Whitefriars, Or, the Days of Charles the Second (1-2); An Historical Romance
Paperback
Currently unavailable to order
ISBN10: 1150638966
ISBN13: 9781150638961
Publisher: General Books
Pages: 406
Weight: 1.31
Height: 0.90 Width: 9.01 Depth: 5.98
Language: English
ISBN13: 9781150638961
Publisher: General Books
Pages: 406
Weight: 1.31
Height: 0.90 Width: 9.01 Depth: 5.98
Language: English
Volume: 1-2 General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1851 Original Publisher: G. Routledge Subjects: Great Britain History / Europe / Great Britain Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial access to Million-Books.com where you can select from more than a million books for free. Excerpt: Well, welli fill up your glasses -- but though it be a merry life to lead, I doubt me if it end in so cheery a death. Pooh, pooh, man, enjoy life while it lasts, and take death when it comes, said Blood. Why, Jack, the saint and the sinner both come to the same thing -- a statue cut in flesh, that's all. I warrant me, you have chiselled many such a statue with your dagger and Toledo, Blood, said Duval. And to my thought, I can see one of your handiwork even now. What canst thou see, fool? said the colonel, giving a fearful glance round the apartment, and with a forced laugh he began sipping his wine. Let us have no more of that folly, gentlemen, interrupted Rowley. But no marvel we are turning into the green and yellow leaves of discourse: our punch-bowl is empty as an honest man's purse -- Mine host, look to it. Punch for ever ! exclaimed Simon, bustling up. I wonder if the water boiled last bowl -- methought it smacked too much of the lemons. And he tottered out with the nectar-pot, as Wilmot called it. Come, come, Claude, murder or no murder, 'tis ten years agone, said Rowley, watching the melancholy musing countenance of Duval. And as the rascal Scot says, let bygones be bygones; though, by th by, they themselves never forgive. Cleer up, Jack! -- what avails looking so sad, man ? -- Why art so down in the muzzle ? Faith, my lord, I have been in better spirits, replied Wilmot, with an absent smile. My health fails, and methinks, if what Dr. Lloyd warns...
