GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 1328-1400.
(_From the text of Tyrwhitt._)
    WHANNE that April with his shoures sote
    The droughte of March hath perced to the rote.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 1._
    And smale foules maken melodie,
    That slepen alle night with open eye,
    So priketh hem nature in hir corages;
    Than longen folk to gon on pilgrimages.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 9._
    And of his port as meke as is a mayde.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 69._
    He was a veray parfit gentil knight.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 72._
    He coude songes make, and wel endite.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 95._
    Ful wel she sange the service devine,
    Entuned in hire nose ful swetely;
    And Frenche she spake ful fayre and fetisly,
    After the scole of Stratford atte bowe,
    For Frenche of Paris was to hire unknowe.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 122._
    A Clerk ther was of Oxenforde also.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 287._
    For him was lever han at his beddes hed
    A twenty bokes, clothed in black or red,
    Of Aristotle, and his philosophie,
    Than robes riche, or fidel, or sautrie.
    But all be that he was a philosophre,
    Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 295._
    And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 310._
    Nowher so besy a man as he ther n' as,
    And yet he semed besier than he was.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 323._
    His studie was but litel on the Bible.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 440._
    For gold in phisike is a cordial;
    Therefore he loved gold in special.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 445._
    Wide was his parish, and houses fer asonder.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 493._
    This noble ensample to his shepe he yaf,
    That first he wrought, and afterwards he taught.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 498._
    But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve,
    He taught; but first he folwed it himselve.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 529._
    And yet he had a thomb of gold parde.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 565._
    Who so shall telle a tale after a man,
    He moste reherse, as neighe as ever he can,
    Everich word, if it be in his charge,
    All speke he never so rudely and so large;
    Or elles he moste tellen his tale untrewe,
    Or feinen thinges, or finden wordes newe.
_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 733._
    For May wol have no slogardie a-night.
    The seson priketh every gentil herte,
    And maketh him out of his slepe to sterte.
_Canterbury Tales. The Knightes Tale. Line 1044._
    That field hath eyen, and the wood hath ears.
_Canterbury Tales. The Knightes Tale. Line 1524._
    Up rose the sonne, and up rose Emelie.
_Canterbury Tales. The Knightes Tale. Line 2275._
    Min be the travaille, and thin be the glorie.
_Canterbury Tales. The Knightes Tale. Line 2408._
    To maken vertue of necessite.
_Canterbury Tales. The Knightes Tale. Line 3044._
    And brought of mighty ale a large quart.
_Canterbury Tales. The Milleres Tale. Line 3497._
    Ther n' is no werkman whatever he be,
    That may both werken wel and hastily.
    This wol be done at leisure parfitly.
_Canterbury Tales. The Marchantes Tale. Line 585._
    Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken.
_Canterbury Tales. The Reves Prologue. Line 3880._
    The gretest clerkes ben not the wisest men.
_Canterbury Tales. The Reves Tale. Line 4051._
    So was hire joly whistle wel ywette.
_Canterbury Tales. The Reves Tale. Line 4153._
    In his owen grese I made him frie.
_Canterbury Tales. The Reves Tale. Line 6069._
    And for to see, and eek for to be seie.
_Canterbury Tales. The Wif of Bathes Prologue. Line 6134._
    I hold a mouses wit not worth a leke,
    That hath but on hole for to sterten to.
_Canterbury Tales. The Wif of Bathes Prologue. Line 6154._
    Loke who that is most vertuous alway,
    Prive and apert, and most entendeth ay
    To do the gentil dedes that he can,
    And take him for the gretest gentilman.
_Canterbury Tales. The Wif of Bathes Tale. Line 6695._
    That he is gentil that doth gentil dedis.
_Canterbury Tales. The Wif of Bathes Tale. Line 6752._
    This flour of wifly patience.
_Canterbury Tales. The Clerkes Tale. Part v. Line 8797._
    They demen gladly to the badder end.
_Canterbury Tales. The Squieres Tale. Line 10538._
    Therefore behoveth him a ful long spone,
    That shall eat with a fend.
_Canterbury Tales. The Squieres Tale. Line 10916._
                        Fie on possession,
    But if a man be vertuous withal.
_Canterbury Tales. The Frankeleines Prologue. Line 10998._
    Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.
_Canterbury Tales. The Frankeleines Tale. Line 11789._
    Full wise is he that can himselven knowe.
_Canterbury Tales. The Monkes Tale. Line 1449._
    Mordre wol out, that see we day by day.
_Canterbury Tales. The Nonnes Preestes Tale. Line 15058._
    But all thing which that shineth as the gold
    Ne is no gold, as I have herd it told.
_Canterbury Tales. The Chanones Yemannes Tale. Line 16430._
    The firste vertue, sone, if thou wilt lere,
    Is to restreine and kepen wel thy tonge.
_Canterbury Tales. The Manciples Tale. Line 17281._
    The proverbe saith that many a smale maketh a grate.
_Canterbury Tales. Persones Tale._
    Of harmes two the lesse is for to cheese.
_Troilus and Creseide. Book ii. Line 470._
    Right as an aspen lefe she gan to quake.
_Troilus and Creseide. Book ii. Line 1201._
    For of fortunes sharpe adversite,
    The worst kind of infortune is this,
    A man that hath been in prosperite,
    And it remember whan it passed is.
_Troilus and Creseide. Book iii. Line 1625._
    He helde about him alway, out of drede,
    A world of folke.
_Troilus and Creseide. Book iii. Line 1721._
    One eare it heard, at the other out it went.
_Troilus and Creseide. Book iv. Line 435._
    Eke wonder last but nine deies never in toun.
_Troilus and Creseide. Book iv. Line 525._
    I am right sorry for your heavinesse.
_Troilus and Creseide. Book v. Line 146._
    Go, little booke! go, my little tragedie!
_Troilus and Creseide. Book v. Line 1798._
    Your duty is, as ferre as I can gesse.
_The Court of Love. Line 178._
    The lyfe so short, the craft so long to lerne,
    Th' assay so hard, so sharpe the conquering.
_The Assembly of Fowles. Line 1._
    For out of the old fieldes, as men saithe,
    Cometh al this new corne fro yere to yere;
    And out of old bookes, in good faithe,
    Cometh al this new science that men lere.
_The Assembly of Fowles. Line 22._
    Nature, the vicar of the Almightie Lord.
_The Assembly of Fowles. Line 379._
    O little booke, thou art so unconning,
    How darst thou put thy-self in prees for drede?
_The Flower and the Leaf. Line 59._
                 Of all the floures in the mede,
    Than love I most these floures white and rede,
    Soch that men callen daisies in our toun.
_Prologue of the Legend of Good Women. Line 41._
    That well by reason men it call may
    The daisie, or els the eye of the day,
    The emprise, and floure of floures all.
_Prologue of the Legend of Good Women. Line 183._
    For iii may keep a counsel if twain be away.
_The Ten Commandments of Love._
THOMAS À KEMPIS. 1380-1471.
     Man proposes, but God disposes.
_Imitation of Christ. Book i. Chap. 19._
     And when he is out of sight, quickly also is he out of mind.
_Imitation of Christ. Book i. Chap. 23._
     Of two evils, the less is always to be chosen.
_Imitation of Christ. Book iii. Chap. 12._
JOHN FORTESCUE. _Circa_ 1395-1485.
     Moche Crye and no Wull.
_De Laudibus Leg. Angliæ. Chap. x._
     Comparisons are odious.
_De Laudibus Leg. Angliæ. Chap. xix._
JOHN SKELTON. _Circa_ 1460-1529.
    There is nothynge that more dyspleaseth God,
    Than from theyr children to spare the rod.
_Magnyfycence. Line 1954._
    He ruleth all the roste.
_Why Come ye not to Courte. Line 198._
    In the spight of his teeth.
_Colyn Cloute. Line 939._
    He knew what is what.
_Colyn Cloute. Line 1106._
    By hoke ne by croke.
_Colyn Cloute. Line 1240._
    The wolfe from the dore.
_Colyn Cloute. Line 1531._
          Old proverbe says,
    That byrd ys not honest
    That fyleth hys owne nest.
_Poems against Garnesche._
JOHN HEYWOOD.[8-7] _Circa_ 1565.
    The loss of wealth is loss of dirt,
    As sages in all times assert;
    The happy man 's without a shirt.
_Be Merry Friends._
    Let the world slide,[9-1] let the world go;
    A fig for care, and a fig for woe!
    If I can't pay, why I can owe,
    And death makes equal the high and low.
_Be Merry Friends._
    All a green willow, willow,
    All a green willow is my garland.
_The Green Willow._
    Haste maketh waste.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. ii._
    Beware of, Had I wist.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. ii._
    Good to be merie and wise.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. ii._
    Beaten with his owne rod.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. ii._
    Look ere ye leape.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. ii._
    He that will not when he may,
    When he would he shall have nay.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iii._
    The fat is in the fire.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iii._
    When the sunne shineth, make hay.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iii._
    When the iron is hot, strike.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iii._
    The tide tarrieth no man.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iii._
    Than catch and hold while I may, fast binde, fast finde.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iii._
    And while I at length debate and beate the bush,
    There shall steppe in other men and catch the burdes.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iii._
    While betweene two stooles my taile goe to the ground.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iii._
    So many heads so many wits.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iii._
          Wedding is destiny,
    And hanging likewise.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iii._
     Happy man, happy dole.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iii._
     God never sends th' mouth but he sendeth meat.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iv._
     Like will to like.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iv._
     A hard beginning maketh a good ending.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iv._
     When the skie falth we shall have Larkes.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iv._
     More frayd then hurt.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iv._
     Feare may force a man to cast beyond the moone.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iv._
     Nothing is impossible to a willing hart.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. iv._
     The wise man sayth, store is no sore.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. v._
     Let the world wagge,[11-4] and take mine ease in myne Inne.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. v._
     Rule the rost.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. v._
     Hold their noses to grinstone.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. v._
     Better to give then to take.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. v._
     When all candles bee out, all cats be gray.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. v._
     No man ought to looke a given horse in the mouth.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. v._
    I perfectly feele even at my fingers end.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. vi._
    A sleveless errand.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. vii._
    We both be at our wittes end.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. viii._
    Reckeners without their host must recken twice.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. viii._
    A day after the faire.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. viii._
    Cut my cote after my cloth.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. viii._
    The neer to the church, the further from God.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. ix._
    Now for good lucke, cast an old shooe after me.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. ix._
    Better is to bow then breake.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. ix._
    It hurteth not the toung to give faire words.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. ix._
    Two heads are better then one.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. ix._
    A short horse is soone currid.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
    To tell tales out of schoole.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
    To hold with the hare and run with the hound.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
    She is nether fish nor flesh, nor good red herring.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
    All is well that endes well.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
    Of a good beginning cometh a good end.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
    Shee had seene far in a milstone.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
    Better late than never.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
    When the steede is stolne, shut the stable durre.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
                           Pryde will have a fall;
    For pryde goeth before and shame commeth after.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
    She looketh as butter would not melt in her mouth.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
    The still sowe eats up all the draffe.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
    Ill weede growth fast.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
                  It is a deere collop
    That is cut out of th' owne flesh.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
    Beggars should be no choosers.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x._
    Every cocke is proud on his owne dunghill.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    The rolling stone never gathereth mosse.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    To robbe Peter and pay Poule.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    A man may well bring a horse to the water,
    But he cannot make him drinke without he will.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    Men say, kinde will creepe where it may not goe.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    The cat would eate fish, and would not wet her feete.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    While the grasse groweth the horse starveth.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    Better one byrde in hand than ten in the wood.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    Rome was not built in one day.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    Yee have many strings to your bowe.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    Many small make a great.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    Children learne to creepe ere they can learne to goe.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    Better is halfe a lofe than no bread.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    Nought venter nought have.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    Children and fooles cannot lye.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    Set all at sixe and seven.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    All is fish that comth to net.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    Who is worse shod than the shoemaker's wife?
