OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society A

Philosophical Transactions was founded in 1665 at The Royal Society, it is the oldest scientific journal printed in the English-speaking world, and the second oldest in the world, after the French Journal des sçavans. In 1887 the journal expanded to become two separate publications, one serving the Physical Sciences: Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society A: Physical, Mathematical and Engineering Sciences (covering mathematical, physical and engineering sciences) and the other focusing on the life sciences: Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences. Warning: template has been deprecated.

## Volumes in Series A

* Volume 178 (1887)
* Volume 179
* Volume 180
* Volume 181
* Volume 182
* Volume 183
* Volume 184 (Index)
* Volume 185
* Volume 186
* Volume 187
* Volume 188
* Volume 189
* Volume 190
* Volume 191
* Volume 192
* Volume 193
* Volume 194
* Volume 195
* Volume 196
* Volume 197
* Volume 198
* Volume 199
* Volume 200
* Volume 201
* Volume 202
* Volume 203
* Volume 204
* Volume 205
* Volume 206
* Volume 207
* Volume 208
* Volume 209
* Volume 210
# Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B

Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society was founded in 1665 at The Royal Society, it is the oldest scientific journal printed in the English-speaking world, and the second oldest in the world, after the French Journal des sçavans. In 1887 the journal expanded to become two separate publications, one serving the Physical Sciences: Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society A: Physical, Mathematical and Engineering Science (covering mathematical, physical and engineering sciences) and the other focusing on the life sciences: Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences. Warning: template has been deprecated.

## Volumes in Series B

* Volume 178 (1887)
* Volume 179
* Volume 180
* Volume 181
* Volume 182
* Volume 183
* Volume 184
* Volume 185
* Volume 186
* Volume 187
* Volume 188
* Volume 189
* Volume 190
* Volume 191
* Volume 192
* Volume 193
* Volume 194
* Volume 195
* Volume 196
* Volume 197
* Volume 198
* Volume 199
* Volume 200
* Volume 201
* Volume 202
* Volume 203
* Volume 204
* Volume 205
* Volume 206
* Volume 207
* Volume 208
* Volume 209
* Volume 210
# Love for Love/Preface

TO THE
RIGHT HONOURABLE
CHARLES
Earl of Dorset and Middlesex,
Lord Chamberlain of His Majesty's Houshold, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, &c.
MY LORD,
A Young Poet, is liable to the same Vanity and Indiscretion with a Young Lover; and the Great Man that smiles upon one, and the Fine Woman that looks kindly upon t' other, are each of 'em in Danger of having the Favour publish'd with the first Opportunity.
But there may be a different Motive, which will a little distinguish the Offenders. For tho' one should have a Vanity in ruining another's Reputation, yet the other may only have an Ambition to advance his own. ​And I beg leave, my Lord, that I may plead the latter, both as the Cause and Excuse of this Dedication.
Whoever is King, is also the Father of his Country; and as no body can dispute Your Lordship's Monarchy in Poetry; so all that are concern'd, ought to acknowledge Your Universal Patronage: And it is only presuming on the Priviledge of a Loyal Subject, that I have ventur'd to make this my Address of Thanks, to Your Lordship; which at the same time, includes a Prayer for Your Protection.
I am not Ignorant of the Common Form of Poetical Dedications, which are generally made up of Panegyricks, where the Authors endeavour to distinguish their Patrons, by the shining Characters they give them, above other Men. But that, my Lord, is not my business at this time, nor is Your Lordship now to be distinguish'd. I am contented with the Honour I do my self in this Epistle; without the Vanity of attempting to add to, or explain Your Lordship's Character.
I confess it is not without some strugling, that I behave my self in this Case, as I ought: For it is very hard to be pleased with a Subject, and yet forbear it. But I chuse rather to follow Pliny's Precept, than his Example, when in his Panegyrick to the Emperour Trajan, he says,
I hope I may be excus'd the Pedantry of a Quotation, when it is so justly apply'd. Here are some Lines ​in the Print, (and which your Lordship read before this Play was Acted) that were omitted on the Stage; and particularly one whole Scene in the Third Act, which not only helps the Design forward with less Precipitation, but also heightens the ridiculous Character of Foresight, which indeed seems to be maim'd without it. But I found my self in great danger of a long Play, and was glad to help it where I could. Tho' notwithstanding my Care, and the kind Reception it had from the Town; I could heartily wish it yet shorter: But the Number of Different Characters represented in it, would have been too much crowded in less room.
This Reflection on Prolixity, (a Fault, for which scarce any one Beauty will attone) warns me not to be tedious now, and detain Your Lordship any longer with the Trifles of,
MY LORD,
Your Lordship's Most Obedient and Most Humble Servant,
WILL. CONGREVE.
# Love for Love/Prologue

A
PROLOGUE
FOR
Sent from an unknown Hand.
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# Love for Love/Prologue spoken at the opening of the New House

PROLOGUE.
Spoken at the opening of the New House,
By Mr. Betterton.
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# Love for Love/Epilogue

EPILOGUE
Spoken at the opening of the New House,
By Mrs. Bracegirdle.
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# Love for Love/Dramatis Personæ

Personæ Dramatis
| MEN. | | By |
| Sir Sampson Legend. | Father to Valentine and Ben. | Mr. Underhill. |
| Valentine. | Fallen under his Father's Displeasure by his expensive way of living, in love with Angelica. | Mr. Betterton. |
| Scandal. | His Friend, a Free Speaker. | Mr. Smith. |
| Tattle. | A half-witted Beau, vain of his Amours, yet valuing himself for Secresie. | Mr. Boman. |
| Ben. | Sir Sampson's Younger Son, half home-bred, and half-Sea-bred, design'd to marry Miss Prue. | Mr. Dogget. |
| Foresight. | An illiterate Old Fellow, peevish and positive, superstitious, and pretending to understand Astrology, Palmistry, Phisiognomy, Omens, Dreams, &c. Uncle to Angelica. | Mr. Sanford. |
| Jeremy. | Servant to Valentine. | Mr. Bowen. |
| Trapland. | A Scrivener. | Mr. Triffusis. |
| Buckram. | A Lawyer. | Mr. Freeman. |
| WOMEN. | | By |
| Angelica. | Niece to Foresight, of a considerable Fortune in her own Hands. | Mrs. Bracegirdle. |
| Mrs. Foresight. | Second Wife to Foresight. | Mrs. Bowman. |
| Mrs. Frail. | Sister to Mrs. Foresight, a Woman of the Town. | Mrs. Barry. |
| Miss Prue. | Daughter to Foresight by a former Wife, a silly, awkard, Country Girl. | Mrs. Ayliff. |
| Nurse | to Miss. | Mrs. Leigh. |
| Jenny. | Maid to Angelica. | Mrs. Lawson. |
| A Steward, Officers, Sailers, and several Servants. ||||
The SCENE in LONDON.
# Old man's wish/The Toper's Advice

THE TOPER’S ADVICE.
Banish sorrow, grief’s a folly, care unbend thy wrinkled bow, Hence dull care and melancholy, wine and wit invites us now, Bacchus sends us all his treasure, Momus sends us jest and song, Eollow, follow, follow, follow, follow pleasure, let us join the jocund throng.
Youth soon flies, tis but a season, time is ever on the wing; Then let's the present moment seize on, none knows what the next may bring: Thus let’s be joyus while time we measure, other’s wisdom we despise, Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow pleasure, to be merry’s to be wise.
Why should then vain care perplex us? why should we not merry be? While we're here, there's naught to vex us, drinking sets our cares all free. Then let’s have drinking without measure, let’s have drink while time we have, Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow pleasure there’s no drinking in the grave.
FINIS.
# The Toper's Advice

* "The toper's advice", in Dandy---o (1799), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The toper's advice", in Dandy---o (n.d.), a chapbook with no printing information
* "The Toper's Advice", in Old man's wish (n.d.), a chapbook with no printing information
# Dandy---o (1)/The toper's advice

