Anecdotes of Literature and Scarce Books, Volume 2

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F. C. and J. Rivington, 1814 - Bibliographical literature

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Page 119 - The Belman of London. Bringing to light the most notorious villanies that are now practised in the Kingdome.
Page 257 - THE HOLY BIBLE, conteyning the Old Testament and the New, newly translated out of the Originall Tongues, and with the former translations diligently compared and revised, by his Majesties speciall comandement. Appointed to be read in Churches.
Page 109 - Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas, Gaudia, discursus, nostri farrago libelli est.
Page 101 - Rosalynde, Euphues Golden Legacie, found after his death in his Cell at Silexedra, bequeathed to Philautus sonnes noursed up with their father in England, Fetcht from the Canaries by TL, gent., Imprinted by T.
Page 180 - Westward for Smelts, or the Waterman's Fare of mad merry western Wenches, whose Tongues albeit like Bell-clappers they never leave ringing, yet their Tales are sweet, and will much content you: Written by Kitt of Kingstone.
Page 4 - Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen; Duty, faith, love* are roots, and ever green. His helmet now shall make a hive for bees; And lovers...
Page 105 - SONG. A blyth and bonny country lasse, Heigh ho, the bonny lasse ! Sate sighing on the tender grasse And weeping said, Will none come woo me ? A smicker boy, a...
Page 37 - O yes ! O yes ! Has any lost A heart which many a sigh hath cost? Is any cozened of a tear Which as a pearl disdain does wear ? Here stands the thief; let her but come Hither, and lay on him her doom.
Page 171 - THE TRUE TRAGEDIE OF RICHARD DUKE OF YORKE, AND THE DEATH OF GOOD KING HENRIE THE SIXT, with the whole contention betweene the two Houses Lancaster and Yorke, as it was sundrie times acted by the Right Honourable the Earle of Pembrooke his seruants.
Page 102 - 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?

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