Chronicles of the Canongate: First series

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Samuel H. Parker, 1845
 

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Page xix - He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch, To gain or lose it all.
Page 98 - A wise physician, skill'd our wounds to heal, Is more than armies to the common weal.
Page 96 - Highlands — deserved the compliment of the poet, who, whether he came from our sister kingdom, and spoke in his own dialect, or whether he supposed those whom he addressed...
Page xxxiii - Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed ? Do you hear, let them be well used, for they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the time : after your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.
Page xxxvi - ... keep the word of promise to the ear, and break it to the hope" — we have presumed to court the assistance of the friends of the drama to strengthen our >nfant institution.
Page xliii - And say, without our hopes, without our fears, Without the home that plighted love endears, Without the smile from partial beauty won, Oh, what were man ? A world without a sun.
Page xxxvi - The sixth age shifts into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, with spectacles on nose and pouch on side; his youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide for his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, turning again towards childish treble, pipes and whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, that ends this strange eventful history, is second childishness and mere oblivion; sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Page 18 - His ready help was ever nigh, Where hopeless anguish pour'd his groan, And lonely want retired to die.

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