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    One good turne asketh another.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    By hooke or crooke.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    She frieth in her owne grease.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    Who waite for dead men shall goe long barefoote.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    I pray thee let me and my fellow have
    A haire of the dog that bit us last night.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
                                    But in deede,
    A friend is never knowne till a man have neede.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. xi._
    This wonder (as wonders last) lasted nine daies.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. i._
    New brome swepth cleene.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. i._
    All thing is the woorse for the wearing.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. i._
    Burnt child fire dredth.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. ii._
    All is not Gospell that thou doest speake.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. ii._
    Love me litle, love me long.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. ii._
    A fooles bolt is soone shot.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. iii._
    A woman hath nine lives like a cat.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. iv._
    A peny for your thought.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. iv._
    You stand in your owne light.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. iv._
    Though chaunge be no robbry.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. iv._
    Might have gone further and have fared worse.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. iv._
    The grey mare is the better horse.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. iv._
    Three may keepe counsayle, if two be away.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    Small pitchers have wyde eares.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    Many hands make light warke.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    The greatest Clerkes be not the wisest men.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    Out of Gods blessing into the warme Sunne.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    There is no fire without some smoke.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    One swallow maketh not summer.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    Fieldes have eies and woods have eares.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    A cat may looke on a King.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    It is a foule byrd that fyleth his owne nest.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    Have yee him on the hip.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    Hee must have a long spoone, shall eat with the devill.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
                              It had need to bee
    A wylie mouse that should breed in the cats eare.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    Leape out of the frying pan into the fyre.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    Time trieth troth in every doubt.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    Mad as a march hare.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
        Much water goeth by the mill
    That the miller knoweth not of.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. v._
    He must needes goe whom the devill doth drive.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. vii._
    Set the cart before the horse.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. vii._
    The moe the merrier.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. vii._
    To th' end of a shot and beginning of a fray.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. vii._
                            It is better to be
    An old man's derling than a yong man's werling.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. vii._
                      Be the day never so long,
    Evermore at last they ring to evensong.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. vii._
    The moone is made of a greene cheese.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. vii._
    I know on which side my bread is buttred.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. vii._
    It will not out of the flesh that is bred in the bone.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. viii._
    Who is so deafe or so blinde as is hee
    That wilfully will neither heare nor see?
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. ix._
    The wrong sow by th' eare.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. ix._
    Went in at the tone eare and out at the tother.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. ix._
    Love me, love my dog.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. ix._
    An ill winde that bloweth no man to good.
_Proverbes. Part i. Chap. ix._
    For when I gave you an inch, you tooke an ell.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. ix._
    Would yee both eat your cake and have your cake?
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. ix._
    Every man for himselfe and God for us all.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. ix._
    Though he love not to buy the pig in the poke.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. ix._
    This hitteth the naile on the hed.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. xi._
    Enough is as good as a feast.
_Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. xi._
THOMAS TUSSER. _Circa_ 1515-1580.
    God sendeth and giveth both mouth and the meat.
_Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry._
    Except wind stands as never it stood,
    It is an ill wind turns none to good.
_Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry. A Description of the Properties
of Wind._
    At Christmas play and make good cheer,
    For Christmas comes but once a year.
_Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry. The Farmer's Daily Diet._
    Such, mistress, such Nan,
    Such master, such man.
_Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry. April's Abstract._
    Who goeth a borrowing
    Goeth a sorrowing.
_Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry. June's Abstract._
    'T is merry in hall
    Where beards wag all.
_Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry. August's Abstract._
    Naught venture naught have.
_Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry. October's Abstract._
    Dry sun, dry wind;
    Safe bind, safe find.
_Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry. Washing._
RICHARD EDWARDS. _Circa_ 1523-1566.
    The fallyng out of faithfull frends is the renuyng of loue.
_The Paradise of Dainty Devices._
EDWARD DYER. _Circa_ 1540-1607.
        My mind to me a kingdom is;
          Such present joys therein I find,
        That it excels all other bliss
          That earth affords or grows by kind:
    Though much I want which most would have,
    Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
_MS. Rawl. 85, p. 17._
    Some have too much, yet still do crave;
      I little have, and seek no more:
    They are but poor, though much they have,
      And I am rich with little store:
    They poor, I rich; they beg, I give;
    They lack, I have; they pine, I live.
_MS. Rawl. 85, p. 17._
BISHOP STILL (JOHN). 1543-1607.
    I cannot eat but little meat,
      My stomach is not good;
    But sure I think that I can drink
      With him that wears a hood.
_Gammer Gurton's Needle._[22-2] _Act ii._
    Back and side go bare, go bare,
      Both foot and hand go cold;
    But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
      Whether it be new or old.
_Gammer Gurton's Needle. Act ii._
THOMAS STERNHOLD. _Circa_ 1549.
    The Lord descended from above
      And bow'd the heavens high;
    And underneath his feet he cast
      The darkness of the sky.
    On cherubs and on cherubims
      Full royally he rode;
    And on the wings of all the winds
      Came flying all abroad.
_A Metrical Version of Psalm civ._
MATHEW ROYDON. _Circa_ 1586.
    A sweet attractive kinde of grace,
    A full assurance given by lookes,
    Continuall comfort in a face
    The lineaments of Gospell bookes.
_An Elegie; or Friend's Passion for his Astrophill._
    Was never eie did see that face,
      Was never eare did heare that tong,
    Was never minde did minde his grace,
      That ever thought the travell long;
        But eies and eares and ev'ry thought
        Were with his sweete perfections caught.
_An Elegie; or Friend's Passion for his Astrophill._
SIR EDWARD COKE. 1549-1634.
    The gladsome light of jurisprudence.
_First Institute._
     Reason is the life of the law; nay, the common law itself is
     nothing else but reason. . . . The law, which is perfection of
     reason.
_First Institute._
     For a man's house is his castle, _et domus sua cuique tutissimum
     refugium_.
_Third Institute. Page 162._
     The house of every one is to him as his castle and fortress, as
     well for his defence against injury and violence as for his
     repose.
_Semayne's Case, 5 Rep. 91._
     They (corporations) cannot commit treason, nor be outlawed nor
     excommunicate, for they have no souls.
_Case of Sutton's Hospital, 10 Rep. 32._
     Magna Charta is such a fellow that he will have no sovereign.
_Debate in the Commons, May 17, 1628._
    Six hours in sleep, in law's grave study six,
    Four spend in prayer, the rest on Nature fix.
Translation of lines quoted by Coke.
GEORGE PEELE. 1552-1598.
    His golden locks time hath to silver turned;
      O time too swift! Oh swiftness never ceasing!
    His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurned,
      But spurned in vain; youth waneth by encreasing.
_Sonnet. Polyhymnia._
    His helmet now shall make a hive for bees,
      And lovers' songs be turned to holy psalms;
    A man-at-arms must now serve on his knees,
      And feed on prayers, which are old age's alms.
_Sonnet. Polyhymnia._
    My merry, merry, merry roundelay
      Concludes with Cupid's curse:
    They that do change old love for new,
      Pray gods, they change for worse!
_Cupid's Curse._
SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 1552-1618.
    If all the world and love were young,
    And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
    These pretty pleasures might me move
    To live with thee, and be thy love.
_The Nymph's Reply to the Passionate Shepherd._
    Fain would I, but I dare not; I dare, and yet I may not;
    I may, although I care not, for pleasure when I play not.
_Fain Would I._
    Passions are likened best to floods and streams:
    The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb.
_The Silent Lover._
    Silence in love bewrays more woe
      Than words, though ne'er so witty:
    A beggar that is dumb, you know,
      May challenge double pity.
_The Silent Lover._
    Go, Soul, the body's guest,
      Upon a thankless arrant:
    Fear not to touch the best,
      The truth shall be thy warrant:
        Go, since I needs must die,
        And give the world the lie.
_The Lie._
    Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay.
_Verses to Edmund Spenser._
    Cowards [may] fear to die; but courage stout,
    Rather than live in snuff, will be put out.
_On the snuff of a candle the night before he died._--Raleigh's _Remains,
p. 258, ed. 1661._
    Even such is time, that takes in trust
    Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
    And pays us but with age and dust;
    Who in the dark and silent grave,
    When we have wandered all our ways,
    Shuts up the story of our days.
    But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
    My God shall raise me up, I trust!
_Written the night before his death.--Found in his Bible in the
Gate-house at Westminster._
    Shall I, like an hermit, dwell
    On a rock or in a cell?
_Poem._
    If she undervalue me,
    What care I how fair she be?
_Poem._
    If she seem not chaste to me,
    What care I how chaste she be?
_Poem._
    Fain would I climb, yet fear I to fall.
     [History] hath triumphed over time, which besides it nothing but
     eternity hath triumphed over.
_Historie of the World. Preface._
     O eloquent, just, and mightie Death! whom none could advise, thou
     hast perswaded; what none hath dared, thou hast done; and whom
     all the world hath flattered, thou only hast cast out of the
     world and despised. Thou hast drawne together all the farre
     stretchèd greatnesse, all the pride, crueltie, and ambition of
     man, and covered it all over with these two narrow words, _Hic
     jacet!_
_Historie of the World. Book v. Part 1._
EDMUND SPENSER. 1553-1599.
    Fierce warres and faithful loves shall moralize my song.
_Faerie Queene. Introduction. St. 1._
    A gentle knight was pricking on the plaine.
_Faerie Queene. Book i. Canto i. St. 1._
                    O happy earth,
    Whereon thy innocent feet doe ever tread!
_Faerie Queene. Book i. Canto i. St. 9._
    The noblest mind the best contentment has.
_Faerie Queene. Book i. Canto i. St. 35._
    A bold bad man.
_Faerie Queene. Book i. Canto i. St. 37._
                              Her angels face,
    As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright,
    And made a sunshine in the shady place.
_Faerie Queene. Book i. Canto iii. St. 4._
    Ay me, how many perils doe enfold
    The righteous man, to make him daily fall!
_Faerie Queene. Book i. Canto viii. St. 1._
                  As when in Cymbrian plaine
    An heard of bulles, whom kindly rage doth sting,
    Doe for the milky mothers want complaine,
    And fill the fieldes with troublous bellowing.
_Faerie Queene. Book i. Canto viii. St. 11._
    Entire affection hateth nicer hands.
_Faerie Queene. Book i. Canto viii. St. 40._
    That darksome cave they enter, where they find
    That cursed man, low sitting on the ground,
    Musing full sadly in his sullein mind.
_Faerie Queene. Book i. Canto ix. St. 35._
    No daintie flowre or herbe that growes on grownd,
    No arborett with painted blossoms drest
    And smelling sweete, but there it might be fownd
    To bud out faire, and throwe her sweete smels al arownd.
_Faerie Queene. Book ii. Canto vi. St. 12._
    And is there care in Heaven? And is there love
    In heavenly spirits to these Creatures bace?
_Faerie Queene. Book ii. Canto viii. St. 1._
    How oft do they their silver bowers leave
    To come to succour us that succour want!
_Faerie Queene. Book ii. Canto viii. St. 2._
    Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound.
_Faerie Queene. Book ii. Canto xii. St. 70._
    Through thick and thin, both over bank and bush,
    In hope her to attain by hook or crook.
_Faerie Queene. Book iii. Canto i. St. 17._
    Her berth was of the wombe of morning dew,
    And her conception of the joyous Prime.
_Faerie Queene. Book iii. Canto vi. St. 3._
                            Roses red and violets blew,
    And all the sweetest flowres that in the forrest grew.
_Faerie Queene. Book iii. Canto vi. St. 6._
    Be bolde, Be bolde, and everywhere, Be bold.
_Faerie Queene. Book iii. Canto xi. St. 54._
    Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled,
    On Fame's eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.
