Reuben Apsley, Volume 1H. Colburn, 1827 |
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Page 5
... whole assemblage a much more lively look than is now worn by their equally bustling , but more monotonously clad successors . The rich gold- smiths were seen moving to and fro eagerly so- liciting business as bankers — a branch which ...
... whole assemblage a much more lively look than is now worn by their equally bustling , but more monotonously clad successors . The rich gold- smiths were seen moving to and fro eagerly so- liciting business as bankers — a branch which ...
Page 24
... whole La- zar - house of crippled beggars , whose exposed sores and deformities seemed little calculated to promote the trade of the ginger - bread and apple- stalls in their immediate vicinity . Here the good citizens with their wives ...
... whole La- zar - house of crippled beggars , whose exposed sores and deformities seemed little calculated to promote the trade of the ginger - bread and apple- stalls in their immediate vicinity . Here the good citizens with their wives ...
Page 42
... poured out upon the offender with a volubility which might well be termed the eloquence of passion , and which was sustained with such unbroken vehemence , that the whole ebullition appeared to be but one period 42 REUBEN APSLEY .
... poured out upon the offender with a volubility which might well be termed the eloquence of passion , and which was sustained with such unbroken vehemence , that the whole ebullition appeared to be but one period 42 REUBEN APSLEY .
Page 43
Horace Smith. that the whole ebullition appeared to be but one period , and to be uttered in a single breath . " Then may the next drop choke ye , for a lying land lubber , " she exclaimed with a malignant scowl ; " and God send ye may ...
Horace Smith. that the whole ebullition appeared to be but one period , and to be uttered in a single breath . " Then may the next drop choke ye , for a lying land lubber , " she exclaimed with a malignant scowl ; " and God send ye may ...
Page 45
... earth - treading cowards as ye are safely tippling your ale . The curse of Saint Patrick be upon the whole gang of ye ! " Norry Molloy had not been so wholly en- grossed by the latter part of this philippic , al- REUBEN APSLEY . 45.
... earth - treading cowards as ye are safely tippling your ale . The curse of Saint Patrick be upon the whole gang of ye ! " Norry Molloy had not been so wholly en- grossed by the latter part of this philippic , al- REUBEN APSLEY . 45.
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66 Whoop Adeline alarm appearance Arcadius better bosom Brummagem calash cane carriage Cavalier Chatsworth Chinnery coast command companion cried Goldingham dark dear declared delight door drink Duchess of Portsmouth Duke of Monmouth Duke's enclosures escape exclaimed eyes father feelings Fludyer fortunate fortunate ship glass Gold Goldingham Place grey hand happy Harpsden Hartfield haugh head heard heart Helen honour horse hurried inquired Isaac King Lady Crockatt ladyship landlord London look Lord Grey Lord Trevanian Lyme master Mick mind morning mouth Nantz neighbour never night Norry Molloy object observed occasion party periwig pistol pocket poor Popish Popish plot present proceeded purpose rendered replied Reuben Apsley romance Rookery round rustic Sedgemoor seemed seized side Sir Ambrose Sir Harcourt soldiers soon Squire summer-house sure thee there's thing thought Timothy tion Titus Oates troggs turned uncle walk whole wish
Popular passages
Page 196 - WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Page 233 - Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content ; The quiet mind is richer than a crown ; Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent ; The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown : Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss, Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.
Page 196 - TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind, — That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field ; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore ; I could not love thee, dear, so much. Loved I not honour more.
Page 317 - LOVE not me for comely grace, For my pleasing eye or face, Nor for any outward part, No, nor for a constant heart : For these may fail or turn to ill, So thou and I shall sever : Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye, And love me still but know not why — So hast thou the same reason still To doat upon me ever ! Anonymous.
Page 1 - The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy, And wit me warns to shun such snares as threaten mine annoy. For falsehood now doth flow, and subjects' faith doth ebb ; Which would not be if Reason ruled, or Wisdom weaved the web.
Page 22 - your father would have gone further." " Your majesty's father would not have gone so far," replied the duke. He ordered Huddleston, the priest, to publish a relation of Charles's dying in the communion of the Church of Rome, and he himself became the publisher of two papers, which he declared in his own royal name, and under his signature, were found by him in his brother's strong box ; their tendency being...
Page 317 - Love not me for comely grace, For my pleasing eye or face, Nor for any outward part, No, nor for my constant heart, — For those may fail, or turn to ill, So thou and I shall sever : Keep therefore a true woman's eye, And love me still, but know not why—- So hast thou the same reason still To doat upon me ever ! Anon.
Page 164 - Venus' sweet delight, Of late had chang'd the tenor of her string To higher tunes than serve for Cupid's fight : Shrill trumpets' sound, sharp swords, and lances strong, War, blood, and death, were matter of her song. The God of Love by chance had heard thereof, That I was prov'da rebel to his crown ; " Fit words for war," quoth he, with angry scoff, " A likely man to write of Mars his frown.
Page 60 - Bon ton never to define, or be defined. It is the child and the Parent of Jargon. It is — I can never tell you what it is : but I will try to tell you what it is not.