The Director: A Weekly Literary Journal: Containing I. Essays, on Subjects of Literature, the Fine Arts and Manners. II. Bibliographana. Account of Rare and Curious Books and of the Book Sales in this Country, from the Close of the Seventeenth Century. III. Royal Institution. Analyses of the Lectures Delivered Weekly. IV. British Gallery. Description of the Principal Pictures Exhibited ... V. 1-2: Jan. 24-July 4, 1807, Volume 2
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Page 229 - That skins the vice o' the top. Go to your bosom ; Knock there ; and ask your heart what it doth know That's like my brother's fault ; if it confess A natural guiltiness such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother's life.
Page 285 - Of idly-busy men the restless fry Run bustling to and fro with foolish haste, In search of pleasures vain that from them fly, Or which obtain'd the caitiffs dare not taste: When nothing is enjoy'd, can there be greater waste?
Page 228 - Alas ! alas ! Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; And He that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy: how would you be, If He, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are ? O, think on that ; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made.
Page 347 - I no sooner (saith he) come into the library, but I bolt the door to me, excluding lust, ambition, avarice, and all such vices, whose nurse is Idleness, the mother of Ignorance, and Melancholy herself, and in the very lap of eternity, amongst so many divine souls, I take my seat with so lofty a spirit and sweet content, that I pity all our great ones, and rich men that know not this happiness.
Page 218 - Six days shalt thou labour, and do all that thou hast to do; but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God. In it thou shalt do no manner of work, thou, and thy son, and thy daughter, thy man-servant, and thy maidservant, thy cattle, and the stranger that is within thy gates.
Page 85 - PAPPE with an hatchet, alias, a figge for my God Sonne, or Cracke me this nut, or a Countrie cuffe, that is, a sound boxe of the eare, for the idiot Martin to hold his peace, seeing the patch will take no warning.
Page 212 - But now I have' written unto you not to keep company, if any man that is called a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner; with such an one no not to eat.
Page 91 - Imbrown'd with native bronze, lo ! Henley stands. Tuning his voice, and balancing his hands. How fluent nonsense trickles from his tongue. How sweet the periods, neither said...
Page 244 - If thou afflict them in any wise, and they cry at all unto me, I will surely hear their cry ; and my wrath shall wax hot, and I will kill you with the sword ; and your wives shall be widows, and your children fatherless.