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againſt appear Becauſe beſt better Cadenus comes court dead Dean death Duke ears EPIGRAM ev'ry eyes face fair fame fate firſt fome fools gave give grace grown half hand hath head hear heart himſelf honour houſe juſt keep kind king Lady land laſt learning leave lies light lines live look Lord maſter mean mind moſt muſt nature ne'er never night nymph o'er once pain play pleaſe poem poet poor Pope praiſe pride Queen riſe round ſaid ſay ſee ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome ſtand Stella ſtill ſuch Swift tell thee theſe thing thoſe thou thought thouſand told true turn uſe Vaneſſa verſes VIII virtue whoſe wife wiſe writ write Written
Stran 124 - And born to write, converse, and live with ease: Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Stran 264 - Tis all on me an usurpation. I have no title to aspire ; Yet, when you sink, I seem the higher; In Pope I cannot read a line, But with a sigh I wish it mine : When he can in one couplet fix More sense than I can do in six, It gives me such a jealous fit, I cry :
Stran 72 - And chose me for an humble friend; Would take me in his coach to chat, And question me of this and that; As,
Stran 272 - tis a shocking sight, And he's engaged to-morrow night; My Lady Club will take it ill, If he should fail her at quadrille. He loved the Dean— (I lead a heart,) But dearest friends, they say, must part. His time was come: he ran his race; We hope he's in a better place.
Stran 271 - My female friends, whose tender hearts Have better learn'd to act their parts, Receive the news in doleful dumps, 'The Dean is dead, (and what is trumps?) Then Lord have mercy on his soul.
Stran 72 - How think you of our friend the Dean? I wonder what some people mean; My lord and he are grown so great, Always together tete-d-tete.
Stran 53 - And, with small change, a pulpit grew. The porringers, that in a row Hung high, and made a glittering show, To a less noble substance chang'd, Were now but leathern buckets rang'd.
Stran 264 - Tis all on me an Usurpation. I have no Title to aspire; Yet, when you sink, I seem the higher. In Pope I cannot read a line, But with a Sigh I wish it mine ; When He can in one Couplet fix More Sense than I can do in six; It gives me such a jealous Fit, I cry "Pox take him and his Wit!
Stran 51 - And then the hospitable sire Bid goody Baucis mend the fire ; While he from out the chimney took A flitch of bacon off the hook, And freely from the fattest side Cut out large slices to be fried ; Then stepp'd aside to fetch them drink, Fill'da large jug up to the brink, And saw it fairly twice go round...