_Faerie Queene. Book iv. Canto ii. St. 32._
    For all that Nature by her mother-wit
    Could frame in earth.
_Faerie Queene. Book iv. Canto x. St. 21._
    Ill can he rule the great that cannot reach the small.
_Faerie Queene. Book v. Canto ii. St. 43._
    Who will not mercie unto others show,
    How can he mercy ever hope to have?
_Faerie Queene. Book v. Canto ii. St. 42._
    The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne;
    For a man by nothing is so well bewrayed
    As by his manners.
_Faerie Queene. Book vi. Canto iii. St. 1._
    For we by conquest, of our soveraine might,
    And by eternall doome of Fate's decree,
    Have wonne the Empire of the Heavens bright.
_Faerie Queene. Book vii. Canto xi. St. 33._
    For of the soule the bodie forme doth take;
    For soule is forme, and doth the bodie make.
_An Hymne in Honour of Beautie. Line 132._
    For all that faire is, is by nature good;
    That is a signe to know the gentle blood.
_An Hymne in Honour of Beautie. Line 139._
    To kerke the narre from God more farre,
      Has bene an old-sayd sawe;
    And he that strives to touche a starre
      Oft stombles at a strawe.
_The Shepheardes Calender. July. Line 97._
    Full little knowest thou that hast not tride,
    What hell it is in suing long to bide:
    To loose good dayes, that might be better spent;
    To wast long nights in pensive discontent;
    To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow;
    To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow.
        .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .
    To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares;
    To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires;
    To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne,
    To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne.
    Unhappie wight, borne to desastrous end,
    That doth his life in so long tendance spend!
_Mother Hubberds Tale. Line 895._
    What more felicitie can fall to creature
    Than to enjoy delight with libertie,
    And to be lord of all the workes of Nature,
    To raine in th' aire from earth to highest skie,
    To feed on flowres and weeds of glorious feature.
_Muiopotmos: or, The Fate of the Butterflie. Line 209._
    I hate the day, because it lendeth light
    To see all things, but not my love to see.
_Daphnaida, v. 407._
    Tell her the joyous Time will not be staid,
    Unlesse she doe him by the forelock take.
_Amoretti, lxx._
    I was promised on a time
    To have reason for my rhyme;
    From that time unto this season,
    I received nor rhyme nor reason.
_Lines on his Promised Pension._
    Behold, whiles she before the altar stands,
    Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes,
    And blesseth her with his two happy hands.
_Epithalamion. Line 223._
RICHARD HOOKER. 1553-1600.
     Of Law there can be no less acknowledged than that her seat is
     the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world. All things
     in heaven and earth do her homage,--the very least as feeling her
     care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power.
_Ecclesiastical Polity. Book i._
     That to live by one man's will became the cause of all men's
     misery.
_Ecclesiastical Polity. Book i._
JOHN LYLY. _Circa_ 1553-1601.
    Cupid and my Campaspe play'd
    At cards for kisses: Cupid paid.
    He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
    His mother's doves, and team of sparrows:
    Loses them too. Then down he throws
    The coral of his lip, the rose
    Growing on 's cheek (but none knows how);
    With these, the crystal of his brow,
    And then the dimple on his chin:
    All these did my Campaspe win.
    At last he set her both his eyes:
    She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
      O Love! has she done this to thee?
      What shall, alas! become of me?
_Cupid and Campaspe. Act iii. Sc. 5._
    How at heaven's gates she claps her wings,
    The morne not waking til she sings.
_Cupid and Campaspe. Act v. Sc. 1._
     Be valyaunt, but not too venturous. Let thy attyre bee comely,
     but not costly.
_Euphues, 1579_ (Arber's reprint), _page 39._
     Though the Camomill, the more it is trodden and pressed downe the
     more it spreadeth.
_Euphues, 1579_ (Arber's reprint), _page 46._
     The finest edge is made with the blunt whetstone.
_Euphues, 1579_ (Arber's reprint), _page 47._
     I cast before the Moone.
_Euphues, 1579_ (Arber's reprint), _page 78._
     It seems to me (said she) that you are in some brown study.
_Euphues, 1579_ (Arber's reprint), _page 80._
     The soft droppes of rain perce the hard marble;[32-6] many
     strokes overthrow the tallest oaks.
_Euphues, 1579_ (Arber's reprint), _page 81._
     He reckoneth without his Hostesse.[32-8] Love knoweth no lawes.
_Euphues, 1579_ (Arber's reprint), _page 84._
     Did not Jupiter transforme himselfe into the shape of Amphitrio
     to embrace Alcmæna; into the form of a swan to enjoy Leda; into a
     Bull to beguile Io; into a showre of gold to win Danae?
_Euphues, 1579_ (Arber's reprint), _page 93._
     Lette me stande to the maine chance.
_Euphues, 1579_ (Arber's reprint), _page 104._
     I mean not to run with the Hare and holde with the Hounde.
_Euphues, 1579_ (Arber's reprint), _page 107._
     It is a world to see.
_Euphues, 1579_ (Arber's reprint), _page 116._
     There can no great smoke arise, but there must be some
     fire.
_Euphues and his Euphoebus, page 153._
     A clere conscience is a sure carde.
_Euphues, page 207._
     As lyke as one pease is to another.
_Euphues, page 215._
     Goe to bed with the Lambe, and rise with the Larke.
_Euphues and his England, page 229._
     A comely olde man as busie as a bee.
_Euphues and his England, page 252._
     Maydens, be they never so foolyshe, yet beeing fayre they are
     commonly fortunate.
_Euphues and his England, page 279._
     Where the streame runneth smoothest, the water is deepest.
_Euphues and his England, page 287._
     Your eyes are so sharpe that you cannot onely looke through a
     Milstone, but cleane through the minde.
_Euphues and his England, page 289._
     I am glad that my Adonis hath a sweete tooth in his head.
_Euphues and his England, page 308._
     A Rose is sweeter in the budde than full blowne.
_Euphues and his England, page 314._
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 1554-1586.
     Sweet food of sweetly uttered knowledge.
_Defence of Poesy._
     He cometh unto you with a tale which holdeth children from play,
     and old men from the chimney-corner.
_Defence of Poesy._
     I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not
     my heart moved more than with a trumpet.
_Defence of Poesy._
     High-erected thoughts seated in the heart of courtesy.
_Arcadia. Book i._
     They are never alone that are accompanied with noble
     thoughts.
_Arcadia. Book i._
     Many-headed multitude.
_Arcadia. Book ii._
     My dear, my better half.
_Arcadia. Book iii._
     Fool! said my muse to me, look in thy heart, and write.
_Astrophel and Stella, i._
     Have I caught my heav'nly jewel.
_Astrophel and Stella, i. Second Song._
CYRIL TOURNEUR. _Circa_ 1600.
    A drunkard clasp his teeth and not undo 'em,
    To suffer wet damnation to run through 'em.
_The Revenger's Tragedy. Act iii. Sc. 1._
LORD BROOKE. 1554-1628.
    O wearisome condition of humanity!
_Mustapha. Act v. Sc. 4._
    And out of mind as soon as out of sight.
_Sonnet lvi._
GEORGE CHAPMAN. 1557-1634.
    None ever loved but at first sight they loved.
_The Blind Beggar of Alexandria._
    An ill weed grows apace.
_An Humorous Day's Mirth._
    Black is a pearl in a woman's eye.
_An Humorous Day's Mirth._
    Exceeding fair she was not; and yet fair
    In that she never studied to be fairer
    Than Nature made her; beauty cost her nothing,
    Her virtues were so rare.
_All Fools. Act i. Sc. 1._
    I tell thee Love is Nature's second sun,
    Causing a spring of virtues where he shines.
_All Fools. Act i. Sc. 1._
    _Cornelia._ What flowers are these?
    _Gazetta._ The pansy this.
    _Cor._ Oh, that 's for lovers' thoughts.
_All Fools. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Fortune, the great commandress of the world,
    Hath divers ways to advance her followers:
    To some she gives honour without deserving,
    To other some, deserving without honour.
_All Fools. Act v. Sc. 1._
     Young men think old men are fools; but old men know young men are
     fools.
_All Fools. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Virtue is not malicious; wrong done her
    Is righted even when men grant they err.
_Monsieur D'Olive. Act i. Sc. 1._
    For one heat, all know, doth drive out another,
    One passion doth expel another still.
_Monsieur D'Olive. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Let no man value at a little price
    A virtuous woman's counsel; her wing'd spirit
    Is feather'd oftentimes with heavenly words.
_The Gentleman Usher. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    To put a girdle round about the world.
_Bussy D'Ambois. Act i. Sc. 1._
    His deeds inimitable, like the sea
    That shuts still as it opes, and leaves no tracts
    Nor prints of precedent for poor men's facts.
_Bussy D'Ambois. Act i. Sc. 1._
                                  So our lives
    In acts exemplary, not only win
    Ourselves good names, but doth to others give
    Matter for virtuous deeds, by which we live.
_Bussy D'Ambois. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Who to himself is law no law doth need,
    Offends no law, and is a king indeed.
_Bussy D'Ambois. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Each natural agent works but to this end,
    To render that it works on like itself.
_Bussy D'Ambois. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    'T is immortality to die aspiring,
    As if a man were taken quick to heaven.
_Conspiracy of Charles, Duke of Byron. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Give me a spirit that on this life's rough sea
    Loves t' have his sails fill'd with a lusty wind,
    Even till his sail-yards tremble, his masts crack,
    And his rapt ship run on her side so low
    That she drinks water, and her keel plows air.
_Tragedy of Charles, Duke of Byron. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    He is at no end of his actions blest
    Whose ends will make him greatest, and not best.
_Tragedy of Charles, Duke of Byron. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Words writ in waters.
_Revenge for Honour. Act v. Sc. 2._
    They 're only truly great who are truly good.
_Revenge for Honour. Act v. Sc. 2._
     Keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee.[37-3] Light gains
     make heavy purses. 'T is good to be merry and wise.
_Eastward Ho._[37-5] _Act i. Sc. 1._
     Make ducks and drakes with shillings.
_Eastward Ho._[37-5] _Act i. Sc. 1._
     Only a few industrious Scots perhaps, who indeed are dispersed
     over the face of the whole earth. But as for them, there are no
     greater friends to Englishmen and England, when they are out on
     't, in the world, than they are. And for my own part, I would a
     hundred thousand of them were there [Virginia]; for we are all
     one countrymen now, ye know, and we should find ten times more
     comfort of them there than we do here.
_Eastward Ho. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     Enough 's as good as a feast.
_Eastward Ho. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     Fair words never hurt the tongue.
_Eastward Ho. Act iv. Sc. 1._
     Let pride go afore, shame will follow after.
_Eastward Ho. Act iv. Sc. 1._
     I will neither yield to the song of the siren nor the voice of
     the hyena, the tears of the crocodile nor the howling of the
     wolf.
_Eastward Ho. Act v. Sc. 1._
    As night the life-inclining stars best shows,
    So lives obscure the starriest souls disclose.
_Epilogue to Translations._
     Promise is most given when the least is said.
_Musæus of Hero and Leander._
WILLIAM WARNER. 1558-1609.
    With that she dasht her on the lippes,
    So dyed double red:
    Hard was the heart that gave the blow,
    Soft were those lips that bled.
_Albion's England. Book viii. chap. xli. stanza 53._
    We thinke no greater blisse then such
      To be as be we would,
    When blessed none but such as be
      The same as be they should.
_Albion's England. Book x. chap. lix. stanza 68._
SIR RICHARD HOLLAND.
    O Douglas, O Douglas!
    Tendir and trewe.
_The Buke of the Howlat._[38-4] _Stanza xxxi._
SIR JOHN HARRINGTON. 1561-1612.
    Treason doth never prosper: what 's the reason?
