Anecdotes of Literature and Scarce Books, Volume 2F. C. & J. Rivington, 1807 - Bibliography |
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Page 1
... . Let us sip , and let it slip And go which way it will a ; Let us trip , and let us skip , And let us drink our fill a . VOL . II . B Take Take the cup , and drink all up , Give VOL Page Old Songs from Garrick Collection.
... . Let us sip , and let it slip And go which way it will a ; Let us trip , and let us skip , And let us drink our fill a . VOL . II . B Take Take the cup , and drink all up , Give VOL Page Old Songs from Garrick Collection.
Page 2
William Beloe. Take the cup , and drink all up , Give me the can to fill a ; Every sup , and every cup , Hold here and my good will a . Gossip mine and gossip thine , Now let us gossip still a ; Here is good wine , this ale is fine ; Now ...
William Beloe. Take the cup , and drink all up , Give me the can to fill a ; Every sup , and every cup , Hold here and my good will a . Gossip mine and gossip thine , Now let us gossip still a ; Here is good wine , this ale is fine ; Now ...
Page 3
... give forsaken virgins rest . 2 . Th ' adventrous merchant and the mariner , Whom stormes all day vex in the deep , Beginne to trust the windes when I appeare , And lose their dangers in their sleep . 3 . The studious that consume their ...
... give forsaken virgins rest . 2 . Th ' adventrous merchant and the mariner , Whom stormes all day vex in the deep , Beginne to trust the windes when I appeare , And lose their dangers in their sleep . 3 . The studious that consume their ...
Page 9
... gives their empire date . 2 . Depose that proud insulting boy , Who most is pleased when he can most destroy . O let the world no longer governed be By such a blind and childish Deity : For if you Gods be in your power severe , We shall ...
... gives their empire date . 2 . Depose that proud insulting boy , Who most is pleased when he can most destroy . O let the world no longer governed be By such a blind and childish Deity : For if you Gods be in your power severe , We shall ...
Page 25
... in 1630 . SONG . Slaves are they that heape up mountains , Still desiring more and more ; Still lets carouse in Bacchus fountaines , Never dreaming to be poore . Give Give us then a cup of liquor , Fille it OLD SONGS . 25.
... in 1630 . SONG . Slaves are they that heape up mountains , Still desiring more and more ; Still lets carouse in Bacchus fountaines , Never dreaming to be poore . Give Give us then a cup of liquor , Fille it OLD SONGS . 25.
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Common terms and phrases
agayne Anno Anno Domini Archbishop Hamilton Bible Bishop's Bible black letter British Museum called Church Yard copy curious dayes death delight discourse divers doth Duke of Roxburgh edition England English EPIG flie foole GABRIEL HARVEY Garrick collection Gent Gentlemen George GEORGE GASCOIGNE George Peele grace hath haue Henry History holy honorable Imprinted at London inscribed John King Lady late learned London Lord Maister Majesties mery MUSICKE mynde never night noble Octavo pittie pleasant Poem Poet pretie Printed Printer quæ Queene quoth rare reader Robert Greene Rondeau Roxburgh collection Royal sayd Scotland shew sing singular sold SONG sonne specimen subjoin sundry sunne sweet Testament thee theyr thing Thomas Thomas Lodge thou thought thynges Tract translated tyme unto verses vertue vnto volume vpon wanton Wherein worthy writing written wyll yeres
Popular passages
Page 128 - Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas, Gaudia, discursus, nostri farrago libelli est.
Page 363 - Yok'd with a slow-foot ox on fallow field, Can right areed how handsomely besets Dull spondees with the English dactylets. If Jove speak English in a thundring cloud, " Thwick thwack," and " riff raff," roars he out aloud. Fie on the forged mint that did create New coin of words never articulate.
Page 120 - Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet: Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah, wanton, will ye?
Page 37 - Then, nymphs, take vantage while ye may; And this is Love, as I hear say. Yet what is Love, good shepherd, show? , A thing that creeps, it cannot go, A prize that passeth to and fro, A thing for one, a thing for moe, And he that proves shall find it so; And shepherd, this is Love, I trow.
Page 79 - ... plains? Ah, sweet Content, where dost thou safely rest ? In heaven, with Angels which the praises sing Of Him that made and rules at his behest The minds and hearts of every living thing ? Ah, sweet Content, where doth thine harbour hold ? Is it in churches with religious men Which please the gods with prayers manifold, And in their studies meditate it then ? Whether thou dost in heaven or earth appear, Be where thou wilt, thou wilt not harbour here.
Page 191 - WEEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old there's grief enough for thee. Mother's wag, pretty boy, Father's sorrow, father's joy ; When thy father first did see Such a boy by him and me, He was glad, I was woe, Fortune changed made him so, When he left his pretty boy Last his sorrow, first his joy.
Page 318 - Languages. With Arguments of Bookes and Chapters, Annotations and other necessarie Helpes for the better understanding of the Text, and specially for the Discoverie of the Corruptions of divers late Translations, and for cleering the Controversies in Religion of these Daies.
Page 122 - Even on the brink I hear him sing; If so I meditate alone, He will be partner of my moan; If so I mourn, he weeps with me, And where I am there will he be.
Page 121 - I'll make you fast it for your sin, I'll count your power not worth a pin, Alas ! what hereby shall I win, If he gainsay me? What if I beat the wanton boy With many a rod ? He will repay me with annoy, Because a god. Then sit thou...
Page 121 - I'll count your power not worth a pin: Alas, what hereby shall I win, If he gainsay me ? What if I beat the wanton boy With many a rod ? He will repay me with annoy, Because a god. Then sit thou safely on my knee, And let thy bower my bosom be, Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee; O Cupid, so thou pity me, Spare not, but play thee.