Memoirs of the Court of England: During the Reigns of William and Mary, Queen Anne, and the First and Second Georges, 2. köide

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Page 162 - tis all a cheat, Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit ; Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay ; To-morrow's falser than the former day ; Lies worse ; and, while it says we shall be blest With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.
Page 152 - Last night, her lord was all that's good and great: A knave this morning, and his will a cheat. Strange! by the means defeated of the ends, By spirit robb'd of power, by warmth of friends, By wealth of followers! without one distress, Sick of herself through very selfishness! Atossa, cursed with every granted prayer, Childless with all her children, wants an heir. To heirs unknown descends the unguarded store, Or wanders, Heaven-directed, to the poor.
Page 237 - Oxford enjoined him to study Spanish; and when, some time afterwards, he came again, and said that he had mastered it, dismissed him with this congratulation, "Then, sir, I envy you the pleasure of reading 'Don Quixote
Page 271 - I think Mr. St. John the greatest - -young man I ever knew; wit, capacity, beauty, quickness of apprehension, good learning, and an excellent taste; the best orator in the house of commons, admirable conversation, good nature, and good manners; generous, and a despiser of money.
Page 336 - Algerian grot, Where, nobly pensive, St. John sat and thought; Where British sighs from dying Wyndham stole, And the bright flame was shot through Marchmont's soul. Let such, such only, tread this sacred floor, Who dare to love their country, and be poor.
Page 86 - I take with pleasure this opportunity of doing justice to that great man, whose faults I knew, whose virtues I admired, and whose memory, as the greatest general and as the greatest minister that our country or perhaps any other has produced, I honour.
Page 249 - A soul supreme, in each hard instance tried, Above all pain, all passion, and all pride, The rage of power, the blast of public breath The lust of lucre, and the dread of death.
Page 152 - No Thought advances, but her Eddy Brain Whisks it about, and down it goes again. Full sixty years the World has been her Trade, The wisest Fool much Time has ever made : From loveless youth to unrespected age, No Passion gratify'd except her Rage.
Page 336 - There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl The feast of reason and the flow of soul...
Page 256 - I am this morning in the humour of scribbling, to make my letter at least as long as one of your sermons ; and, if you do not mend, my next shall be as long as one of Dr. Manton's*, who taught my youth to yawn, and prepared me to be a high churchman, that I might never hear him read, nor read him more.

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