Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?

The Cardinal is at his wit's end - it is true that he had not far to go.

Alas! how deeply painful is all payment!

I have no consistency, except in politics; and that probably arises from my indifference to the subject altogether.

Every day confirms my opinion on the superiority of a vicious life, and if Virtue is not its own reward, I don't know any other stipend annexed to it.

A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a fools-cap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town.

A little still she strove, and much repented, And whispering “I will ne'er consent”—consented.