An Apology for the Life of George Anne Bellamy: Late of Covent-garden Theatre

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author, and sold, 1786

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第61页 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
第72页 - Ah little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death And all the sad variety of pain.
第182页 - For he who fights and runs away May live to fight another day ; But he who is in battle slain Can never rise and fight again.
第72页 - ... they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death And all the sad variety of pain. How many sink in the devouring flood, Or more devouring flame.
第47页 - Indiana, do make and publish this my last will and testament, hereby revoking and making void all former wills by me at any time heretofore made.
第3页 - The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together : our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipt them not ; and our crimes would defpair, if they were not cherifh'd by our virtues.
第52页 - TV oppreflbr's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of defpis'd love, the law's delay, The infolence of office, and the fpurns ., That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himfelf might his quietus make With a bare bodkin...
第67页 - Though plung'd in ills, and exercis'd in care, Yet never let the noble mind despair: When press'd by dangers, and beset with foes, The gods their timely succour interpose ; And when our virtue sinks, o'erwhelm'd with grief, By unforeseen expedients, bring relief.
第69页 - My defperation, though refolute, was not of that violent kind as to urge me to take the fatal plunge. As I fat, I fervently recommended my fpirit to that Being I was going to offend in fo Unwarrantable a manner, by not bearing patiently the affliction he was pleafed I fhould naffer.
第79页 - Cerberus, guards each avenue to the heart, so that pleasure does not approach. Happy! thrice happy ! are those who are blessed with an independent competence, and can confine their wants within the bounds of that competence, be it what it may. To such alone the bread of life is palatable and nourishing. Sweet is the morsel that is acquired by an honest industry, the produce of which is permanent, or that flows from a source which will not fail. A subsistence, that is precarious, or procured by an...

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