Hudibras: In Three Parts, Written in the Time of the Late Wars, 2±Ç

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J. Bentham, 1744 - 424ÆäÀÌÁö

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164 ÆäÀÌÁö - To make up one Hermaphrodite ; Still amorous, and fond, and billing, Like Philip and Mary on a shilling...
19 ÆäÀÌÁö - But as a dog that turns the spit Bestirs himself, and plies his feet To climb the wheel, but all in vain, His own weight brings him down again: And still he's in the self-same place Where at his setting out he was...
176 ÆäÀÌÁö - Soon as she spreads her hand, th' aerial guard Descend, and sit on each important card : First Ariel perch'd upon a matadore, Then each, according to the rank they bore ; For sylphs, yet mindful of their ancient race, Are, as when women, wondrous fond of place.
85 ÆäÀÌÁö - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, — often the surfeit of our own behaviour, — we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars...
91 ÆäÀÌÁö - And though you overcame the bear, The dogs beat you at Brentford fair ; Where sturdy butchers broke your noddle, And handled you like a fop-doodle. Quoth Hudibras, I now perceive You are no conj'rer, by your leave : That paultry story is untrue, And forg'd to cheat such gulls as you.
74 ÆäÀÌÁö - Ferdinand' Mendez Pinto was but a type of thee, thou liar of the first magnitude.
87 ÆäÀÌÁö - There's but the twinkling of a star Between a man of peace and war, A thief and justice, fool and knave, A huffing officer and a slave, A crafty lawyer and pick-pocket, A great philosopher and a block-head, A formal preacher and a player, A learn'd...
21 ÆäÀÌÁö - Th' intelligible world he knew, And all men dream on't to be true: That in this world there's not a wart That has not there a counterpart; Nor can there, on the face of ground An individual beard be found That has not, in that foreign nation, A fellow of the self-same fashion ; So cut, so coloured, and so curl'd, As those are in th
261 ÆäÀÌÁö - O' th' compass in their bones and joints, Can by their pangs and aches find All turns and changes of the wind, And better than by Napier's bones Feel in their own the age of moons...

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