Gossip about Portraits: Principally Engraved Portraits

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H.G. Bohn, 1866 - 223 pages

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Page 94 - With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me ; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, " Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!
Page 47 - EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH, LH WOULD'ST thou hear what man can say In a little ? reader, stay. Underneath this stone doth lie As much beauty as could die : Which in life did harbour give To more virtue than doth live. If at all she had a fault. Leave it buried in this vault. One name was ELIZABETH, The other let it sleep with death : Fitter, where it died, to tell, Than that it lived at all. Farewell 1 SONG.
Page 53 - There is a good, honest, able man, that I could name, that if your Majesty would employ, and command to see all things well executed, all things would soon be mended; and this is one Charles Stuart, who now spends his time in employing his lips about the Court, and hath no other employment ; but if you would give him this employment, he were the fittest man in the world to perform it.
Page 35 - This figure that thou here seest put, It was for gentle SHAKESPEARE cut, Wherein the graver had a strife With nature, to out-do the life : O could he but have drawn his wit As well in brass, as he hath hit His face ; the print would then surpass All that was ever writ in brass. But since he cannot, reader, look Not on his picture, but his book.
Page 116 - At my goldsmith's did observe the King's new medall, where, in little, there is Mrs. Stewart's face as well done as ever I saw anything in my whole life, I think : and a pretty thing it is, that he should choose her face to represent Britannia by.
Page 76 - While Butler, needy wretch, was yet alive, No generous patron would a dinner give ; See him, when starved to death, and turn'd to dust, Presented with a monumental bust. The poet's fate is here in emblem shown, He ask'd for bread, and he received a stone.
Page 72 - For he who fights and runs away May live to fight another day ; But he who is in battle slain Can never rise and fight again.
Page 101 - Thence home ; and to sing with my wife and Mercer in the garden ; and coming in I find my wife plainly dissatisfied with me, that I can spend so much time with Mercer, teaching her to sing, and could never take the pains with her. Which I acknowledge ; but it is because that the girl do take...
Page 20 - She, of whose soul, if we may say, 'twas gold, Her body was th' electrum, and did hold Many degrees of that ; we understood Her by her sight ; her pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought That one might almost say, her body thought...
Page 85 - The only dedication I ever made was to my brother, because I loved him better than most other men. He is since dead. Permit me to inscribe this poem to you.

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