An American Selection of Lessons in Reading and Speaking: Calculated to Improve the Minds and Refine the Taste of Youth : to which are Prefixed Rules in Elocution, and Directions for Expressing the Principal Passions of the Mind
From Sidney's Press for I. Beers and I. Cooke, 1804 - 225 pages
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Page 216 - By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash By any indirection.
Page 214 - Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not ; Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Page 213 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell...
Page 221 - And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress
Page 190 - WE all of us complain of the Shortness of Time, saith Seneca, and yet have much more than we know what to do with. Our Lives, says he, are spent either in doing nothing at all, or in doing nothing to the purpose, or in doing nothing that we ought to do: We are always Complaining our Days are few, and Acting as though there would be no End of them.
Page 169 - Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave, Is but the more a fool, the more a knave. Who noble ends by noble means obtains, Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains, Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed Like Socrates, that man is great indeed. What's fame? a fancied life in others' breath, A thing beyond us, ev'n before our death.
Page 169 - The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd. " What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl !" I'll tell you, friend ! a wise man and a fool.
Page 211 - Have faces flush'd with more exalted charms ; The sun that rolls his chariot o'er their heads, Works up more fire and colour in their cheeks : Were you with these, my prince, you'd soon forget, The pale, unripen'd beauties of the north.
Page 62 - There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it : I have killed many : I have fully glutted my vengeance : for my country I rejoice at the beams of peace. But do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear.