| Citation |
BC.770.075
21-25 Jun 1770:2013 (208)
Upon a Rope we'll hang all our care. Beg. Opera.
There are strange reverses, Mr. Woodfall, in human
affairs. We are to day on the highest spoke of fortune's
wheel; to-morrow involved in a misery; this moment swimming
on an ocean of joy and satisfaction; the next over shadowed
with a cloud of sorrow. Not virtue, not even patriotism,
can always justify dancing and festivity; nor can the Lord
Mayor's repeated feasts expel those cares that hover round
the high vaulted palaces of the sons of Freedom. . .
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