THE TOPER’S ADVICE.
BANISH sorrow, grief’s a folly, care unbend the wrinkled brow, ​Hence dull care and melancholy, wine and wit invites us now Bacchus sends us all his treasure, Comus sends us jest and song, Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow pleasure, let us join the jocund throng.
Youth soon flies, 'tis but a season, time is ever on the wing; Then let’s the present moment seize on, none knows what the next may bring: Thus let’s be joyous while time we measure, other’s wisdom we despise,
Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, pleasure, to be merry’s to be wise.
Why should then vain care perplex us? why should we not merry be? While we’re here, there’s nought to vex us, drinking sets our cares all free Then let’s have drinking without measure, let’s have drink while time we have Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, pleasure,
there’s no drinking in the grave,
# Dandy---o (1)/Dandy----O

THE DANDY—O.
Though late, as a waiter, I ran up and down, With bottles glasses, claret, rum and brandy—O! But now an Officer I'm grown, I'll have servants of my own, And be among the Ladies quite the Dandy—O.
My cravat now sticks out like to a pigeon's breast. My hat so smart my sword so long, so handy—O: like a sheep's tail at each ear, my hair's completely drest, and my military cue you see's the Dandy—O.
As my legs are not quite so straight, I'll disguise them in boots, Then who can tell that I am so very bandy—O. And thus this failing is hid, in many raw recruits so their legs they all appear to be the Dandy—O.
​My patent blue-ribb’d stockings, I wear them with a grace, My watch-chains on each side, hang down so grandy—O; With my spy-glass in my hand, patch and paint upon my face, From my feather to my buckles, I'm the Dandy—O.
At concerts and at dances, the Ladies I will court, With words and looks as sweet as sugar-candy—O. And then for fighting duels, O I shall have charming sport, Then dam’me, who but I, shall be the Dandy—O.
And when that a great warrior I come home, I design, With Jacob here to take a nip of brandy—O! For who knows but in time, he’ll hang me up for his sign. Then Caleb, boy, I think you'll be the Dandy—O.
# Dandy---o (1)/Tippet is the Dandy--O

TIPPET is the DANDY—O.
THERE is a pretty chambermaid lives into the south; So tight, so light, so neat, so gay, and so very bandy—O! ​Her breath is like the rose, and the pretty little mouth Of my pretty little Tippet is the Dandy—O! Each part, &c.
Never could I clasp the waist, of Suckey, Sal, or Peg Their arms so red. their ugly legs so bandy—O! But slim and taper is the waist, the neat and pretty leg, Of my pretty little Tippet is the Dandy—O. Each part, &c.
Little Tippet of the south, if she gives me but a smile Chears the cockles of my skipping heart like brandy—O! Each part, each limb, each look, would any one beguile, But take her altogether, she's the Dandy—O.
Chor. Each part, each limb, each look, would any one beguile, But take her altogether she’s the Dandy--O.
# Dandy---o (1)/Picking lilies

PICKING LILIES.
DOwn in yon meadow fresh and gay, Picking lilies the other day, Picking lilies both red and blue, I little thought what love could do.
​Where love is planted there it grows, It buds and blossoms like any rose, It has such a sweet and a pleasant smell, No flower on earth can it excel.
There are thousands, thousands in a room, My love she carries the brightest bloom; She surely is some chosen one, I will have her or I will have none.
I saw a ship sailing on the sea, As deeply loaden as she could be, But not so deep as in love I am, I care not whether I sink or swim.
Must I go bound, shall she go free? Must I love one that loves not me! Why should act such a childish part, As to love one that would break my heart.
I put my hand into the bush Thinking the sweetest role to find; But I prick'd my finger to the bone, And left the sweetest role behind.
If roses be such prickly flowers, They must be gather’d when they are green, For he that wooes an unkind lover, I’m sure he striveth against the stream.
If my love were dead and gone to rest, I would think on her that I love best, I'll wrap her up in linen strong, And think on her when she's dead and gone.
# Dandy---o (1)/The dying swan

