Letters on the English Nation, Tom 2

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S. Crowder, 1755 - 296

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Strona 241 - Never, lago. Like to the Pontic sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic and the Hellespont ; Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love. Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up. — Now, by yond marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow {Kneels, I here engage my words.
Strona 237 - O now, for ever, Farewell the tranquil mind ! Farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war...
Strona 232 - Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger ; But oh, what damned minutes tells he o'er Who doats, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves!
Strona 241 - O, that the slave had forty thousand lives ! One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, lago ; All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven : 'Tis gone. Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell ! Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne To tyrannous hate ! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught, For 'tis of aspics
Strona 237 - That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife, The royal banner; and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats Th' immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! logo.
Strona 238 - Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore, — Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof; Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul, Thou hadst been better have been born a dog Than answer my wak'd wrath ! lago.
Strona 286 - Rumble thy fill ! fight whirlwind, rain and fire! Not fire, wind, rain, or thunder, are my daughters: I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness : I never gave you kingdoms, call'd you children; You owe me no obedience. — Then let fall Your horrible pleasure ! — Here I stand your slave, A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man.
Strona 289 - Would I were affur'd Of my condition. Cor. O, look upon me, fir, And hold your hands in benediction o'er me : — No, fir, you muft not kneel'. Lear. Pray, do not mock me * : I am a very foolifh fond old man, Fourfcore and upward * ; and, to deal plainly, I fear, I am not in my perfeft mind 5.
Strona 234 - Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons, Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, But, with a little act upon the blood, Burn like the mines of sulphur.
Strona 289 - O, look upon me, sir, And hold your hands in benediction o'er me: No, sir, you must not kneel. Lear. Pray, do not mock me : I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less; And, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind.

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