Love of Fame: The Universal Passion, in Seven Characteristical Satires

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J. and R. Tonson, 1741 - 175 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 68 - As sure as cards he to th' assembly comes, And is the furniture of drawing-rooms : When Ombre calls, his hand and heart are free, And, joined to two, he fails not — to make three ; Narcissus is the glory of his race ; For who does nothing with a better grace ? To deck my list by nature were designed Such shining expletives of human kind, Who want, .while through blank life they dream along, Sense to be right and passion to be wrong.
Pàgina 11 - Men should press forward in fame's glorious chase ; Nobles look backward, and so lose the race. Let high birth triumph ! What can be more great ? Nothing — but merit in a low estate.
Pàgina 92 - Some ladies' judgment in their features lies, And all their genius sparkles from their eyes. But hold, she cries, Lampooner ! have a care, Must I want common sense because I'm fair ! O no : see Stella ; her eyes shine as bright As if her tongue was never in the right : And yet what real learning, judgment, fire ! She seems...
Pàgina 93 - Man's rich with little, were his judgment true ; Nature is frugal, and her wants are few ; Those few wants answer'd, bring sincere delights ; But fools create themselves new appetites : Fancy, and pride, seek things at vast expense, Which relish not to reason, nor to sense.
Pàgina 164 - One to destroy, is murder by the law ; And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe : To murder thousands, takes a specious name, " War's glorious art,
Pàgina 150 - Methinks, we need not our short beings shun, And, thought to fly, contend to be undone. We need not buy our ruin with our crime, And give eternity to murder time. The love of gaming is the worst of ills ; With ceaseless storms the blacken'd soul it fills ; 1 Shakespeare VOL.
Pàgina 106 - When he has knock'd at his own skull in vain, To beauteous MARCIA often will repair With a dark text, to light it at the fair. O how his pious soul exults to find Such love for holy men in woman-kind ! Charm'd with her learning, with what rapture he Hangs on her bloom, like an industrious bee ; Hums round about her, and with all his power Extracts sweet wisdom from so fair a. flower...
Pàgina 173 - O blest ambition ! which can ne'er be vain. From one fam'd Alpine hill, which props the...
Pàgina 86 - A dearth of words a woman need not fear, But 'tis a task indeed to learn — to hear : In that the skill of conversation lies ; That shows, or makes, you both polite and wise.
Pàgina 113 - Cries Lyce, on the borders of threescore : Nought treads so silent as the foot of time ; Hence we mistake our autumn for our prime ; 'Tis greatly wise to know, before we're told, The melancholy news, that we grow old. Autumnal Lyce carries in her face Memento mori to each public place.

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