The Central literary magazine, Volume 3

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Page 267 - Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried, What hell it is in suing long to bide ; To lose good days that might be better spent ; To waste long nights in pensive discontent; To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow ; To feed on hope ; to pine with fear and sorrow ; To have thy Prince's grace, yet want her peers...
Page 43 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log, at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall, and die that night; It was the plant, and flower of light. In small proportions, we just beauties see: And in short measures, life may perfect be.
Page 126 - I have of late— but wherefore I know not— lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
Page 102 - You shall well and truly try, and true deliverance make, between our Sovereign Lord the King and the prisoner at the bar, whom you shall have in charge, and a true verdict give, according to the evidence. So help you God.
Page 55 - The whole is a passing pageant, where we should sit as unconcerned at the issues, for life or death, as at a battle of the frogs and mice. But, like Don Quixote, we take part against the puppets, and quite as impertinently. We dare not contemplate an Atlantis, a scheme, out of which our coxcombical moral sense is for a little transitory ease excluded.
Page 148 - When banished by our miseries abroad (As suddenly we shall be), to seek out In some far climate, where our names are strangers, For charitable succour; wilt thou then, When in a bed of straw we shrink together, And the bleak winds shall whistle round our heads, — Wilt thou then talk thus to me ? Wilt thou then Hush my cares thus, and shelter me with love ? Bel.
Page 108 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Page 148 - I'ma beggar — Undone by fortune, and in debt to thee. Want! worldly want! that hungry, meagre fiend Is at my heels and chases me in view. Canst thou bear cold and hunger? Can these limbs, Fram'd for the tender offices of love, Endure the bitter gripes of smarting poverty?
Page 147 - Revenge! the attribute of gods, they stamped it With their great image on our natures; die! Consider well the cause that calls upon thee: And if thou'rt base enough, die then: remember Thy Belvidera suffers: Belvidera! Die ! — damn first ! — what ! be decently interred In a churchyard, and mingle thy brave dust With stinking rogues that rot in dirty winding-sheets, Surfeit-slain fools, the common dung o' th
Page 146 - Priuli's cruel hand hath signed it. Here stood a ruffian with a horrid face Lording it o'er a pile of massy plate, Tumbled into a heap for public sale: There was another making...

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