The Works of D. Jonathan Swift: In Nine Volumes, Volum 2

Forside
Dublin printed; and Edinburgh reprinted, for G. Hamilton & J. Balfour, and L. Hunter, at Edinburgh; and A. Stalker, at Glasgow; and sold by them and other booksellers., 1752
 

Hva folk mener - Skriv en omtale

Vi har ikke funnet noen omtaler på noen av de vanlige stedene.

Utvalgte sider

Andre utgaver - Vis alle

Vanlige uttrykk og setninger

Populære avsnitt

Side 3 - don't be angry, I am sure I never thought you so ; You know I honour the cloth ; I design to be a Parson's wife ; I never took one in your coat for a conjurer in all my life.
Side 120 - Preferring his regard for me Before his credit, or his fee. Some formal visits, looks, and words, What mere humanity affords, I meet perhaps from three or four, From whom I once expected more ; Which those who tend the sick for pay, Can act as decently as they : But no obliging, tender friend, To help at my approaching end.
Side 120 - Removed from kind Arbuthnot's aid, Who knows his art but not his trade, Preferring his regard for me Before his credit or his fee. Some formal visits, looks, and words, What mere humanity affords, I meet, perhaps, from three or four From whom I once expected more, Which...
Side 189 - That lies in old wood like a hare in her form ; With teeth or with claws it will bite or will scratch, And chambermaids christen this worm a deathwatch ; Because like a watch it always cries click ; Then woe be to those in the house who are sick : For, as sure as a gun, they will give up the ghost, If the maggot cries click when it scratches the post.
Side 24 - A sable cloud athwart the welkin flings, That swill'd more liquor than it could contain, And, like a drunkard, gives it up again.
Side 244 - You had like to have put it quite out of my head. ' Next day, to be sure, the captain will come At the head of his troop, with trumpet and drum.
Side 205 - THIS day, whate'er the Fates decree, Shall still be kept with joy by me : This day, then, let us not be told That you are sick and I grown old, Nor think on our approaching ills, And talk of spectacles and pills : To-morrow will be time enough To hear such mortifying stuff.
Side 106 - Reason's gate ; And, what is worse, your passion bends Its force against your nearest friends, Which manners, decency, and pride, Have taught you from the world to hide...
Side 350 - In bulk there are not more degrees, From elephants to mites in cheese, Than what a curious eye may trace In creatures of the rhyming race. From bad to worse, and worse, they fall ; But who can reach the...

Bibliografisk informasjon