INDEX TO FIRST LINES. IS an Angel of blushing eighteen. A mansion, large but not too grand As I sat in the Cafe I said to myself As some fond Virgin, whom her mother's care At Cheltenham, where one drinks one's fill PAGE 47 187 177 162 200 214 184 133 114 Come hither and listen, whoever Come, Laura, patience-Time and spring Dear Alice! you'll laugh when you know it Fair cousin mine! the golden days. Gents, take yer picters!" With a will I hope I'm fond of much that's good I remember the time ere his temples were grey If any man loves comfort, and has little cash to buy it, he. If I were you, when ladies at the play, sir If life were never bitter 137 117 181 In London I never know what I'd be at In sorrow and joy she has seen the beginning 2 132 219 told In the days of my great grandmamma, I've been Invitations I will write It's tea-time, nurse; I'll take your place Lament, lament, Sir Isaac Heard 30 Little Laurette was sitting beside 59 Lo! where the gaily-vestur'd throng 168 Lord Harry has written a novel. 217 Lords, knights, and squires, the numerous band No Times! no book!-and I must wait Not at home! not at home! close my curtain again 121 65 96 Now don't look so glum and so sanctified, please O Brighton in November. Oft, you have ask'd me, Granville, why Old coat, for some three or four seasons Perhaps you'll call me an old fool Piccadilly! shops, palaces, bustle, and breeze Say, Lucy, what enamour'd spark See Richmond is clad in a mantle of snow She pass'd up the aisle on the arm of her sire Shock's fate I mourn! poor Shock is now no more So Pygwyggyne is going to marry The archery meeting is fixed for the Third The men are all clubbing together The sun was now withdrawn. Then, behind, all my hair is done up in a plat 195 209 7 219 179 164 82 14 156 140 There's a tempting bit of greenery—of rus in urbe 147 This is my eldest daughter, sir,-her mother's only This old velvet coat has grown queer, I admit This was dear Willie's brief despatch Though the voice of modern schools Though walls but thin our hearths divide. Thus Kitty, beautiful and young 'Tis the Gretchen's piteous story Tuderley woodlands, breezy and bright 'Twas all over between us, you thought, when we 'Twas night; and Flavia to her room retir'd. 150 What are you, Lady?—nought is here What is London's last new lion? Pray inform me, When some mad bard sits down to muse supremest? . Why don't the men propose, mamma? 31 160 159 94 32 Year by year do Beauty's daughters 182 100 116 You'll come to our Ball ;-since we parted 107 171 Your labours, my talented brother. 135 CHISWICK PRESS :-C. WHITTINGHAM, TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. |