    Why, if it prosper, none dare call it treason.
_Epigrams. Book iv. Ep. 5._
SAMUEL DANIEL. 1562-1619.
    As that the walls worn thin, permit the mind
    To look out thorough, and his frailty find.
_History of the Civil War. Book iv. Stanza 84._
    Sacred religion! mother of form and fear.
_Musophilus. Stanza 57._
    And for the few that only lend their ear,
    That few is all the world.
_Musophilus. Stanza 97._
    This is the thing that I was born to do.
_Musophilus. Stanza 100._
    And who (in time) knows whither we may vent
      The treasure of our tongue? To what strange shores
    This gain of our best glory shall be sent
      T' enrich unknowing nations with our stores?
    What worlds in the yet unformed Occident
      May come refin'd with th' accents that are ours?
_Musophilus. Stanza 163._
          Unless above himself he can
    Erect himself, how poor a thing is man!
_To the Countess of Cumberland. Stanza 12._
    Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night,
    Brother to Death, in silent darkness born.
_To Delia. Sonnet 51._
MICHAEL DRAYTON. 1563-1631.
    Had in him those brave translunary things
    That the first poets had.
(Said of Marlowe.) _To Henry Reynolds, of Poets and Poesy._
    For that fine madness still he did retain
    Which rightly should possess a poet's brain.
(Said of Marlowe.) _To Henry Reynolds, of Poets and Poesy._
    The coast was clear.
_Nymphidia._
    When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
    And innocence is closing up his eyes,
    Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
    From death to life thou might'st him yet recover.
_Ideas. An Allusion to the Eaglets. lxi._
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. 1565-1593.
    Comparisons are odious.
_Lust's Dominion. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    I 'm armed with more than complete steel,
    The justice of my quarrel.
_Lust's Dominion. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?
_Hero and Leander._
    Come live with me, and be my love;
    And we will all the pleasures prove
    That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
    Woods or steepy mountain yields.
_The Passionate Shepherd to his Love._
    By shallow rivers, to whose falls
    Melodious birds sing madrigals.
_The Passionate Shepherd to his Love._
    And I will make thee beds of roses
    And a thousand fragrant posies.
_The Passionate Shepherd to his Love._
    Infinite riches in a little room.
_The Jew of Malta. Act i._
    Excess of wealth is cause of covetousness.
_The Jew of Malta. Act i._
     Now will I show myself to have more of the serpent than the
     dove;[41-2] that is, more knave than fool.
_The Jew of Malta. Act ii._
    Love me little, love me long.
_The Jew of Malta. Act iv._
                     When all the world dissolves,
    And every creature shall be purified,
    All places shall be hell that are not heaven.
_Faustus._
    Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships,
    And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
    Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss!
    Her lips suck forth my soul:[41-4] see, where it flies!
_Faustus._
    O, thou art fairer than the evening air
    Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
_Faustus._
    Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight,
    And burnèd is Apollo's laurel bough,
    That sometime grew within this learnèd man.
_Faustus._
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1564-1616.
(_From the text of Clark and Wright._)
    I would fain die a dry death.
_The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 1._
     Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren
     ground.
_The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 1._
                         What seest thou else
    In the dark backward and abysm of time?
_The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2._
    I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
    To closeness and the bettering of my mind.
_The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2._
                                    Like one
    Who having into truth, by telling of it,
    Made such a sinner of his memory,
    To credit his own lie.
_The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2._
                              My library
    Was dukedom large enough.
_The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me
    From mine own library with volumes that
    I prize above my dukedom.
_The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2._
    From the still-vexed Bermoothes.
_The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2._
    I will be correspondent to command,
    And do my spiriting gently.
_The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Fill all thy bones with aches.
_The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Come unto these yellow sands,
      And then take hands:
    Courtsied when you have, and kiss'd
      The wild waves whist.
_The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Full fathom five thy father lies;
      Of his bones are coral made;
    Those are pearls that were his eyes:
      Nothing of him that doth fade
    But doth suffer a sea-change
    Into something rich and strange.
_The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2._
    The fringed curtains of thine eye advance.
_The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2._
    There 's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:
    If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
    Good things will strive to dwell with 't.
_The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2._
    _Gon._ Here is everything advantageous to life.
    _Ant._ True; save means to live.
_The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    A very ancient and fish-like smell.
_The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.
_The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    _Fer._ Here 's my hand.
    _Mir._ And mine, with my heart in 't.
_The Tempest. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    He that dies pays all debts.
_The Tempest. Act iii. Sc. 2._
                            A kind
    Of excellent dumb discourse.
_The Tempest. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Deeper than e'er plummet sounded.
_The Tempest. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
    As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
    Are melted into air, into thin air:
    And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
    The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
    The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
    Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
    And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
    Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
    As dreams are made on; and our little life
    Is rounded with a sleep.
_The Tempest. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    With foreheads villanous low.
_The Tempest. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Deeper than did ever plummet sound
    I 'll drown my book.
_The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Where the bee sucks, there suck I;
    In a cowslip's bell I lie.
_The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Merrily, merrily shall I live now,
    Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
_The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act i. Sc. 1._
    I have no other but a woman's reason:
    I think him so, because I think him so.
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act i. Sc. 2._
    O, how this spring of love resembleth
    The uncertain glory of an April day!
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act i. Sc. 3._
    And if it please you, so; if not, why, so.
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible,
    As a nose on a man's face,[44-1] or a weathercock on a steeple.
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act ii. Sc. 1._
                          She is mine own,
    And I as rich in having such a jewel
    As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,
    The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    He makes sweet music with th' enamell'd stones,
    Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
    He overtaketh in his pilgrimage.
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
    If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Except I be by Sylvia in the night,
    There is no music in the nightingale.
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    A man I am, cross'd with adversity.
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Is she not passing fair?
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    How use doth breed a habit in a man!
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act v. Sc. 4._
                      O heaven! were man
    But constant, he were perfect.
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act v. Sc. 4._
    Come not within the measure of my wrath.
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act v. Sc. 4._
    I will make a Star-chamber matter of it.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1._
     All his successors gone before him have done 't; and all his
     ancestors that come after him may.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1._
    It is a familiar beast to man, and signifies love.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Seven hundred pounds and possibilities is good gifts.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Mine host of the Garter.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1._
     I had rather than forty shillings I had my Book of Songs and
     Sonnets here.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1._
     If there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may
     decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and
     have more occasion to know one another: I hope, upon familiarity
     will grow more contempt.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1._
    O base Hungarian wight! wilt thou the spigot wield?
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3._
     "Convey," the wise it call. "Steal!" foh! a fico for the phrase!
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Tester I 'll have in pouch, when thou shalt lack,
    Base Phrygian Turk!
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Thou art the Mars of malcontents.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3._
     Here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's
     English.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 4._
    We burn daylight.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    There 's the humour of it.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Why, then the world 's mine oyster,
    Which I with sword will open.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    This is the short and the long of it.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Unless experience be a jewel.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Like a fair house, built on another man's ground.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    We have some salt of our youth in us.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    I cannot tell what the dickens his name is.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     What a taking was he in when your husband asked who was in the
     basket!
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults
    Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Happy man be his dole!
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    I have a kind of alacrity in sinking.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 5._
    As good luck would have it.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 5._
     The rankest compound of villanous smell that ever offended
     nostril.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 5._
    A man of my kidney.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 5._
    Think of that, Master Brook.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 5._
    Your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    In his old lunes again.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    So curses all Eve's daughters, of what complexion soever.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     This is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd
     numbers. . . . There is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity,
     chance, or death.
_The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act v. Sc. 1._
                     Thyself and thy belongings
    Are not thine own so proper as to waste
    Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee.
    Heaven doth with us as we with torches do,
    Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues
    Did not go forth of us, 't were all alike
    As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd
    But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends
    The smallest scruple of her excellence
    But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines
    Herself the glory of a creditor,
    Both thanks and use.
_Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 1._
    He was ever precise in promise-keeping.
_Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home.
_Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 3._
    I hold you as a thing ensky'd and sainted.
_Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 4._
                      A man whose blood
    Is very snow-broth; one who never feels
    The wanton stings and motions of the sense.
_Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 4._
                      He arrests him on it;
    And follows close the rigour of the statute,
    To make him an example.
_Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 4._
                      Our doubts are traitors,
    And make us lose the good we oft might win
    By fearing to attempt.
_Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 4._
    The jury, passing on the prisoner's life,
    May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two
    Guiltier than him they try.
_Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.
_Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    This will last out a night in Russia,
    When nights are longest there.
_Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it?
_Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
    Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,
    The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
    Become them with one half so good a grace
    As mercy does.
_Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once;
    And He that might the vantage best have took
    Found out the remedy. How would you be,
    If He, which is the top of judgment, should
    But judge you as you are?
_Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.
_Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                      O, it is excellent
    To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous
    To use it like a giant.
_Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                        But man, proud man,
    Drest in a little brief authority,
    Most ignorant of what he 's most assured,
    His glassy essence, like an angry ape,
    Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
    As make the angels weep.
_Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    That in the captain 's but a choleric word
    Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
_Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                     Our compell'd sins
    Stand more for number than for accompt.
_Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    The miserable have no other medicine,
    But only hope.
_Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1._
                       A breath thou art,
    Servile to all the skyey influences.
_Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Palsied eld.
_Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    The sense of death is most in apprehension;
    And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
    In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
    As when a giant dies.
_Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    The cunning livery of hell.
_Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;
    To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;
    This sensible warm motion to become
    A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
    To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
    In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;
    To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
    And blown with restless violence round about
    The pendent world.
_Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    The weariest and most loathed worldly life
    That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
    Can lay on nature, is a paradise
    To what we fear of death.
_Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good.
_Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.
_Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     There, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana.
_Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    O, what may man within him hide,
    Though angel on the outward side!
_Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Take, O, take those lips away,
      That so sweetly were forsworn;
    And those eyes, the break of day,
      Lights that do mislead the morn:
    But my kisses bring again, bring again;
    Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain.
_Measure for Measure. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Every true man's apparel fits your thief.
_Measure for Measure. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    We would, and we would not.
_Measure for Measure. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time
    And razure of oblivion.
_Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1._
                      Truth is truth
    To the end of reckoning.
_Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1._
                     My business in this state
    Made me a looker on here in Vienna.
_Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1._
    They say, best men are moulded out of faults,
    And, for the most, become much more the better
    For being a little bad.
_Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1._
    What 's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.
_Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1._
    The pleasing punishment that women bear.
_The Comedy of Errors. Act i. Sc. 1._
    A wretched soul, bruised with adversity.
_The Comedy of Errors. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Every why hath a wherefore.
_The Comedy of Errors. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.
_The Comedy of Errors. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    One Pinch, a hungry lean-faced villain,
    A mere anatomy.
_The Comedy of Errors. Act v. Sc. 1._
    A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch,
    A living-dead man.
_The Comedy of Errors. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Let 's go hand in hand, not one before another.
_The Comedy of Errors. Act v. Sc. 1._
    He hath indeed better bettered expectation.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1._
    A very valiant trencher-man.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1._
    He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1._
    What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living?
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1._
    There 's a skirmish of wit between them.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1._
    The gentleman is not in your books.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again?
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Benedick the married man.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1._
    He is of a very melancholy disposition.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1._
     He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no
     beard is less than a man.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    As merry as the day is long.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 1._
     I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Speak low if you speak love.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Friendship is constant in all other things
    Save in the office and affairs of love:
    Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues;
    Let every eye negotiate for itself
    And trust no agent.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 1._
     Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy,
     if I could say how much.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 1._
     Lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He
     was wont to speak plain and to the purpose.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
      Men were deceivers ever,
    One foot in sea and one on shore,
      To one thing constant never.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Sits the wind in that corner?
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 3._
     Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain
     awe a man from the career of his humour? No, the world must be
     peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I
     should live till I were married.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     From the crown of his head to the sole of his foot,[51-1] he is
     all mirth.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Every one can master a grief but he that has it.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Are you good men and true?
