THE NOVELS OF MR. SAMUEL RICHARDSON

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Pagina 285 - ... ferret eyes. Her mouth was distorted. She pouted out her blubber-lips, as if to bellows up wind and sputter into her horse-nostrils; and her chin was curdled, and more than usually prominent with passion.
Pagina 16 - O the sweet discomposure! - Her bared shoulders, and arms so inimitably fair and lovely: her spread hands crossed over her charming neck; yet not half concealing its glossy beauties: the scanty coat, as she rose from me, giving the whole of her admirable shape, and fine-turn'd limbs: her eyes running over, yet seeming to threaten future vengeance...
Pagina 153 - For th' other, as great clerks have done. He could reduce all things to acts, And knew their natures by abstracts; Where Entity and Quiddity, The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly; Where truth in person does appear, Like words congeal'd in northern air.
Pagina 298 - I am an unworthy child — yet I am your child Paper III A lady took a great fancy to a young lion, or a bear, I forget which — but a bear, or a tiger, I believe it was. It was made her a present of when a whelp. She fed it with her own hand : she nursed up the wicked cub with great tenderness; and would play with it without fear or apprehension of danger: and it was obedient to all her commands: and its...
Pagina 297 - I sat down to say a great deal — my heart was full — -I did not know what to say first — and thought, and grief, and confusion, and (O my poor head!) I cannot tell what — and thought, and grief, and confusion, came crowding so thick upon me; one would be first, another would be first, all would be first; so I can write nothing at all. Only that, whatever they have done to me, I cannot tell; but I am no longer what I was in any one thing.
Pagina 301 - ... yours, my benevolent heart would have made me fly to the succour of such a poor distressed — with what pleasure would I have raised the dejected head, and comforted the desponding heart ! — But who now shall pity the poor wretch, who has increased, instead of diminished, the number of the miserable ! PAPER X.
Pagina 321 - Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, And yet so humble too, as not to scorn The meanest country cottages : " His poppy grows among the corn." The halcyon Sleep will never build his nest In any stormy breast. 'Tis not enough that he does find Clouds and darkness in their mind ; Darkness but half his work will do : 'Tis not enough ; he must find quiet too.
Pagina 298 - ... with its growth; so that, like a lap-dog, it would follow her all over the house. But mind what followed : at last, somehow, neglecting to satisfy its hungry maw, or having otherwise disobliged it on some occasion, it resumed its nature; and on a sudden fell upon her, and tore her in pieces. — And who was most to blame, I pray ? The brute, or the lady ? The lady, surely ! — For what she did was out of nature, out of character, at least : what it did was in its own nature.

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