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Updated: June 16, 2025
I saw huge Quantities of Money drawn in, and little or none issued out; vast Prizes taken from the Enemy, and then taken away again at home by Friends; Ships sav'd on the Sea, and sunk in the Prize Offices; Merchants escaping from Enemies at Sea, and be Pirated by Sham Embargoes, Counterfeit Claims, Confiscations, &c a-shoar: There we saw Turkey-Fleets taken into Convoys, and Guarded to the very Mouth of the Enemy, and then abandon'd for their better Security: Here we saw Mons.
Such false Impressions are owing to the abandon'd Writings of Men of Wit, and the awkward Imitation of the rest of Mankind. For this Reason, Sir ROGER was saying last Night, that he was of Opinion that none but Men of fine Parts deserve to be hanged.
That you abandon'd her was just, she was not worth retaining in your heart, nor could be worth defending with your sword: but grant her false; oh Philander! How does her perfidy entitle you to me?
Yet he, of empires and of men the shame, Quitting the honour of a ruler's name, Meanly at once abandon'd Rome and fame. Now this to Heaven it self does fears impart, And the mild train of quiet gods depart; Frighted with wars they quit the impious world, And leave mankind in wild confusion hurl'd.
By conscience deserted, by law unrestrain'd, A felon, convicted, unblushing, and chain'd; Too late from the dark dream of ruin he woke To remember the wife whose fond heart he had broke; The children abandon'd to sorrow and shame, Their deepest misfortune the brand of his name. Oh, dire was the curse he invoked on his soul, Then gave his last mite for a draught of the bowl!
Last summer I found a particularly secluded little dell off one side by my creek, originally a large dug-out marl-pit, now abandon'd, fill'd, with bushes, trees, grass, a group of willows, a straggling bank, and a spring of delicious water running right through the middle of it, with two or three little cascades. Here I retreated every hot day, and follow it up this summer.
Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends, ''Tis right, quoth he: 'thus misery doth part The flux of company': anon a careless herd, Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, And never stays to greet him. 'Ah, quoth Jaques, 'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; 'Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?"
As afternoon pass'd, and evening came, the streets, the bar-rooms, knots everywhere, listeners, questioners, terrible yarns, bugaboo, mask'd batteries, our regiment all cut up, &c. stories and story-tellers, windy, bragging, vain centres of street-crowds. Resolution, manliness, seem to have abandon'd Washington.
Set not thy Heart on transitory Mortal, there's better things in store besides, I have promis'd her to a Farmer for his Son. Come in with me, and bring the Telescope. Doctor and Scaramouch. Harlequin comes out on the Stage. Har. My Mistress Mopsophil to marry a Farmer's Son! What, am I then forsaken, abandon'd by the false fair One?
The griefs and dishonour of our noble parents, who have been eminent for virtue and piety, oh suffer them not to be regarded in this censuring world as the most unhappy of all the race of old nobility; thou art the darling child, the joy of all, the last hope left, the refuge of their sorrow, for they, alas, have had but unkind stars to influence their unadvised off-spring; no want of virtue in their education, but this last blow of fate must strike them dead; think, think of this, my child, and yet retire from ruin; haste, fly from destruction which pursues thee fast; haste, haste and save thy parents and a sister, or what is more dear, thy fame; mine has already received but too many desperate wounds, and all through my unkind lord's growing passion for thee, which was most fatally founded on my ruin, and nothing but my ruin could advance it; and when, my sister, thou hast run thy race, made thyself loathed, undone and infamous as hell, despis'd, scorn'd and abandon'd by all, lampoon'd, perhaps diseas'd; this faithless man, this cause of all will leave thee too, grow weary of thee, nauseated by use; he may perhaps consider what sins, what evils, and what inconveniencies and shames thou'st brought him to, and will not be the last shall loathe and hate thee: for though youth fancy it have a mighty race to run of pleasing vice and vanity, the course will end, the goal will be arrived to at the last, where they will sighing stand, look back, and view the length of precious time they've fool'd away; when traversed over with honour and discretion, how glorious were the journey, and with what joy the wearied traveller lies down and basks beneath the shades that end the happy course.
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