THE DYING SWAN.
’TWAS on a river’s verdant side, about the close of day, ⟨A⟩ dying Swan with music try’d ⟨To⟩ chase her cares away.
⟨And⟩ tho’ she ne’er had strain’d her throat, ⟨Nor⟩ tun’d her voice before, ⟨Death⟩ ravish’d with so sweet a note, a while his stroke forebore.
⟨Farewel⟩ tho’ she cry’d, ye silver streams, ⟨Ye⟩ purling waves adieu, ⟨Where⟩ Phoebus us’d to dart his beams, and bless both me and you.
⟨Farewel⟩ ye tender whistling reeds, ⟨Soft⟩ scenes of happy love; ⟨Farewel⟩, ye bright enamell'd meads, where I was wont to rove.
⟨With⟩ you I must no more converse; look, yonder setting sun ⟨Waits,⟩ while I these notes rehearse, and then he must be gone.
⟨Mourn⟩ not, my kind and constant mate, We'll meet again below; ⟨It is⟩ the kind decree of Fate, and I with pleasure go.
​While thus she sung, upon a tree within the adjacent wood, To hear her mournful melody, a Stork attentive stood.
From whence thus to the Swan she spoke What means this song of joy? Is it, fond fool, so kind a stroke that does thy life destroy?
Turn back, deluded bird, and try to keep thy fleeting breath: It is a dismal thing to die, and pleasure ends in death.
Base Stork, the Swain reply'd, give o’er, thy arguments arc vain; If after death we are no more, yet we are free from pain.
But there are soft Elysian shades, and bow’rs of kind repose, Where never any storm invades, nor tempest ever blows.
There in cool streams, and shady woods. I’ll sport the time away; Or, swimming down the chrystal floods, among young Halcons play.
Then pr’ythee cease, or tell me why I have such cause to grieve? Since ‘tis a happiness to die, and 'tis a pain to live.
Printed by J. and M. Robertson, Saltmarket, ⟨1799⟩
# Dandy---o (1)

THE
DANDY---O.
TO WHICH ARE ADDED,
TIPPET IS THE DANDY--O.
THE TOPER'S ADVICE.
PICKING LILIES.
THE DYING SWAN.
GLASGOW,
Printed by J. & M. ROBERTSON
* Dandy----O
* Tippet is the Dandy--O
* The toper's advice
* Picking lilies
* The dying swan
This work was published before January 1, 1930, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Dandy---o (2)

Date is estimated.
THE
DANDY---O.
To which are added,
Tippet is the Dandy---O.
The TOPER’S ADVICE.
PICKING LILIES.
The DYING SWAN.
Entered according to Order.
* The Dandy---O
* Tippet is the Dandy---O
* The Toper's Advice
* Picking Lilies
* The Dying Swan
This work was published before January 1, 1930, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Dandy---o (2)/The dandy---o

THE DANDY - O.
To its own Proper Tune.
THOUGH late, as a waiter, I ran up and down, With bottles, glasses, claret, rum, and brandy—O! But now an officer I’m grown, I’ll have servants of my own, And be among the Ladies quite the Dandy-O.
My cravat does stick out like to a pigeon’s breast, My hat so smart, my sword so long, so handy—O. Like a sheep’s tail at each ear, my hair’s completely drest, And my military cue you see’s the Dandy—0.
As my legs are not quite straight, I’ll disguise them in boots, Then who can tell that I’m for very bandy—O; And thus this failing is hid in many raw recruits, So their legs they all appear to be the Dandy—O.
​My patent blue rib’d-stockings, I wear with a grace, My watch-chains on each side, hang down so grandy—O; With my spy-glass in my hand, patch and paint upon my face, From my feather to my buckles, I’m the Dandy—O.
At concerts and at dances, the Ladies I will court, With words and looks as sweet as sugar-candy—o. And then for fighting duels, O I shall have charming sport, Then dam’me, who but I shall be the Dandy—O
And when that a great warrior I come home, I design,
With Jacob here to take a nip of brandy—O! For who knows but in time, he’ll hang me up for his sign, Then Caleb, boy, I think you’ll be the Dandy—O.
# Dandy---o (2)/Tippet is the dandy---o

