The World as it Goes: Exemplified in the Characters of Nations, States, Princes, Peers, Judges, Counsellors, Senators, Gamblers, Poets, Players, Pimps, and Parasites: with an Exquisite Group of Ladies, Highly Finished

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J. Fielding, 1781 - 48 pages

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Page 12 - To whip a top, to knuckle down at taw, To swing upon a gate, to ride a straw, To play at push-pin with dull brother peers, To belch out catches in a porter's ears, To reign the monarch of a midnight cell, To be the gaping chairman's oracle; Whilst, in most blessed union, rogue and whore Clap hands, huzza, and hiccup out, 'Encore;' Whilst gray Authority, who slumbers there In robes of watchman's fur, gives up his chair; With midnight howl to bay the...
Page 9 - My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew"d, so sanded; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; Crook-kneed and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls ; Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly : Judge when you hear.
Page 8 - Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.
Page 42 - Read much, and look'd as tho' he meant To be a fop no more. See him to LINCOLN'S-!NN repair. His refolution flag ; He cherimes a length of hair, And tucks it in a bag. Nor COKE nor SALKELD he regards, • But gets into the houfe, And foon a judge's rank rewards His pliant votes and bows. Adieu ye bobs ! ye bags give place...
Page 5 - Th' avenging fiend that follows us behind With whips and stings. The blest...
Page 28 - Let Fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul, that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more.
Page 30 - twould a saint provoke" (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke), " No, let a charming chintz, and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face : One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead — And, Betty, give this cheek a little red.
Page 33 - Who gain'd no Title, and who loft no Friend, ' Ennobled by himfelf, by all approv'd, * Prais'd, wept, and honour'd, by the Mufe he lov'd.
Page 12 - With midnight howl to bay the affrighted moon, To walk with torches through the streets at noon; To force plain Nature from her usual way, Each night a vigil, and a blank each day; To match for speed one feather...

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