The Sporting review, ed. by 'Craven'., Volume 10

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John William Carleton

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Page 336 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? No. Doth he hear it ? No. Is it insensible then ? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living ? No. Why ! Detraction will not suffer it : — therefore I 'll none of it : Honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.
Page 402 - If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work; But when they seldom come, they wish'd for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
Page 204 - Methought I heard a voice cry "Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep," the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast, — Lady M.
Page 282 - Oh Plato ! Plato ! you have paved the way, With your confounded fantasies, to more Immoral conduct by the fancied sway Your system feigns o'er the controlless core Of human hearts, than all the long array Of poets and romancers : — You're a bore, A charlatan, a coxcomb — and have been, At best, no better than a go-between.
Page 153 - To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds More relative than this: the play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Page 169 - The gun fast-thundering, and the winded horn, Would tempt the muse to sing the rural game : How, in his mid-career, the spaniel, struck Stiff by the tainted gale, with open nose, Out-stretch'd, and finely sensible, draws full, Fearful, and cautious, on the latent prey...
Page 370 - Prisoner at the bar, you have been found guilty by a jury of your own countrymen of the crime laid to your charge ; and I must say I entirely agree with the verdict ; for I see ' scoundrel
Page 223 - For a plate, no person can run, either in his own name or in that of any other person...
Page 161 - How divine, The liberty, for frail, for mortal, man To roam at large among unpeopled glens And mountainous retirements, only trod By devious footsteps ; regions consecrate To oldest time ! and, reckless of the storm That keeps the raven quiet in her nest, Be as a presence or a motion — one Among the many there...
Page 36 - Upon asking how he had been taught the art of a cognoscente so very suddenly, he assured me that nothing was more easy. The whole secret consisted in a strict adherence to two rules: the one always to observe, that the picture might have been better if the painter had taken more pains ; and the other, to praise the works of Pietro Perugino.

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