The Satyrs of Decimus Junius Juvenalis: and of Aulus Persius Flaccus

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J. Tonson, 1735 - 296 pāgines
 

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Pāgina lxxxiii - How easy it is to call rogue and villain, and that wittily! but how hard to make a man appear a fool, a blockhead, or a knave, without using any of those opprobrious terms!
Pāgina ix - Poetry ;" and therein bespoke you to the world, wherein I have the right of a first discoverer.* When I was myself in the rudiments of my poetry, wi.thout name or reputation in the world, having rather the ambition of a writer, than the skill...
Pāgina xx - The English have only to boast of Spenser and Milton, who neither of them wanted either genius or learning to have been perfect poets; and yet both of them are liable to many censures.
Pāgina lxxiv - Scaliger says, only shows his white teeth, he cannot provoke me to any laughter. His urbanity, that is, his good manners, are to be commended ; but his wit is faint, and his salt, if I may dare to say so, almost insipid.
Pāgina 255 - Does some loose remnant of thy life devour. Live, while thou liv'st; for death will make us all A name, a nothing but an old wife's tale. Speak : wilt thou Avarice or Pleasure choose To be thy lord? Take one, and one refuse.
Pāgina lxxxiv - Absalom is, in my opinion, worth the whole poem: it is not bloody, but it is ridiculous enough; and he, for whom it was intended, was too witty to resent it as an injury.
Pāgina 136 - Intrust thy fortune to the powers above ; Leave them to manage for thee, and to grant What their unerring wisdom sees thee want : * In goodness, as in greatness, they excel ; Ah, that we loved ourselves but half so well...
Pāgina 59 - Chastity on Earth ; When in a narrow Cave, their common shade, The Sheep the Shepherds and their Gods were laid : When Reeds and Leaves, and Hides of Beasts were spread By Mountain Huswifes for their homely Bed, And Mossy Pillows rais'd, for the rude Husband's head.
Pāgina xxii - Juvenilia,' or verses written in his youth, where his rhyme is always constrained and forced, and comes hardly from him, at an age when the soul is most pliant, and the passion of love makes almost every man a rhymer though not a poet.
Pāgina xciii - Horace so very close that of necessity he must fall with him; and I may safely say it of this present age, that if we are not so great wits as Donne, yet certainly we are better poets.

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