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3._
     To be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write
     and read comes by nature.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    The most senseless and fit man.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    You shall comprehend all vagrom men.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3._
     _2 Watch._ How if a' will not stand?
     _Dogb._ Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go; and
     presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God you
     are rid of a knave.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3._
     Is most tolerable, and not to be endured.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3._
     If they make you not then the better answer, you may say they are
     not the men you took them for.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3._
     The most peaceable way for you if you do take a thief, is to let
     him show himself what he is and steal out of your company.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    I know that Deformed.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    The fashion wears out more apparel than the man.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3._
     I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man
     and no honester than I.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Comparisons are odorous.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 5._
     If I were as tedious as a king, I could find it in my heart to
     bestow it all of your worship.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 5._
     A good old man, sir; he will be talking: as they say, When the
     age is in the wit is out.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 5._
     O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not
     knowing what they do!
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    O, what authority and show of truth
    Can cunning sin cover itself withal!
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    I never tempted her with word too large,
    But, as a brother to his sister, show'd
    Bashful sincerity and comely love.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1._
                     I have mark'd
    A thousand blushing apparitions
    To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames
    In angel whiteness beat away those blushes.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1._
                    For it so falls out
    That what we have we prize not to the worth
    Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost,
    Why, then we rack the value; then we find
    The virtue that possession would not show us
    Whiles it was ours.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
    Into his study of imagination,
    And every lovely organ of her life,
    Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit,
    More moving-delicate and full of life
    Into the eye and prospect of his soul.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1._
     Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than
     false knaves; and it will go near to be thought so shortly.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    The eftest way.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Flat burglary as ever was committed.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Condemned into everlasting redemption.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    O, that he were here to write me down an ass!
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     A fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gowns and
     every thing handsome about him.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Patch grief with proverbs.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1._
                                       Men
    Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief
    Which they themselves not feel.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Charm ache with air, and agony with words.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1._
          'T is all men's office to speak patience
    To those that wring under the load of sorrow,
    But no man's virtue nor sufficiency
    To be so moral when he shall endure
    The like himself.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1._
    For there was never yet philosopher
    That could endure the toothache patiently.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Some of us will smart for it.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1._
    I was not born under a rhyming planet.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Done to death by slanderous tongues.
_Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 3._
    Or, having sworn too hard a keeping oath,
    Study to break it and not break my troth.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Light seeking light doth light of light beguile.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Small have continual plodders ever won
      Save base authority from others' books.
    These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights
      That give a name to every fixed star
    Have no more profit of their shining nights
      Than those that walk and wot not what they are.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1._
    At Christmas I no more desire a rose
    Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth;
    But like of each thing that in season grows.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1._
    A man in all the world's new fashion planted,
    That hath a mint of phrases in his brain.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1._
    A high hope for a low heaven.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1._
     And men sit down to that nourishment which is called supper.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1._
    That unlettered small-knowing soul.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1._
     A child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet
     understanding, a woman.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1._
     Affliction may one day smile again; and till then, sit thee down,
     sorrow!
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1._
     The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since;
     but I think now 't is not to be found.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act i. Sc. 2._
    The rational hind Costard.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act i. Sc. 2._
     Devise, wit; write, pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act i. Sc. 2._
    A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd;
    Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms:
    Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act ii. Sc. 1._
                      A merrier man,
    Within the limit of becoming mirth,
    I never spent an hour's talk withal.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Delivers in such apt and gracious words
    That aged ears play truant at his tales,
    And younger hearings are quite ravished;
    So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    By my penny of observation.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    The boy hath sold him a bargain,--a goose.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    A very beadle to a humorous sigh.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;
    Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
    The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
    Liege of all loiterers and malcontents.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    A buck of the first head.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     He hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he
     hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Many can brook the weather that love not the wind.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    You two are book-men.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Dictynna, goodman Dull.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     These are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb
     of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    For where is any author in the world
    Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?
    Learning is but an adjunct to ourself.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    It adds a precious seeing to the eye.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3._
                      As sweet and musical
    As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair;
    And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods
    Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:
    They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
    They are the books, the arts, the academes,
    That show, contain, and nourish all the world.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3._
     He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple
     of his argument.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Priscian! a little scratched, 't will serve.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1._
     They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the
     scraps.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1._
     In the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the
     afternoon.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1._
               They have measured many a mile
    To tread a measure with you on this grass.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Let me take you a button-hole lower.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2._
     I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of
     discretion.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2._
    A jest's prosperity lies in the ear
    Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
    Of him that makes it.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2._
    When daisies pied and violets blue,
      And lady-smocks all silver-white,
    And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
      Do paint the meadows with delight,
    The cuckoo then, on every tree,
    Mocks married men.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2._
     The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo.
_Love's Labour's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2._
    But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd
    Than that which withering on the virgin thorn
    Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 1._
      For aught that I could ever read,
    Could ever hear by tale or history,
    The course of true love never did run smooth.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 1._
    O, hell! to choose love by another's eyes.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;
    Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
    That in a spleen unfolds both heaven and earth,
    And ere a man hath power to say, "Behold!"
    The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
    So quick bright things come to confusion.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
    And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Masters, spread yourselves.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2._
    This is Ercles' vein.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2._
    I'll speak in a monstrous little voice.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2._
    I am slow of study.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2._
    That would hang us, every mother's son.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2._
     I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you,
     an 't were any nightingale.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2._
    A proper man, as one shall see in a summer's day.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2._
    The human mortals.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    The rude sea grew civil at her song,
    And certain stars shot madly from their spheres
    To hear the sea-maid's music.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    And the imperial votaress passed on,
    In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
    Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell:
    It fell upon a little western flower,
    Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,
    And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    I 'll put a girdle round about the earth
    In forty minutes.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act ii. Sc. 1._
                         My heart
    Is true as steel.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
    Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
    Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
    With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Lord, what fools these mortals be!
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iii. Sc. 2._
                 So we grew together,
    Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
    But yet an union in partition.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Two lovely berries moulded on one stem.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iv. Sc. 1._
     I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iv. Sc. 1._
     The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not
     seen,[58-5] man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to
     conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
    Are of imagination all compact:
    One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
    That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
    Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
    The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
    Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
    And as imagination bodies forth
    The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
    Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
    A local habitation and a name.
    Such tricks hath strong imagination,
    That if it would but apprehend some joy,
    It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
    Or in the night, imagining some fear,
    How easy is a bush supposed a bear!
_A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act v. Sc. 1._
    For never anything can be amiss,
    When simpleness and duty tender it.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act v. Sc. 1._
    The true beginning of our end.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act v. Sc. 1._
    The best in this kind are but shadows.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act v. Sc. 1._
    A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act v. Sc. 1._
     This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to
     make a man look sad.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act v. Sc. 1._
    The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.
_A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act v. Sc. 1._
    My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
    Nor to one place.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1._
                     Now, by two-headed Janus,
    Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1._
    You have too much respect upon the world:
    They lose it that do buy it with much care.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1._
    I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,
    A stage, where every man must play a part;
    And mine a sad one.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
    Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1._
    There are a sort of men whose visages
    Do cream and mantle like a standing pond.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1._
                      I am Sir Oracle,
    And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1._
                      I do know of these
    That therefore only are reputed wise
    For saying nothing.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Fish not, with this melancholy bait,
    For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1._
     Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in
     all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two
     bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them, and
     when you have them, they are not worth the search.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1._
    In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,
    I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight
    The selfsame way, with more advised watch,
    To find the other forth; and by adventuring both,
    I oft found both.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1._
     They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve
     with nothing.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2._
     Superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives
     longer.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2._
     If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels
     had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes'
     palaces.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2._
     The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps
     o'er a cold decree.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2._
    He doth nothing but talk of his horse.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2._
    God, made him, and therefore let him pass for a man.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2._
     When he is best, he is a little worse than a man; and when he is
     worst, he is little better than a beast.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2._
    I dote on his very absence.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2._
     My meaning in saying he is a good man, is to have you understand
     me that he is sufficient.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3._
     Ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats and
     water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3._
     I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you,
     and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you,
     nor pray with you. What news on the Rialto?
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3._
    I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
    He hates our sacred nation, and he rails,
    Even there where merchants most do congregate.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3._
    The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3._
    A goodly apple rotten at the heart:
    O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3._
                        Many a time and oft
    In the Rialto you have rated me.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3._
    For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3._
    You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
    And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key,
    With bated breath and whispering humbleness.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3._
                 For when did friendship take
    A breed for barren metal of his friend?
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3._
    O Father Abram! what these Christians are,
    Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
    The thoughts of others!
_The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Mislike me not for my complexion,
    The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 1._
     The young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies and such
     odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of learning, is
     indeed deceased; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to
     heaven.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    The very staff of my age, my very prop.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    It is a wise father that knows his own child.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    An honest exceeding poor man.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Truth will come to sight; murder cannot be hid long.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    In the twinkling of an eye.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    And the vile squeaking of the wry-necked fife.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 5._
                          All things that are,
    Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.
    How like a younker or a prodigal
    The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
    Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind!
    How like the prodigal doth she return,
    With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails,
    Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6._
    Must I hold a candle to my shames?
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6._
    But love is blind, and lovers cannot see
    The pretty follies that themselves commit.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6._
    All that glisters is not gold.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    Young in limbs, in judgment old.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    Even in the force and road of casualty.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 9._
    Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 9._
    If my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs,
     dimensions, senses, affections, passions?
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     The villany you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard,
     but I will better the instruction.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 1._
             Makes a swan-like end,
    Fading in music.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Tell me where is fancy bred,
      Or in the heart or in the head?
    How begot, how nourished?
      Reply, Reply.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt
    But being season'd with a gracious voice
    Obscures the show of evil?
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    There is no vice so simple but assumes
    Some mark of virtue in his outward parts.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
    To a most dangerous sea.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    The seeming truth which cunning times put on
    To entrap the wisest.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    An unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised;
    Happy in this, she is not yet so old
    But she may learn.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words
    That ever blotted paper!
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2._
                      The kindest man,
    The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit
    In doing courtesies.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     Thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your
     mother.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 5._
    Let it serve for table-talk.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 5._
    A harmless necessary cat.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    What! wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice?
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    I am a tainted wether of the flock,
    Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit
    Drops earliest to the ground.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    I never knew so young a body with so old a head.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
    It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
    Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
    It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
    'T is mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
    The throned monarch better than his crown;
    His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
    The attribute to awe and majesty,
    Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
    But mercy is above this sceptred sway,
    It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
    It is an attribute to God himself;
    And earthly power doth then show likest God's,
    When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
    Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
    That in the course of justice none of us
    Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
    And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
    The deeds of mercy.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Is it so nominated in the bond?
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    'T is not in the bond.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Speak me fair in death.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    An upright judge, a learned judge!
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!
    Now, infidel, I have you on the hip.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    You take my house when you do take the prop
    That doth sustain my house; you take my life
    When you do take the means whereby I live.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    He is well paid that is well satisfied.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
    Here we will sit and let the sounds of music
    Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night
    Become the touches of sweet harmony.
    Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
    Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold:
    There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
    But in his motion like an angel sings,
    Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins.
    Such harmony is in immortal souls;
    But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
    Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act v. Sc. 1._
    I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act v. Sc. 1._
    The man that hath no music in himself,
    Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
    Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
    The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
    And his affections dark as Erebus.
    Let no such man be trusted.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act v. Sc. 1._
    How far that little candle throws his beams!
    So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act v. Sc. 1._
    How many things by season season'd are
    To their right praise and true perfection!
_The Merchant of Venice. Act v. Sc. 1._
    This night methinks is but the daylight sick.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act v. Sc. 1._
    These blessed candles of the night.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
    Of starved people.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act v. Sc. 1._
    We will answer all things faithfully.
