Cigars and tobacco, wine, and women, as they are, by a modern Epicurean

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Kent & Richards, 1849 - 115 sider
 

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Side 57 - It ascends me into the brain ; dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it; makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes; which delivered o'er to the voice, — the tongue, — which is the birth, becomes excellent wit.
Side 76 - Short upper lip— sweet lips ! that make us sigh Ever to have seen such ; for she was one Fit for the model of a statuary, (A race of mere impostors, when all's done — I've seen much finer women, ripe and real, Than all the nonsense of their stone ideal).
Side 22 - Would do anything but die, And but seek to extend my days Long enough to sing thy praise. But, as she, who once hath been A king's consort, is a queen Ever after, nor will bate Any...
Side 22 - Any title of her state, Though a widow or divorced, So I, from thy converse forced, The old name and style retain, A right Katherine of Spain ; And a seat, too, 'mongst the joys Of the blest Tobacco Boys...
Side 66 - T' adulterate generous wine with noxious juice. R. WYNNE. Sheer-lane, February 8. THERE is in this city a certain fraternity of chemical operators, who work underground in holes, caverns and dark retirements, to conceal their mysteries from the eyes and observation of mankind. These subterraneous philosophers are daily employed in the transmutation of liquors, and, by the power of magical drugs and incantations, raising under the streets of London the choicest products of the hills and valleys of...
Side 21 - A finer thyrsus of thy leaves. Scent to match thy rich perfume Chemic art did ne'er presume ; Through her quaint alembic strain, None so sov'reign to the brain : Nature, that did in thee excel, Framed again no second smell.
Side 95 - Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast ; Still to be powdered, still perfumed : Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace : Robes loosely flowing, hair as free : Such sweet neglect more taketh me, Than all the adulteries of art ; They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
Side 93 - Give Isaac the nymph who no beauty can boast, But health and good-humour to make her his toast : If straight, I don't mind whether slender or fat, And six feet or four — we'll ne'er quarrel for that.
Side 23 - When agen the cricket's gay, (Little cricket, full of play,) Can afford his tube to feed With the fragrant INDIAN weed : Pleasure for a nose divine, Incense of the god of wine. Happy thrice, and thrice agen, Happiest he of happy men.
Side 20 - Though green at noon, cut down at night, Shows thy decay; All flesh is hay: Thus think, and smoke tobacco.

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