The ambitious step-mother. Tamerlane. The fair penitent. Ulysses

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T. Jauncy, 1720

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Strana 51 - That I must die, it is my only comfort ; Death is the privilege of human nature, And life without it were not worth our taking: " Thither the poor, the pris'ner, and the mourner, 140 " Fly for relief, and lay their burthens down.
Strana 9 - Take care my gates be open, bid all welcome ; All who rejoice with me to-day are friends : Let each indulge his genius, each be glad, Jocund and free, and swell the feast with mirth : The sprightly bowl shall cheerfully go round ; None shall be grave nor too severely wise; Losses and disappointments, cares and poverty, The rich man's insolence, and great man's scorn, In wine shall be forgotten all.
Strana 7 - Some sullen influence, a foe to both, Has wrought this fatal marriage to undo us. Mark but the frame and temper of our minds, How very much we differ. Ev'n this day, That fills thee with such...
Strana 26 - tis but plague to me ? When thou art mine no more, what will it ease me To think of all the golden minutes past, To think that thou wert kind, and I was happy ? But like an angel fall'n from bliss, to curse My present state, and mourn the heav'n I've lost. Sel. Hope better for us both ; nor let thy fears, Like an unlucky omen, cross my way.
Strana 39 - Nor aught that may continue hated life. Then when you see me meagre, wan, and chang'd, Stretch'd at my length, and dying in my cave, On that cold earth; I mean shall be my grave, Perhaps you may relent, and sighing say, At length her tears have...
Strana 4 - It damps the springs of life. Oh ! bid me die, Much rather bid me die, if it be true That thou hast sworn to hate me.
Strana 30 - And made thee all my Portion here on Earth ; It gave thee to me, as a large amends, For Fortune, Friends, and all the World beside.
Strana 3 - What joy have I from that, but to behold thee, To kneel before thee, and, with lifted eyes, To view thee, as devotion does a saint, With awful, trembling pleasure; then to swear Thou art the queen and mistress of my soul ! Has not...
Strana 15 - Loth. Is then my way in Genoa prescrib'd By a dependent on the wretched Altamont ? A talking Sir, that brawls for him in taverns, And vouches for his valour's reputation? Hor. Away! thy speech is fouler than thy manners. Loth. Or, if there be a name more vile, his parasite; A beggar's parasite ! Hor.

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