_The Merchant of Venice. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Fortune reigns in gifts of the world.
_As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2._
     The little foolery that wise men have makes a great show.
_As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Well said: that was laid on with a trowel.
_As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Your heart's desires be with you!
_As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2._
    One out of suits with fortune.
_As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Hereafter, in a better world than this,
    I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
_As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2._
    My pride fell with my fortunes.
_As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2._
    _Cel._ Not a word?
    _Ros._ Not one to throw at a dog.
_As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 3._
    O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
_As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
_As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 3._
    We 'll have a swashing and a martial outside,
    As many other mannish cowards have.
_As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Sweet are the uses of adversity,
    Which like the toad, ugly and venomous,
    Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
    And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
    Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
    Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1._
                     The big round tears
    Coursed one another down his innocent nose
    In piteous chase.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    "Poor deer," quoth he, "thou makest a testament
    As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
    To that which had too much."
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1._
                 And He that doth the ravens feed,
    Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
    Be comfort to my age!
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    For in my youth I never did apply
    Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
    Frosty, but kindly.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    O, good old man, how well in thee appears
    The constant service of the antique world,
    When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
    Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
    Where none will sweat but for promotion.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 3._
     Ay, now am I in Arden: the more fool I. When I was at home I was
     in a better place; but travellers must be content.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 4._
     I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins
     against it.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Under the greenwood tree
    Who loves to lie with me.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 5._
                 I met a fool i' the forest,
    A motley fool.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms,
    In good set terms.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    And then he drew a dial from his poke,
    And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
    Says very wisely, "It is ten o'clock:
    Thus we may see," quoth he, "how the world wags."
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
    And then from hour to hour we rot and rot;
    And thereby hangs a tale.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
    That fools should be so deep-contemplative;
    And I did laugh sans intermission
    An hour by his dial.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    Motley 's the only wear.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
                 If ladies be but young and fair,
    They have the gift to know it; and in his brain,
    Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
    After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd
    With observation, the which he vents
    In mangled forms.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
                         I must have liberty
    Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
    To blow on whom I please.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    The "why" is plain as way to parish church.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
    Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;
    If ever you have look'd on better days,
    If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church,
    If ever sat at any good man's feast.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    True is it that we have seen better days.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
                           And wiped our eyes
    Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
                       All the world 's a stage,
    And all the men and women merely players.
    They have their exits and their entrances;
    And one man in his time plays many parts,
    His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
    Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
    And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
    And shining morning face, creeping like snail
    Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
    Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
    Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
    Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard;
    Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
    Seeking the bubble reputation
    Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
    In fair round belly with good capon lined,
    With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
    Full of wise saws and modern instances;
    And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
    Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
    With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
    His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
    For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
    Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
    And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
    That ends this strange eventful history,
    Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
    Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    Blow, blow, thou winter wind!
    Thou art not so unkind
      As man's ingratitude.
_As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she.
_As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     It goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee,
     shepherd?
_As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     He that wants money, means, and content is without three good
     friends.
_As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    This is the very false gallop of verses.
_As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Let us make an honourable retreat.
_As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    With bag and baggage.
_As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     O, wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet
     again wonderful, and after that out of all hooping.
_As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Answer me in one word.
_As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    I do desire we may be better strangers.
_As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I 'll tell you
     who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops
     withal, and who he stands still withal.
_As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     Every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to
     match it.
_As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Neither rhyme nor reason.
_As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    I would the gods had made thee poetical.
_As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2._
                           Down on your knees,
    And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love.
_As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 5._
     It is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples,
     extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation
     of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most
     humorous sadness.
_As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    I have gained my experience.
_As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1._
     I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make
     me sad.
_As You Like it. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola.
_As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    I 'll warrant him heart-whole.
_As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Good orators, when they are out, they will spit.
_As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1._
     Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them,--but
     not for love.
_As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Can one desire too much of a good thing?
_As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    For ever and a day.
_As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1._
     Men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are
     May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives.
_As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    The horn, the horn, the lusty horn
    Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.
_As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Chewing the food[71-2] of sweet and bitter fancy.
_As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    It is meat and drink to me.
_As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 1._
     "So so" is good, very good, very excellent good; and yet it is
     not; it is but so so.
_As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 1._
     The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to
     be a fool.
_As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 1._
    I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways.
_As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 1._
     No sooner met but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved;
     no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked
     one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought
     the remedy.
_As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 2._
     How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another
     man's eyes!
_As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 2._
     Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues
     are called fools.
_As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 4._
    An ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own.
_As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 4._
     Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; as your
     pearl in your foul oyster.
_As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 4._
     The Retort Courteous; . . . the Quip Modest; . . . the Reply
     Churlish; . . . the Reproof Valiant; . . . the Countercheck
     Quarrelsome; . . . the Lie with Circumstance; . . . the Lie
     Direct.
_As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 4._
    Your If is the only peacemaker; much virtue in If.
_As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 4._
    Good wine needs no bush.
_As You Like It. Epilogue._
    What a case am I in.
_As You Like It. Epilogue._
     Look in the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror.
_The Taming of the Shrew. Induc. Sc. 1._
    Let the world slide.
_The Taming of the Shrew. Induc. Sc. 1._
    I 'll not budge an inch.
_The Taming of the Shrew. Induc. Sc. 1._
    As Stephen Sly and old John Naps of Greece,
    And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell,
    And twenty more such names and men as these
    Which never were, nor no man ever saw.
_The Taming of the Shrew. Induc. Sc. 2._
    No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en;
    In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
_The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 1._
    There 's small choice in rotten apples.
_The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Nothing comes amiss; so money comes withal.
_The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs.
_The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 2._
    And do as adversaries do in law,
    Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.
_The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Who wooed in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
_The Taming of the Shrew. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    And thereby hangs a tale.
_The Taming of the Shrew. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    My cake is dough.
_The Taming of the Shrew. Act v. Sc. 1._
    A woman moved is like a fountain troubled,
    Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty.
_The Taming of the Shrew. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
    Even such a woman oweth to her husband.
_The Taming of the Shrew. Act v. Sc. 2._
                 'T were all one
    That I should love a bright particular star,
    And think to wed it.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 1._
    The hind that would be mated by the lion
    Must die for love.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
    Which we ascribe to Heaven.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Service is no heritage.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3._
    He must needs go that the devil drives.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3._
    My friends were poor but honest.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
    Where most it promises.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
    The place is dignified by the doer's deed.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    They say miracles are past.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    All the learned and authentic fellows.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    A young man married is a man that 's marr'd.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Make the coming hour o'erflow with joy,
    And pleasure drown the brim.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    No legacy is so rich as honesty.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act iii. Sc. 5._
     The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    Whose words all ears took captive.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3._
                   Praising what is lost
    Makes the remembrance dear.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3._
    The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3._
          All impediments in fancy's course
    Are motives of more fancy.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3._
    The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
_All's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3._
    If music be the food of love, play on;
    Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
    The appetite may sicken, and so die.
    That strain again! it had a dying fall:
    O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
    That breathes upon a bank of violets,
    Stealing and giving odour!
_Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1._
    I am sure care 's an enemy to life.
_Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3._
    At my fingers' ends.
_Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Wherefore are these things hid?
_Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Is it a world to hide virtues in?
_Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3._
     One draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and
     a third drowns him.
_Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5._
    We will draw the curtain and show you the picture.
_Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5._
    'T is beauty truly blent, whose red and white
    Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
    Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive
    If you will lead these graces to the grave
    And leave the world no copy.
_Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5._
    Halloo your name to the reverberate hills,
    And make the babbling gossip of the air
    Cry out.
_Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5._
    Journeys end in lovers meeting,
    Every wise man's son doth know.
_Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.
_Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3._
     He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.
_Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3._
     Is there no respect of place, parsons, nor time in you?
_Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3._
     _Sir To._ Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall
     be no more cakes and ale?
     _Clo._ Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth
     too.
_Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.
_Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    These most brisk and giddy-paced times.
_Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4._
                     Let still the woman take
    An elder than herself: so wears she to him,
    So sways she level in her husband's heart:
    For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
    Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
    More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
    Than women's are.
_Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
    Or thy affection cannot hold the bent.
_Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
    And the free maids that weave their thread with bones
    Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,
    And dallies with the innocence of love,
    Like the old age.
_Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    _Duke._          And what 's her history?
    _Vio._ A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
    But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
    Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
    And with a green and yellow melancholy
    She sat like patience on a monument,
    Smiling at grief.
_Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    I am all the daughters of my father's house,
    And all the brothers too.
_Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4._
     An you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at
     your heels than fortunes before you.
_Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 5._
     Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have
     greatness thrust upon 'em.
_Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 5._
     Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines
     everywhere.
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Oh, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
    In the contempt and anger of his lip!
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a
     goose-pen, no matter.
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Put thyself into the trick of singularity.
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    'T is not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan.
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    This is very midsummer madness.
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4._
     What, man! defy the Devil: consider, he is an enemy to mankind.
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4._
     If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an
     improbable fiction.
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    More matter for a May morning.
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Still you keep o' the windy side of the law.
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4._
     An I thought he had been valiant and so cunning in fence, I 'ld
     have seen him damned ere I 'ld have challenged him.
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Out of my lean and low ability
    I 'll lend you something.
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Out of the jaws of death.
_Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4._
     As the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very
     wittily said to a niece of King Gorboduc, That that is, is.
_Twelfth Night. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     _Clo._ What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl?
     _Mal._ That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.
_Twelfth Night. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
_Twelfth Night. Act v. Sc. 1._
    For the rain it raineth every day.
_Twelfth Night. Act v. Sc. 1._
                         They say we are
    Almost as like as eggs.
_The Winter's Tale. Act i. Sc. 2._
             What 's gone and what 's past help
    Should be past grief.
_The Winter's Tale. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.
_The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    A merry heart goes all the day,
      Your sad tires in a mile-a.
_The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 3._
                           O Proserpina,
    For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall
    From Dis's waggon! daffodils,
    That come before the swallow dares, and take
    The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
    But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes
    Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
    That die unmarried, ere they can behold
    Bright Phoebus in his strength,--a malady
    Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and
    The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
    The flower-de-luce being one.
_The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4._
               When you do dance, I wish you
    A wave o' the sea,[78-2] that you might ever do
    Nothing but that.
_The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4._
     I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are
     true.
_The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    To unpathed waters, undreamed shores.
_The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    Lord of thy presence and no land beside.
_King John. Act i. Sc. 1._
    And if his name be George, I 'll call him Peter;
    For new-made honour doth forget men's names.
_King John. Act i. Sc. 1._
    For he is but a bastard to the time
    That doth not smack of observation.
_King John. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth.
_King John. Act i. Sc. 1._
    For courage mounteth with occasion.
_King John. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    I would that I were low laid in my grave:
    I am not worth this coil that 's made for me.
_King John. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Saint George, that swinged the dragon, and e'er since
    Sits on his horse back at mine hostess' door.
_King John. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    He is the half part of a blessed man,
    Left to be finished by such as she;
    And she a fair divided excellence,
    Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.
_King John. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Talks as familiarly of roaring lions
    As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs!
_King John. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words
    Since I first call'd my brother's father dad.
_King John. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    I will instruct my sorrows to be proud;
    For grief is proud, and makes his owner stoop.
_King John. Act iii. Sc. 1._
                        Here I and sorrows sit;
    Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.
_King John. Act iii. Sc. 1._
                Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward!
    Thou little valiant, great in villany!
    Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!
    Thou Fortune's champion that dost never fight
    But when her humorous ladyship is by
    To teach thee safety.
_King John. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,
    And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.
_King John. Act iii. Sc. 1._
                          That no Italian priest
    Shall tithe or toll in our dominions.
_King John. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
    Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
    Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
    Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
    Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.
_King John. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale
    Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.
_King John. Act iii. Sc. 4._
           When Fortune means to men most good,
    She looks upon them with a threatening eye.
_King John. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    And he that stands upon a slippery place.
    Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.
_King John. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    How now, foolish rheum!
_King John. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
    To throw a perfume on the violet,
    To smooth the ice, or add another hue
    Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
    To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
    Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.
_King John. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    And oftentimes excusing of a fault
    Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.
_King John. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    We cannot hold mortality's strong hand.
_King John. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Make haste; the better foot before.
_King John. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus,
    The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool,
    With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news.
_King John. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Another lean unwashed artificer.
_King John. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds
    Make deeds ill done!
_King John. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Mocking the air with colours idly spread.
_King John. Act v. Sc. 1._
                   'T is strange that death should sing.
    I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,
    Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death,
    And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings
    His soul and body to their lasting rest.
_King John. Act v. Sc. 7._
    Now my soul hath elbow-room.
_King John. Act v. Sc. 7._
    This England never did, nor never shall,
    Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror.
_King John. Act v. Sc. 7._
    Come the three corners of the world in arms,
    And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue,
    If England to itself do rest but true.
_King John. Act v. Sc. 7._
    Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster.
_King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 1._
    In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.
_King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 1._
    The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.
_King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Truth hath a quiet breast.
_King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3._
    All places that the eye of heaven visits
    Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.
_King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3._
    O, who can hold a fire in his hand
    By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?
    Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite
    By bare imagination of a feast?
    Or wallow naked in December snow
    By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
    O, no! the apprehension of the good
    Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.
_King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3._
                 The tongues of dying men
    Enforce attention like deep harmony.
_King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    The setting sun, and music at the close,
    As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,
    Writ in remembrance more than things long past.
_King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
    This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
    This other Eden, demi-paradise,
    This fortress built by Nature for herself
    Against infection and the hand of war,
    This happy breed of men, this little world,
    This precious stone set in the silver sea,
    Which serves it in the office of a wall
    Or as a moat defensive to a house,
    Against the envy of less happier lands,
    This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
_King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    The ripest fruit first falls.
_King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor.
_King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Eating the bitter bread of banishment.
_King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Fires the proud tops of the eastern pines.
_King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Not all the water in the rough rude sea
    Can wash the balm off from an anointed king.
_King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    O, call back yesterday, bid time return!
_King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Let 's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs.
_King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    And nothing can we call our own but death
    And that small model of the barren earth
    Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
    For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground
    And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
_King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Comes at the last, and with a little pin
    Bores through his castle wall--and farewell king!
_King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2._
                     He is come to open
    The purple testament of bleeding war.
_King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    And my large kingdom for a little grave,
    A little little grave, an obscure grave.
_King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                                   Gave
    His body to that pleasant country's earth,
    And his pure soul unto his captain Christ,
    Under whose colours he had fought so long.
_King Richard II. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    A mockery king of snow.
_King Richard II. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    As in a theatre, the eyes of men,
    After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
    Are idly bent on him that enters next,
    Thinking his prattle to be tedious.
_King Richard II. Act v. Sc. 2._
                          As for a camel
    To thread the postern of a small needle's eye.
_King Richard II. Act v. Sc. 5._
    So shaken as we are, so wan with care.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 1._
                       In those holy fields
    Over whose acres walked those blessed feet
    Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd
    For our advantage on the bitter cross.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 1._
     Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Old father antic the law.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2._
     I would to God thou and I knew where a commodity of good names
     were to be bought.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2._
     Thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeed able to corrupt a
     saint.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2._
     And now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one
     of the wicked.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2._
     'T is my vocation, Hal; 't is no sin for a man to labour in his
     vocation.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2._
    He will give the devil his due.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2._
     There 's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2._
    If all the year were playing holidays,
    To sport would be as tedious as to work.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd
    Showed like a stubble-land at harvest-home;
    He was perfumed like a milliner,
    And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
    A pouncet-box, which ever and anon
    He gave his nose and took 't away again.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3._
    And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
    He called the untaught knaves, unmannerly,
    To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
    Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3._
    God save the mark.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3._
    And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth
    Was parmaceti for an inward bruise;
    And that it was great pity, so it was,
    This villanous saltpetre should be digg'd
    Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
    Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
    So cowardly; and but for these vile guns,
    He would himself have been a soldier.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3._
                              The blood more stirs
    To rouse a lion than to start a hare!
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3._
    By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap
    To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon,
    Or dive into the bottom of the deep,
    Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,
    And pluck up drowned honour by the locks.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3._
    I know a trick worth two of that.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 1._
     If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I
     'll be hanged.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     It would be argument for a week, laughter for a month, and a good
     jest for ever.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                      Falstaff sweats to death,
    And lards the lean earth as he walks along.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Brain him with his lady's fan.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    A Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    A plague of all cowards, I say.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
     There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of
     them is fat and grows old.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
     Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such
     backing!
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
     I have peppered two of them: two I am sure I have paid, two
     rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a
     lie, spit in my face; call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward:
     here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let
     drive at  me
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Three misbegotten knaves in Kendal green.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
     Give you a reason on compulsion! If reasons were as plentiful as
     blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Mark now, how a plain tale shall put you down.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    I was now a coward on instinct.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    No more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me!
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight?
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
     A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    In King Cambyses' vein.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
     That reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that
     vanity in years.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Banish plump Jack, and banish all the world.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Play out the play.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
     O, monstrous! but one half-pennyworth of bread to this
     intolerable deal of sack!
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth
    In strange eruptions.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    I am not in the roll of common men.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    _Glen._ I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
    _Hot._ Why, so can I, or so can any man;
    But will they come when you do call for them?
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    While you live, tell truth and shame the devil!
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    I had rather be a kitten and cry mew
    Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    But in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
    I 'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    A deal of skimble-skamble stuff.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Exceedingly well read.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    A good mouth-filling oath.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    A fellow of no mark nor likelihood.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little
    More than a little is by much too much.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I
     am a pepper-corn.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 3._
     Company, villanous company, hath been the spoil of me.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn?
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Rob me the exchequer.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                  This sickness doth infect
    The very life-blood of our enterprise.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1._
                 That daffed the world aside,
    And bid it pass.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    All plumed like estridges that with the wind
    Baited like eagles having lately bathed;
    Glittering in golden coats, like images;
    As full of spirit as the month of May,
    And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    I saw young Harry, with his beaver on,
    His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd,
    Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury,
    And vaulted with such ease into his seat
    As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds,
    To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus
    And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    The cankers of a calm world and a long peace.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     A mad fellow met me on the way and told me I had unloaded all the
     gibbets and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such
     scarecrows. I 'll not march through Coventry with them, that 's
     flat: nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if
     they had gyves on; for indeed I had the most of them out of
     prison. There 's but a shirt and a half in all my company; and
     the half-shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the
     shoulders like an herald's coat without sleeves.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     Food for powder, food for powder; they 'll fill a pit as well as
     better.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. 2._
    To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast
    Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. 2._
    I would 't were bedtime, Hal, and all well.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1._
     Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I
     come on,--how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no:
     or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in
     surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word
     honour; what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it?
     he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it?
     no. 'T is insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not
     live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it.
     Therefore I 'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so
     ends my catechism.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4._
               This earth that bears thee dead
    Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4._
    Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,
    But not remember'd in thy epitaph!
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4._
    I could have better spared a better man.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4._
    The better part of valour is discretion.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4._
              Full bravely hast thou fleshed
    Thy maiden sword.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4._
     Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying! I grant you I was
     down and out of breath; and so was he. But we rose both at an
     instant, and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4._
    I 'll purge, and leave sack, and live cleanly.
_King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4._
    Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
    So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,
    Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,
    And would have told him half his Troy was burnt.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
    Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
    Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
    Remember'd tolling a departing friend.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 1._
     I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other
     men.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2._
    A rascally yea-forsooth knave.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2._
     Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2._
    We that are in the vaward of our youth.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2._
     For my voice, I have lost it with halloing and singing of
     anthems.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2._
     It was alway yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a
     good thing to make it too common.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2._
     I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured
     to nothing with perpetual motion.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2._
    If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2._
                  Who lined himself with hope,
    Eating the air on promise of supply.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2._
                  When we mean to build,
    We first survey the plot, then draw the model;
    And when we see the figure of the house,
    Then must we rate the cost of the erection.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 3._
    An habitation giddy and unsure
    Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Past and to come seems best; things present worst.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 3._
    A poor lone woman.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    I 'll tickle your catastrophe.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    He hath eaten me out of house and home.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1._
     Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my
     Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon
     Wednesday in Wheeson week.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    I do now remember the poor creature, small beer.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Let the end try the man.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     Thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the wise
     sit in the clouds and mock us.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                He was indeed the glass
    Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Aggravate your choler.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 4._
                      O sleep, O gentle sleep,
    Nature's soft nurse! how have I frighted thee,
    That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
    And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    With all appliances and means to boot.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die.
     How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     Accommodated; that is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated;
     or when a man is, being, whereby a' may be thought to be
     accommodated,--which is an excellent thing.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Most forcible Feeble.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    We have heard the chimes at midnight.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    A man can die but once.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     Like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring: when a' was
     naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked radish, with a
     head fantastically carved upon it with a knife.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2._
             We are ready to try our fortunes
    To the last man.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     I may justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, "I came,
     saw, and overcame."
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
    Open as day for melting charity.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 5._
                             Commit
    The oldest sins the newest kind of ways.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 5._
     A joint of mutton, and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell
     William cook.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act v. Sc. 1._
    His cares are now all ended.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act v. Sc. 2._
    _Falstaff._ What wind blew you hither, Pistol?
    _Pistol._ Not the ill wind which blows no man to good.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act v. Sc. 3._
    A foutre for the world and worldlings base!
    I speak of Africa and golden joys.
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act v. Sc. 3._
    Under which king, Bezonian? speak, or die!
_King Henry IV. Part II. Act v. Sc. 3._
    O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
    The brightest heaven of invention!
_King Henry V. Prologue._
    Consideration, like an angel, came
    And whipped the offending Adam out of him.
_King Henry V. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Turn him to any cause of policy,
    The Gordian knot of it he will unloose,
    Familiar as his garter: that when he speaks,
    The air, a chartered libertine, is still.
_King Henry V. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Base is the slave that pays.
_King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Even at the turning o' the tide.
_King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 3._
     His nose was as sharp as a pen, and a' babbled of green fields.
_King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    As cold as any stone.
_King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin
    As self-neglecting.
_King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,
    Or close the wall up with our English dead!
    In peace there 's nothing so becomes a man
    As modest stillness and humility;
    But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
    Then imitate the action of the tiger:
    Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.
_King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.
_King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
    Straining upon the start.
_King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.
_King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Men of few words are the best men.
_King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    I thought upon one pair of English legs
    Did march three Frenchmen.
_King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 6._
     You may as well say, that 's a valiant flea that dare eat his
     breakfast on the lip of a lion.
_King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 7._
    The hum of either army stilly sounds,
    That the fixed sentinels almost receive
    The secret whispers of each other's watch;
    Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
    Each battle sees the other's umbered face;
    Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
    Piercing the night's dull ear, and from the tents
    The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
    With busy hammers closing rivets up,
    Give dreadful note of preparation.
_King Henry V. Act iv. Prologue._
    There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
    Would men observingly distil it out.
_King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 1._
     Every subject's duty is the king's; but every subject's soul is
     his own.
_King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    That 's a perilous shot out of an elder-gun.
_King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Who with a body filled and vacant mind
    Gets him to rest, crammed with distressful bread.
_King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep.
_King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    But if it be a sin to covet honour,
    I am the most offending soul alive.
_King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    This day is called the feast of Crispian:
    He that outlives this day and comes safe home,
    Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
    And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
_King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3._
                  Then shall our names,
    Familiar in his mouth[92-2] as household words,
    Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
    Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
    Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
_King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.
_King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3._
     There is a river in Macedon; and there is also moreover a river
     at Monmouth; . . . and there is salmons in both.
