Belgravia: A London Magazine, 25. sējums

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Chatto and Windus, 1875

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124. lappuse - How absolute the knave is ! we must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken note of it ; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe. — How long hast thou been a grave-maker? 1 Clo. Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day that our last King Hamlet o'ercame Fortinbras.
74. lappuse - Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and when he has reached the ground, encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind ; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it.
74. lappuse - I am a solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to...
5. lappuse - And put it to the foil : but you, O you, So perfect, and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best.
74. lappuse - ... Seven years, My Lord, have now passed since I waited in your outward rooms or was repulsed from your door, during which time I have been pushing on my work through difficulties of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron before.
523. lappuse - Trenchmore, and the Cushion-Dance, and then all the Company dance, Lord and Groom, Lady and Kitchen-Maid, no distinction. So in our Court, in Queen Elizabeth's time, Gravity and State were kept up.
69. lappuse - He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small. Who dares not put it to the touch, To win or lose it all.
50. lappuse - Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process of my death Rankly abus'd; but know, thou noble youth, The serpent that did sting thy father's life Now wears his crown.
188. lappuse - The time is out of joint : — 0, cursed spite, That ever I was born to set it right ! — Nay, come, let 's go together.
160. lappuse - But you will go on working ?' exclaims Editha, with a surprised look ; ' your ambition is not dead ?' His only answer for the moment is a sigh. ' Progress is a grand word,' he says at last. ' but how few they are who have the elements of progress in their nature ! To go up like a rocket and come down like a stick seems the natural tendency of human genius.

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