Beatrice; or, The Wycherly family, Volume 1

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A.K. Newman, 1824
 

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Page 77 - Alas ! the love of women ! it is known To be a lovely and a fearful thing ; For all of theirs upon that die is thrown, And if 'tis lost, life hath no more to bring To them but mockeries of the past alone...
Page 344 - The Balance of Comfort, or the Old Maid and the Married Woman, by Mrs. Ross, 4th edition, 3 vols 0 16 0 Mademoiselle de la Fayette, by Madame Genlis, % vols.
Page 61 - An elegant sufficiency, content, Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, Ease and alternate labour, useful life, Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven!
Page 313 - In that dread moment, how the frantic soul Raves round the walls of her clay tenement, Runs to each avenue, and shrieks for help, But shrieks in vain ! how wishfully she looks On all she's leaving, now no longer hers!
Page 304 - The Modern Villa and Ancient Castle, or the Peer and Alderman, by Miss Byron, Author of the Englishwoman, &c. 3 vols ............................. 0 15 0 Festival of St.
Page 344 - Prejudice, or Physiognomy, by Azile D'Arcy, 3 vols... 0 15 0 Jessy, or the Rose of Donald's Cottage, by the Author of the Bravo of Bohemia, 4 vols...
Page 76 - But where to find that happiest spot below, Who can direct, when all pretend to know ? The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own ; Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, And his long nights of revelry and ease ; The naked negro, panting at the line, Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine...
Page 344 - The Foundling of Devonshire, or Who is she ? by Miss CD Haynes, 5 vols...
Page 347 - Strange cozenage ! None would live past years again, Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain ; And, from the dregs of life, think to receive, What the first sprightly running could not give. I'm tired with waiting for this chemic gold, Which fools us young, and beggars us when old.
Page 105 - Ah, fields belov'd in vain, Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales, that from ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.

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