Charlie Villars at Cambridge, Volume 2

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Hurst and Blackett, 1868

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Page 100 - Stop thief, stop thief — a highwayman ! Not one of them was mute, And all and each that passed that way Did join in the pursuit. And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space, The toll-men thinking as before That Gilpin rode a race.
Page 61 - I have heard her declare, under the rose, that hearts was her favourite suit. I never in my life — and I knew Sarah Battle many of the best years of it — saw her take out her snuff-box when it was her turn to play ; or snuff a candle in the middle of a game ; or ring for a servant till it was fairly over. She never introduced or connived at miscellaneous conversation during its process. As she emphatically observed, cards were cards : and if I ever saw unmingled distaste...
Page 238 - With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light. There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voiced quire below, In service high and anthems clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.
Page 15 - TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Page 26 - Although thy breath be rude. Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly Then, heigh, ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c.
Page 277 - There throw, nice judging, the delusive fly ; And as you lead it round in artful curve, With eye attentive mark the springing game...
Page 312 - This world is the best that we live in, To lend, or to spend, or to give in ; But to beg, or to borrow, or get a man's own, 'Tis the very worst world, sir, that ever was known.

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