Hudibras: In Three Parts : Written in the Time of the Late Wars

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Vernor and Hood, 1805 - 384 pages

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Page 7 - A sect whose chief devotion lies In odd perverse antipathies, In falling out with that or this, And finding somewhat still amiss ; More peevish, cross, and splenetic, Than dog distract, or monkey sick...
Page 278 - For loyalty is still the same Whether it win or lose the game ; True as the dial to the sun, Although it be not shin'd upon.
Page 7 - For he was of that stubborn crew Of errant saints, whom all men grant To be the true church militant ; Such as do build their faith upon The holy text of pike and gun ; Decide all controversies by Infallible artillery ; And prove their doctrine orthodox By apostolic blows and knocks...
Page 3 - He'd undertake to prove by force Of argument, a man's no horse; He'd prove a buzzard is no fowl, And that a lord may be an owl; A calf an alderman, a goose a justice, And rooks committee-men and trustees.
Page 153 - The sun had long since, in the lap Of Thetis, taken out his nap, And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn From black to red began to turn...
Page 141 - Quoth he, My faith, as adamantine, As chains of destiny, I'll maintain ; True as Apollo ever spoke, Or oracle from heart of oak ; And if you'll give my flame but vent, Now in close hugger-mugger pent, And shine upon me but benignly, With that one, and that other pigsney...
Page 165 - Have a care o' th' main chance, And Look before you ere you leap ; For As you sow, y...
Page 361 - Though women first were made for men, Yet men were made for them again : For when (out-witted by his wife) Man first turn'd tenant but for life, if women had not interven'd, How soon had mankind had an end ! And that it is in being yet, To us alone you are in debt.
Page 27 - Success, the Mark no Mortal Wit, Or surest Hand, can always hit: 880 For whatsoe'er we perpetrate, We do but row, we're steer'd by Fate, Which in Success oft disinherits, For spurious Causes, noblest Merits.
Page 63 - AY me ! what perils do environ The man that meddles with cold iron ! What plaguy mischiefs and mishaps Do dog him still with after-claps ! For though Dame Fortune seem to smile, And leer upon him for a while, She'll after show him, in the nick Of all his glories, a dog-trick. This any man may sing or say, I' th

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