Encyclopaedia Perthensis; Or Universal Dictionary of the Arts, Sciences, Literature, &c. Intended to Supersede the Use of Other Books of Reference, Tom 7

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John Brown, 1816
 

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Strona 197 - That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time...
Strona 402 - WHEN a man hath taken a wife, and married her, and it come to pass that she find no favour in his eyes, because he hath found some uncleanness in her : then let him write her a bill of divorcement, and give it in her hand, and send her out of his house.
Strona 392 - At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame ; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Enlarged the former narrow bounds, And added length to solemn sounds, With nature's mother- wit, and arts unknown before.
Strona 223 - Italian band, a devout man, and one that feared God with all his house, who gave much alms to the people, and prayed to God alway.
Strona 111 - Surely men of low degree are vanity, and men of high degree are a lie : to be laid in the balance, they are altogether tighter than vanity.
Strona 223 - ... peace. He had a particular reverence for the person of the king, and the more extraordinary devotion for that of the prince, as he had had the honour to be trusted with his education as his governor ; for which office, as he excelled in some, so he wanted other qualifications.
Strona 341 - The discreet man finds out the talents of those he converses with, and knows how to apply them to proper uses. Accordingly, if we look into particular communities and divisions of men, we may observe that it is the discreet man, not the witty, nor the learned, nor the brave, who guides the conversation, and gives measures to the society. A man with great talents, but void of discretion, is like Polyphemus in the fable, strong and blind, endued with an irresistible force, which, for want of sight,...
Strona 277 - Talk not of life, or ransom (he replies): Patroclus dead, whoever meets me, dies: In vain a single Trojan sues for grace; But least, the sons of Priam's hateful race. Die then, my friend! what boots it to deplore? The great, the good Patroclus is no more! He, far thy better, was foredoom'd to die, And thou, dost thou bewail mortality?
Strona 228 - Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy, To meditate my rural minstrelsy, Till Fancy had her fill. But ere a close The wonted roar was up amidst the woods...
Strona 104 - I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them...

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