The Works of Mr. John Gay: In Four Volumes. To which is Added an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author ...

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James Potts, 1770
 

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Side 19 - Where yet was ever found a mother, Who'd give her booby for another ? And should we change with human breed, Well might we pass for fools indeed.
Side 11 - In constancy and nuptial love, I learn my duty from the dove : The hen, who from the chilly air, With pious wing protects her care, And every fowl that flies at large Instructs me in a parent's charge.
Side 88 - This magic looking-glass," she cries, (" There, hand it round) will charm your eyes " : Each eager eye the sight desired, And ev'ry man himself admired.
Side 91 - Tis conquest to assert your right. How cumbrous is the gilded coach ! The pride of man is our reproach. Were we...
Side 92 - My latter life is rest and peace. I grant, to man we lend our pains, And aid him to correct the plains. But doth not he divide the care, Through all the labours of the year? How many thousand structures rise, To fence us from inclement skies!
Side 94 - I HATE the man who builds his name On ruins of another's fame: Thus prudes, by characters o'erthrown, Imagine that they raise their own; Thus scribblers, covetous of praise, Think slander can transplant the bays. Beauties and bards have equal pride, With both all rivals are...
Side 147 - With head and tongue assist mankind; Each, aiming at one common end, Proves to the whole a needful friend. Thus, born each other's useful aid, By turns are obligations p*aid. The monarch, when his...
Side 20 - Hard is my lot," the Hound replies, "On what fleet nerves the Greyhound flies; While I, with weary step and slow, O'er plains, and vales, and mountains go. The morning sees my chase begun, Nor ends it till the setting sun.
Side 10 - TULLY'S mind ? Or, like the wise ULYSSES thrown By various fates on realms unknown, Hast thou through many cities stray'd, Their customs, laws, and manners weigh'd...
Side 46 - Raphael's hand require, To give them all the native fire; The features, fraught with sense and wit, You'll grant, are very hard to hit; But yet, with patience, you shall view As much as paint and art can do.

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