The History of Portia: Written by a Lady. ...

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R. Withy; J. Pottinger; J. Wilkie; and J. Cooke, 1759

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Seite 60 - 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.
Seite 35 - Tis not a set of features, or complexion, The tincture of a skin that I admire. Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense.
Seite 206 - Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute With conjugal caresses : from his lip Not words alone pleas'd her. O! when meet now Such pairs, in love and mutual honour join'd...
Seite 67 - O faireft of creation, laft and beft Of all God's works, Creature in whom excell'd Whatever can to fight or thought be form'd, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or fweet! How art thou loft, how on a...
Seite 115 - Secure to be as bleft as thou canft bear : Safe in the hand of one difpofing Pow'r, Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.
Seite 19 - Too ftrong for feeble women to fuftain ; Of thofe who claim it, more than half have none, And half of thofe who have it, are undone. Be ftill fuperior to your fex's arts, Nor think...
Seite 206 - d by her fair tendence gladlier grew. Yet went fhe not, as not with fuch difcourfe Delighted, or not capable her ear Of what was high : fuch pleafure...
Seite 60 - With ceaseless storms the blacken'd soul it fills ; Inveighs at heaven, neglects the ties of blood ; Destroys the power and will of doing good ; Kills health, pawns honour, plunges in disgrace, And, what is still more dreadful — spoils your face.
Seite 125 - All fame is foreign, but of true defert ; Plays round the head,, but comes not to the heart...

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