Oliver Goldsmith: A Biography

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J.B. Lippincott & Company, 1870 - 427 pagina's

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Pagina 189 - When lovely woman stoops to folly. And finds, too late, that men betray. What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away? The only art her guilt to cover. To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom, — is to die.
Pagina 168 - ... Madeira and a glass before him. I put the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. He then told me that he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. I looked into it, and saw its merit; told the landlady I should soon return, and having gone to a bookseller sold it for sixty pounds. I brought Goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without rating his landlady in a high tone for having used...
Pagina 269 - Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill, Around my fire an evening group to draw, And tell of all I felt and all I saw; And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, Pants to the place from whence at first she flew — I still had hopes — my long vexations past, Here to return, and die at home at last.
Pagina 169 - The wretch, condemn'd with life to part, Still, still on hope relies ; And every pang that rends the heart, Bids expectation rise. Hope, like the glimmering taper's light, Adorns and cheers the way ; And still, as darker grows the night, Emits a brighter ray.
Pagina 402 - Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick, If they were not his own by finessing and trick : He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, For he knew when he pleased he could whistle them back. Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came, And the puff of a dunce, he mistook it for fame ; Till his relish grown callous, almost to disease, Who pepper'd the highest, was surest to please.
Pagina 14 - Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe. Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.
Pagina 405 - Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart: To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering, When they judged without skill, he was still hard of hearing: When they talked of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff, He shifted his trumpet * , and only took snuff.
Pagina 14 - His house was known to all the vagrant train ; He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain.
Pagina 404 - Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, .He has not left a wiser or better behind : His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand : His manners were gentle, complying, and bland; Still bom to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart...
Pagina 79 - I had rather be an under-turnkey in Newgate. I was up early and late: I was brow-beat by the master, hated for my ugly face by the mistress, worried by the boys within, and never permitted to stir out to meet civility abroad.

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