Granville. Yalden. Tickell. Swift. Hammond. Somerville. Parnell. Savage. Broome

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Samuel Johnson
A. Miller, 1800
 

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Side 416 - See how the Dean begins to break! Poor gentleman, he droops apace! You plainly find it in his face. That old vertigo in his head Will never leave him, till he's dead. Besides, his memory decays: He recollects not what he says; He cannot call his friends to mind; Forgets the place where last he dined; Plies you with stories o'er and o'er; He told them fifty times before.
Side 419 - He knew a hundred pleasant stories, With all the turns of Whigs and Tories: Was cheerful to his dying day, And friends would let him have his way. 'He gave the little wealth he had, To build a house for fools and mad: And showed by one satiric touch, No nation wanted it so much: That kingdom he hath left his debtor, I wish it soon may have a better.
Side 422 - When beasts could speak, (the learned say They still can do so every day,) It seems, they had religion then, As much as now we find in men. It happen'd, when a plague broke out, (Which therefore made them more devout...
Side 416 - He's dead, you say; then let him rot; I'm glad the medals were forgot. I promis'd him, I own ; but when ? I only was the princess then ; But now as consort of the king, You know, 'tis quite another thing.
Side 428 - Two bordering wits contend for glory ; And one is Whig, and one is Tory : And this for epics claims the bays, And that for elegiac lays : Some...
Side 503 - With heaping coals of fire upon its head ; In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, And, loose from dross, the silver runs below.
Side 107 - There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.
Side 416 - To hear his out-of-fashion wit ? But he takes up with younger folks, Who for his wine will bear his jokes. Faith ! he must make his stories shorter, Or change his comrades once a quarter ; In half the time he talks them round, There must another set be found.
Side 491 - His thoughts grow conscious of approaching woe, His idle tears with vain repentance flow ; His locks he rends, his trembling feet he rears, Thick beats his heart with...
Side 415 - em? To all my foes, dear Fortune, send Thy gifts; but never to my friend: I tamely can endure the first; But this with envy makes me burst.

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