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Seite 52 - Let me play the Fool: With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
Seite 86 - If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die.— That strain again;— it had a dying fall; O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.— Enough; no more; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Seite 85 - That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them below ; Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Was all that did their silly...
Seite 86 - That undisturbed song of pure concent, Aye sung before the sapphire-coloured throne To Him that sits thereon, With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee ; Where the bright Seraphim in burning row Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow, And the Cherubic host in thousand quires Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms, Hymns devout and holy psalms Singing everlastingly...
Seite 276 - Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a : A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a.
Seite 354 - We retrench the superfluities of mankind. The world is avaritious, and I hate avarice. A covetous fellow, like a jack-daw, steals what he was never made to enjoy, for the sake of hiding it. These are the robbers of mankind, for money was made for the free-hearted and generous, and where is the injury of taking from another, what he hath not the heart to make use of?
Seite 86 - And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes, like the warbling of music,) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air.
Seite 116 - I want to know you, Mr. Sterne, but it is fit you also should know who it is that wishes this pleasure. You have heard of an old Lord Bathurst, of whom your Popes and Swifts have sung and spoken so much? I have lived my life with geniuses of that cast; but have survived them; and, despairing ever to find their equals, it is some years since I...
Seite 85 - At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound Rose like a steam of rich distill'd perfumes. And stole upon the air, that even Silence Was took ere she was ware, and wished she might Deny her nature, and be never more Still to be so displaced. I was all ear, !(« And took in strains that might create a soul Under the ribs of Death.