who gave audience to the vicechamberlain, all alone, under the garden wall.
Page 71 - Oxford enjoined him to study Spanish; and when, some time afterwards, he came again, and said that he had mastered it, dismissed him with this congratulation, "Then, sir, I envy you the pleasure of reading 'Don Quixote
Page 178 - Sir, he was a scoundrel, and a coward : a scoundrel for charging a blunderbuss against religion and morality ; a coward, because he had not resolution to fire it off himself, but left half a crown to a beggarly Scotchman to draw the trigger after his death...
Page 369 - Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings, This painted child of dirt that stinks and stings...
Page 104 - I think Mr. St. John the greatest - -young man I ever knew; wit, capacity, beauty, quickness of apprehension, good learning, and an excellent taste; the best orator in the house of commons, admirable conversation, good nature, and good manners; generous, and a despiser of money.
Page 348 - ... not. For my own part, I could just as soon have talked Celtic or Sclavonian to them, as astronomy, and they would have understood me full as well : so I resolved to do better than speak to the purpose, and to please instead of informing them.
Page 369 - 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.
Page 212 - Flavia the least and slightest toy, Can with resistless art employ. This fan in meaner hands would prove An engine of small force in love ; But she with such an air and mien, Not to be told, or safely seen, Directs its wanton motions so, That it wounds more than Cupid's bow : Gives coolness to the matchless dame, To every other breast a flame.
Page 82 - A soul supreme, in each hard instance tried, Above all pain, all passion, and all pride, The rage of power, the blast of public breath The lust of lucre, and the dread of death.

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