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Стр. 152 - I behold like a Spanish great galleon and an English man-of-war. Master Coleridge, like the former, was built far higher in learning, solid, but slow in his performances. CVL, with the English man-of-war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about, and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention.
Стр. 152 - Ah Ben! Say how or when Shall we, thy guests, Meet at those lyric feasts, Made at the Sun, The Dog, the Triple Tun ; Where we such clusters had, As made us nobly wild, not mad ? And yet each verse of thine Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine.
Стр. 138 - WEEP with me all you that read This little story ; And know, for whom a tear you shed Death's self is sorry. 'Twas a child that so did thrive In grace and feature, As Heaven and Nature seemed to strive Which owned the creature.
Стр. 27 - It may, by metaphor, apply itself Unto the general disposition: As when some one peculiar quality Doth so possess a man, that it doth draw All his affects, his spirits, and his powers, In their confluctions, all to run one way, This may be truly said to be a humour.
Стр. 53 - But he has done his robberies so openly, that one may see he fears not to be taxed by any law. He invades authors like a monarch ; and what would be theft in other poets, is only victory in him.
Стр. 141 - Have you seen but a bright lily grow Before rude hands have touched it? Have you marked but the fall of the snow Before the soil hath smutched it? Have you felt the wool of beaver, Or swan's down ever? Or have smelt o' the bud o' the brier Or the nard in the fire?
Стр. 162 - He is a great lover and praiser of himself; a contemner and scorner of others; given rather to lose a friend than a jest; jealous of every word and action of those about him (especially after drink, which is one of the elements in which he liveth...
Стр. 159 - He cursed Petrarch for redacting verses to sonnets, which he said were like that tyrant's bed, where some who were too short were racked, others too long cut short.
Стр. 148 - England's high Chancellor, the destined heir In his soft cradle to his father's chair ; Whose even thread the fates spin round and full Out of their choicest and their whitest wool.
Стр. 151 - Of his dull life ; then when there hath been thrown Wit able enough to justify the town For three days past ; wit that might warrant be For the whole City to talk foolishly Till that were cancell'd ; and when that was gone, We left an air behind us, which alone Was able to make the two next companies Right witty ; though but downright fools, mere wise...