TIPPET IS THE DANDY—O!
THERE is a chambermaid lives into the south; So tight, so light, so neat, so gay, so handy,—O! ​Her breath is like the rose, and the pretty little mouth Of pretty little Tippet is the Dandy—O!
Never could I clasp the waist of Sukey, Sal, or Peg, Their arms so red, their ugly legs so bandy—O! But slim and taper is the waist, the neat and pretty leg Of pretty little Tippet is the Dandy—O.
Little Tippet of the south, if she gives me but a smile, Cheers the cockles of my skipping heart like brandy—O! Each part, each limb, each look, would any one beguile,
But take her altogether she’s the Dandy—O!
Each part, each limb, each look, would any one beguile, &c.
# Dandy---o (2)/The toper's advice

THE TOPER’S ADVICE.
BANISH sorrow, grief’s a folly, care unbend the wrinkled brow, Hence dull care and melancholy, wine and wit invite us now. ​Bacchus sends us all his treasure, Comus sends us jest and song, Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, pleasure, let us join the jocund throng
Youth soon flies, ’tis but a season, time is ever on the wing; Then let’s the present moment seize on, none knows what the next may bring: Then let’s be joyous while time we measure, other’s wisdom we despise, Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow pleasure, to be merry’s to be wise.
Why should then vain cares perplex us? why should we not merry be? While we’re here there’s nought to vex us, drinking sets our cares all free. Then let’s have drinking without measure, let’s have drink while time we have, Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, pleasure,
there’s no drinking in the grave.
# Dandy---o (2)/Picking lilies

PICKING LILIES.
To its own Proper Tune.
DOwn in yon meadow fresh and gay, Picking lilies the other day, Picking lilies both red and blue, I little thought what love can do.
​Where love is planted there it grows,
It buds and blossoms like any rose, It has such a sweet and pleasant smell, No flower on earth can it excel
There are thousands, thousands in a room, My love she carries the brightest bloom, She surely is some chosen one, I will have her or I will have none.
I saw a ship sailing on the sea, As deeply loaden as she could be,
But not so deep as in love I am, I care not whether I sink or swim.
Must I go bound, shall she go free? Must I love one that loves not me? Why should I act such a childish part, As to love one that would break my heart.
I put my hand into a bush, Thinking the sweetest rose to find; But I prick’d my finger to the bone, And left the sweetest rose behind.
If roses be such a prickly flower, They must be gather’d when they are green For he that woes an unkind lover, I’m sure he thrives against the stream.
If my love were dead and gone to rest, I would think on her that I love best, I’ll wrap her up in the linen strong, And think on her when she's dead & gone.
# Dandy---o (2)/The dying swan

THE DYING SWAN.
To its own Proper Tune.
’TWAS on a river’s verdant side, about the close of day, A dying swan with music try’d to chace her cares away.
And tho’ she ne’er had strain’d her throat, or tun’d her voice before. Death, ravish’d with so sweet a note, a while the stroke forebore.
Farewell, she cry’d, ye silver streams,
ye purling waves adieu, Where Phoebus us’d to dart his beams, and bless both me and you.
Farewell, ye tender whistling reeds, soft scenes of happy love; Farewell, ye bright enamell’d meads, where I was wont to rove.
With you I must no more converse; look, yonder setting sun Waits, while I these last notes rehearse, and then he must be gone.
Mourn not, my kind and constant mate, we’ll meet again below: It is the kind decree of Fate, and I with pleasure go,
​While thus she sung, upon a tree within th’ adjacent wood, To hear her mournful melody a Stork attentive stood.
From whence thus to the Swan she spoke: what means this song of joy? Is it, fond fool, so kind a stroke that does thy life destroy?
Turn back, deluding bird, and try to keep thy fleeting breath: It is a dismal thing to die, and pleasure ends in death.
Base Stork, the Swan reply’d, give o’er, thy arguments are vain; If after death we are no more, yet we are free from pain.
But there are soft Elysian shades, and bow’rs of kind repose, Where never any storm invades, nor tempests ever blows
There in cool streams, and shady woods, I’ll sport the time away; Or, swimming down the chrystal floods, among young Halcons play.
Then pr’ythee cease, or tell me why I have such cause to grieve. Since ’tis a happiness to die, and ’tis a pain to live.
FINIS.