Sketches of History, Politics and Manners: Taken in Dublin, and the North of Ireland, in the Autumn of 1810 ...

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C. Cradock and W. Joy, 1811 - 294 pages
 

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Page 176 - formerly received with, he knew he would only meet " Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath, " Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not." He had, indeed, " Fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf, " And that which should accompany old age: " As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, " He could not look to have.
Page 214 - To be my child Cordelia. Cor. " And so I am, 1 am. Lear. Be your tears wet ? Yes, faith—I pray, weep not: If you have poison for me, I will drink it. I know you do not love me ; for your sisters
Page 248 - might suppose that the physical evils of his situation attached him more strongly to it. " Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms ; And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, So, the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
Page 180 - cheer, while his wit and good humour, would have given a relish to the worst. " A merrier man, " Within the limit of becoming mirth, " I never spent an hour's talk withal." He was a great improver of his demesne, on which he expended several thousand
Page 65 - said of the other conspirators, " He only, in a general honest thought, And common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle; and the elements So mixt in him, that nature might stand up.
Page 214 - pray, weep not: If you have poison for me, I will drink it. I know you do not love me ; for your sisters Have, as I do remember, done me wrong : You have some cause, they have not. Cor. No cause, No cause.
Page 220 - is a strange, but it is a pastoral idea. Job, though he did not drink butter, made almost as singular a use of it. " O that I were," exclaimed he, " as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me. When I washed my steps with butter, and the rocks poured me out rivers of oil."
Page 13 - are written in the breast of the widow and the orphan, in the heart that melts, in the eye that overflows at his approach—" When the ear heard him, then it blessed him ; and when the eye saw him, then it gave witness to him.—The blessing of him that was ready to
Page 249 - make them, as a breath has made; But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroy'd, can never be supply'd. The population of Ireland is rapidly becoming more Catholic. This (however I may have written, with what many will term, an undue predilection in their favour) I consider a great evil. In every form of religion, there are many dogmas to which I cannot subscribe ; but
Page 117 - soothed, in the ear that listened to them. " The grief that does not speak, " Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break." I regret I cannot tell it in her own

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