An American Selection of Lessons in Reading and Speaking: Calculated to Improve the Mind and Refine the Taste of Youth. To which is Prefixed, Rules in Elocution, and Directions for Expressing the Principal Passions of the Mind

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Published and sold by David Hogan, 1814 - 230 sider
 

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Side 220 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble...
Side 222 - There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats ; For I am arm'd so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not.
Side 218 - This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth ; my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Side 218 - Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience.
Side 177 - Tis Education forms the common mind, Just as the Twig is bent, the Tree's inclin'd.
Side 223 - O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb, That carries anger as the flint bears fire, Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark And straight is cold again.
Side 222 - You say you are a better soldier: Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well. For mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. Cas. You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus; I said, an elder soldier, not a better: Did I say better?
Side 222 - All this? ay, more: Fret till your proud heart break; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you; for, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish.
Side 22 - The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherits, shall dissolve ; And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wreck behind ! we are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
Side 220 - Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; then if thou fall'st...

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