The Memoirs of Charles Westcote: In which is Introduced the History of the Monk Francisco

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booksellers, 1807 - 323 psl.

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76 psl. - Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise ! * Each stamps its image as the other flies.
30 psl. - Honour's a sacred tie, the law of kings, The noble mind's distinguishing perfection, That aids and strengthens virtue, where it meets her, And imitates her actions, where she is not : It ought not to be sported with.
299 psl. - Inspiration round. As o'er the dusky furniture I bend, Each chair awakes the feelings of a friend.
319 psl. - And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. Duch. Alas ! poor Richard ! where rides he the while ? York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him...
300 psl. - Her tattered mantle, and her hood of straw ; Her moving lips, her caldron brimming o'er ; The drowsy brood that on her back she bore, Imps, in the barn with mousing owlet bred, From rifled roost at nightly revel fed ; Whose dark eyes...
301 psl. - Oh haste, unfold the hospitable hall ! That hall, where once, in antiquated state, The chair of justice held the grave debate.
256 psl. - ... doing his duty as a rational creature, that, though he should miss truth, he will not miss the reward of it. For he governs his assent right, and places it as he should, who, in any case or matter whatsoever, believes or disbelieves according as reason directs him. He that doth otherwise, transgresses against his own light, and misuses those faculties which were given him to no other end, but to search and follow the clearer evidence and greater probability.
300 psl. - Forgot to trace the feathered feet of Time ? That massive beam, with curious carvings wrought, Whence the caged linnet soothed my pensive thought ; Those muskets, cased with venerable rust ; Those once-loved forms, still breathing thro...
300 psl. - twas heaven to hear, When soft it spoke a promised pleasure near ; And has its sober hand, its simple chime, Forgot to trace the...
255 psl. - He that believes, without having any reason for believing, may be in love with his own fancies ; but neither seeks truth as he ought, nor pays the obedience due to his Maker...

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