The wits and beaux of society, by Grace and Philip Wharton, Volume 1

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Page 16 - Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was everything by starts and nothing long ; But in the course of one revolving moon Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking. Blest madman, who could every hour employ With something new to wish or to enjoy...
Page 10 - A man so various, that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was everything by starts, and nothing long; But, in the course of one revolving moon, Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Page 239 - A Cherub's face, a reptile all the rest, Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust, Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.
Page 239 - Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad, In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies, Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies. His wit all see-saw, between that and this, Now high, now low, now master up, now miss, And he himself one vile antithesis.
Page 182 - His passion still, to covet general praise, His life, to forfeit it a thousand ways; A constant bounty which no friend has made; An angel tongue, which no man can persuade; A fool, with more of wit than half mankind, Too rash for thought, for action too refined...
Page 38 - Here lies our sovereign lord the king. Whose word no man relies on; Who never said a foolish thing, And never did a wise one.
Page 46 - Shrewsbury and love ; Or just as gay, at Council, in a ring Of mimic statesmen, and their merry king, No wit to flatter, left of all his store ! No fool to laugh at, which he valued more. There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, And fame, this lord of useless thousands ends.
Page 37 - I shall consider you as the assassin : I shall treat you as such ; and wherever I meet you, I shall pistol you, though you stood behind the king's chair ; and I tell it you in his majesty's presence, that you may be sure I shall not fail of performance.
Page 241 - I'll venture for the vole.) Six deans, they say, must bear the pall : (I wish I knew what king to call.) Madam, your husband will attend The funeral of so good a friend.
Page 81 - Marks the young dawn of every virtuous aim, And fans the smoking flax into a flame. His ears are open to the softest cry, His grace descends to meet the lifted eye; He reads the language of a silent tear, And sighs are incense from a heart sincere.

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