The British Essayists: Connoisseur

Front Cover
C. and J. Rivington, 1823 - English essays
 

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page xl - He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies; and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions?
Page 121 - Of all the days that's in the week I dearly love but one day — And that's the day that comes betwixt A Saturday and Monday...
Page 35 - They would not then, if they were trusted with fair and hopeful armies, suffer them for want of just and wise discipline to shed away from about them like sick feathers, though they be never so oft...
Page 132 - Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my latter end be like his.
Page 65 - Before my dying day. But we will have a merry jeast, For to be talked long : You shall make me a bond...
Page 62 - ... carried off an immense booty. This account came in a private letter to Paul Secchi, a very considerable merchant in the City, who had large concerns in those parts, which he had insured. Upon receiving this news, he sent for the insurer, Sampson Ceneda, a Jew, and acquainted him with it.
Page xxxiii - This coffee-house is every night crowded with men of parts. Almost every one you meet is a polite scholar and a wit. Jokes and bans mots are echoed from box to box ; every branch of literature is critically examined, and the merit of every production of the press, or performance at the theatres, weighed and determined.
Page 295 - I got five bay-leaves, and pinned four of them to the four corners of my pillow, and the fifth to the middle; and then, if I dreamt of my sweetheart, Betty said we should be married before the year was out. But to make it more sure, I boiled an egg hard, and took out the yolk, and filled it with salt ; and when I went to bed, ate it, shell and all, without speaking or drinking after it. We also wrote our lovers...
Page 64 - Nor ever yet did any good To them in streets that lie. His life was like a barrow hogge, That liveth many a day, Yet never once doth any good, Until men will him slay. Or like a filthy heap of dung, That lyeth in a whoard ; Which never can do any good, Till it be spread abroad.
Page 28 - I believe that man is a beast; that the soul is the body, and that the body is the soul; and that after death there is neither body nor soul.

Bibliographic information