Woman's a riddle; or, Baby Warmstrey, Volume 2

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Page 276 - Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes ; There held in holy passion still, Forget thyself to marble, till With a sad, leaden, downward cast, Thou fix them on the earth as fast.
Page 294 - Thy heart—thy heart!—I wake and sigh, And sleep to dream till day, Of the truth that gold can never buy— Of the baubles that it may.
Page 236 - Where be your gibes now ? your gambols ? your songs ? your flashes of merriment
Page 294 - Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep ; Full seldom may my friends such vigils keep
Page 20 - I have seen enough to convince me what kind of man he is. The fate of us poor women is hard : we all wish for husbands, and they are the torment of our

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