Colley Cibber

The will for the deed.

The will for the deed.

Now, by St. Paul, the work goes bravely on.

Now, by St. Paul, the work goes bravely on.

Tea! thou soft, thou sober, sage, and venerable
liquid, . . . thou female tongue-running, smile-smoothing,
heart-opening, wind-tippling read more

Tea! thou soft, thou sober, sage, and venerable
liquid, . . . thou female tongue-running, smile-smoothing,
heart-opening, wind-tippling cordial, to whose glorious
insipidity I owe the happiest moment of my life, let me fall
prostrate.

Words are but empty thanks.

Words are but empty thanks.

I've lately had two spiders
Crawling upon my startled hopes--
Now though thy friendly hand has brushed read more

I've lately had two spiders
Crawling upon my startled hopes--
Now though thy friendly hand has brushed 'em from me,
Yet still they crawl offensive to mine eyes:
I would have some kind friend to tread upon 'em.