_King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 7._
     An arrant traitor as any is in the universal world, or in France,
     or in England!
_King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 8._
     There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things.
_King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 1._
     By this leek, I will most horribly revenge: I eat and eat, I
     swear.
_King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 1._
    All hell shall stir for this.
_King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 1._
     If he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best
     king of good fellows.
_King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!
_King Henry VI. Part I. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Halcyon days.
_King Henry VI. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch;
    Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth;
    Between two blades, which bears the better temper;
    Between two horses, which doth bear him best;
    Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye,
    I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judgment;
    But in these nice sharp quillets of the law,
    Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.
_King Henry VI. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Delays have dangerous ends.
_King Henry VI. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    She 's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed;
    She is a woman, therefore to be won.
_King Henry VI. Part I. Act v. Sc. 3._
    Main chance.
_King Henry VI. Part II. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Could I come near your beauty with my nails,
    I'd set my ten commandments in your face.
_King Henry VI. Part II. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep.
_King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted!
    Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just,
    And he but naked, though locked up in steel,
    Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
_King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    He dies, and makes no sign.
_King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close;
    And let us all to meditation.
_King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day
    Is crept into the bosom of the sea.
_King Henry VI. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 1._
     There shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a
     penny; the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops; and I will make
     it felony to drink small beer.
_King Henry VI. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent
     lamb should be made parchment? that parchment, being scribbled
     o'er, should undo a man?
_King Henry VI. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are
     alive at this day to testify it.
_King Henry VI. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in
     erecting a grammar-school; and whereas, before, our forefathers
     had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused
     printing to be used, and, contrary to the king, his crown and
     dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill.
_King Henry VI. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 7._
    How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown,
    Within whose circuit is Elysium
    And all that poets feign of bliss and joy!
_King Henry VI. Part III. Act i. Sc. 2._
    And many strokes, though with a little axe,
    Hew down and fell the hardest-timbered oak.
_King Henry VI. Part III. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on.
_King Henry VI. Part III. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                  Didst thou never hear
    That things ill got had ever bad success?
    And happy always was it for that son
    Whose father for his hoarding went to hell?
_King Henry VI. Part III. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                               Warwick, peace,
    Proud setter up and puller down of kings!
_King Henry VI. Part III. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    A little fire is quickly trodden out;
    Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench.
_King Henry VI. Part III. Act iv. Sc. 8._
    Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;
    The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
_King Henry VI. Part III. Act v. Sc. 6._
    Now is the winter of our discontent
    Made glorious summer by this sun of York,
    And all the clouds that loured upon our house
    In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
    Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,
    Our bruised arms hung up for monuments,
    Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
    Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
    Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front;
    And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds
    To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
    He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
    To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
    But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
    Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
    I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty
    To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
    I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion,
    Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
    Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time
    Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
    And that so lamely and unfashionable
    That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,
    Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
    Have no delight to pass away the time,
    Unless to spy my shadow in the sun.
_King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 1._
    To leave this keen encounter of our wits.
_King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Was ever woman in this humour wooed?
    Was ever woman in this humour won?
_King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Framed in the prodigality of nature.
_King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 2._
                The world is grown so bad,
    That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch.
_King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 3._
    And thus I clothe my naked villany
    With old odd ends stolen out of[96-2] holy writ,
    And seem a saint when most I play the devil.
_King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 3._
    O, I have passed a miserable night,
    So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams,
    That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
    I would not spend another such a night,
    Though 't were to buy a world of happy days.
_King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 4._
    Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown!
    What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears!
    What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
    Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks,
    Ten thousand men that fishes gnawed upon,
    Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
    Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
    All scattered in the bottom of the sea:
    Some lay in dead men's skulls; and in those holes
    Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
    As 't were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems.
_King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 4._
    A parlous boy.
_King Richard III. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    So wise so young, they say, do never live long.
_King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Off with his head!
_King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast,
    Ready with every nod to tumble down.
_King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Even in the afternoon of her best days.
_King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 7._
    Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein.
_King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Their lips were four red roses on a stalk.
_King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom.
_King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
    Rail on the Lord's anointed.
_King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    Tetchy and wayward.
_King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told.
_King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    Thus far into the bowels of the land
    Have we marched on without impediment.
_King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 2._
    True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings;
    Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.
_King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 2._
    The king's name is a tower of strength.
_King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3._
    Give me another horse: bind up my wounds.
_King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3._
    O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!
_King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3._
    My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
    And every tongue brings in a several tale,
    And every tale condemns me for a villain.
_King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3._
                     The early village cock
    Hath twice done salutation to the morn.
_King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3._
      By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night
    Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard
    Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers.
_King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3._
                    The selfsame heaven
    That frowns on me looks sadly upon him.
_King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3._
    A thing devised by the enemy.
_King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3._
                   I have set my life upon a cast,
    And I will stand the hazard of the die:
    I think there be six Richmonds in the field.
_King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 4._
    A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
_King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 4._
    Order gave each thing view.
_King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1._
                     No man's pie is freed
    From his ambitious finger.
_King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1._
                           Anger is like
    A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way,
    Self-mettle tires him.
_King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
    That it do singe yourself.
_King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1._
    'T is but the fate of place, and the rough brake
    That virtue must go through.
_King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 2._
    The mirror of all courtesy.
_King Henry VIII. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    This bold bad man.
_King Henry VIII. Act ii. Sc. 2._
         'T is better to be lowly born,
    And range with humble livers in content,
    Than to be perked up in a glistering grief,
    And wear a golden sorrow.
_King Henry VIII. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Orpheus with his lute made trees,
    And the mountain-tops that freeze,
    Bow themselves when he did sing.
_King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 1._
                             'T is well said again,
    And 't is a kind of good deed to say well:
    And yet words are no deeds.
_King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2._
                   And then to breakfast with
    What appetite you have.
_King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    I have touched the highest point of all my greatness;
    And from that full meridian of my glory
    I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
    Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
    And no man see me more.
_King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Press not a falling man too far!
_King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!
    This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth
    The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms,
    And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;
    The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
    And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
    His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
    And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,
    Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
    This many summers in a sea of glory,
    But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
    At length broke under me and now has left me,
    Weary and old with service, to the mercy
    Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me.
    Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:
    I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched
    Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
    There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
    That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
    More pangs and fears than wars or women have:
    And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
    Never to hope again.
_King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    A peace above all earthly dignities,
    A still and quiet conscience.
_King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    A load would sink a navy.
_King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    And sleep in dull cold marble.
_King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,
    And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,
    Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in;
    A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it.
_King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2._
      I charge thee, fling away ambition:
    By that sin fell the angels.
_King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee;
    Corruption wins not more than honesty.
    Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
    To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not:
    Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,
    Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell,
    Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!
_King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Had I but served my God with half the zeal
    I served my king, he would not in mine age
    Have left me naked to mine enemies.
_King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    A royal train, believe me.
_King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    An old man, broken with the storms of state,
    Is come to lay his weary bones among ye:
    Give him a little earth for charity!
_King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    He gave his honours to the world again,
    His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.
_King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him!
_King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2._
                     He was a man
    Of an unbounded stomach.
_King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues
    We write in water.
_King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
    Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading;
    Lofty and sour to them that loved him not,
    But to those men that sought him sweet as summer.
_King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2._
                Yet in bestowing, madam,
    He was most princely.
_King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    After my death I wish no other herald,
    No other speaker of my living actions,
    To keep mine honour from corruption,
    But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
_King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures.
_King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 2._
                      'T is a cruelty
    To load a falling man.
_King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 3._
    You were ever good at sudden commendations.
_King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 3._
                                 I come not
    To hear such flattery now, and in my presence.
_King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 3._
    They are too thin and bare to hide offences.
_King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 3._
                            Those about her
    From her shall read the perfect ways of honour.
_King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 5._
    Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
    His honour and the greatness of his name
    Shall be, and make new nations.
_King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 5._
    A most unspotted lily shall she pass
    To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
_King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 5._
    I have had my labour for my travail.
_Troilus and Cressida. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Take but degree away, untune that string,
    And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets
    In mere oppugnancy.
_Troilus and Cressida. Act i. Sc. 3._
    The baby figure of the giant mass
    Of things to come.
_Troilus and Cressida. Act i. Sc. 3._
                     Modest doubt is call'd
    The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
    To the bottom of the worst.
_Troilus and Cressida. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    The common curse of mankind,--folly and ignorance.
_Troilus and Cressida. Act ii. Sc. 3._
     All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet
     reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the
     perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of
     one.
_Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 2._
                   Welcome ever smiles,
    And farewell goes out sighing.
_Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.
_Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    And give to dust that is a little gilt
    More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
_Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    And like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
    Be shook to air.
_Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    His heart and hand both open and both free;
    For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows;
    Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty.
_Troilus and Cressida. Act iv. Sc. 5._
                    The end crowns all,
    And that old common arbitrator, Time,
    Will one day end it.
_Troilus and Cressida. Act iv. Sc. 5._
     Had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike and none less dear than
     thine and my good Marcius, I had rather eleven die nobly for
     their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
_Coriolanus. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
_Coriolanus. Act ii. Sc. 1._
     A cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in 't.
_Coriolanus. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Many-headed multitude.
_Coriolanus. Act ii. Sc. 3._
          I thank you for your voices: thank you:
    Your most sweet voices.
_Coriolanus. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Hear you this Triton of the minnows? Mark you
    His absolute "shall"?
_Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Enough, with over-measure.
_Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    His nature is too noble for the world:
    He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,
    Or Jove for 's power to thunder.
_Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    That it shall hold companionship in peace
    With honour, as in war.
_Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    _Serv._ Where dwellest thou?
    _Cor._ Under the canopy.
_Coriolanus. Act iv. Sc. 5._
    A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears,
    And harsh in sound to thine.
_Coriolanus. Act iv. Sc. 5._
                 Chaste as the icicle
    That 's curdied by the frost from purest snow
    And hangs on Dian's temple.
_Coriolanus. Act v. Sc. 3._
    If you have writ your annals true, 't is there
    That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
    Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli:
    Alone I did it. Boy!
_Coriolanus. Act v. Sc. 6._
    Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.
_Titus Andronicus. Act i. Sc. 2._
    She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd;
    She is a woman, therefore may be won;
    She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved.
    What, man! more water glideth by the mill
    Than wots the miller of;[104-1] and easy it is
    Of a cut loaf to steal a shive.
_Titus Andronicus. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    The eagle suffers little birds to sing.
_Titus Andronicus. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    The weakest goes to the wall.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 1._
          An hour before the worshipp'd sun
    Peered forth the golden window of the east.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 1._
    As is the bud bit with an envious worm
    Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
    Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Saint-seducing gold.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 1._
    He that is strucken blind cannot forget
    The precious treasure of his eyesight lost.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 1._
          One fire burns out another's burning,
    One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    That book in many's eyes doth share the glory
    That in gold clasps locks in the golden story.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 3._
    For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 4._
    O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you!
    She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
    In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
    On the fore-finger of an alderman,
    Drawn with a team of little atomies
    Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 4._
    Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
    Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 4._
    Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
    And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
    Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
    Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
    Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
    And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
    And sleeps again.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 4._
                   True, I talk of dreams,
    Which are the children of an idle brain,
    Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 4._
    For you and I are past our dancing days.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    It seems she hangs[105-2] upon the cheek of night
    Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    Shall have the chinks.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
_Romeo and Juliet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,
    When King Cophetua loved the beggar maid!
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
    But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
    It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
    O that I were a glove upon that hand,
    That I might touch that cheek!
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    What 's in a name? That which we call a rose
    By any other name would smell as sweet.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    For stony limits cannot hold love out.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
    Than twenty of their swords.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                At lovers' perjuries,
    They say, Jove laughs.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    _Rom._ Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,
    That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops
    _Jul._ O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
    That monthly changes in her circled orb,
    Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    The god of my idolatry.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
    Ere one can say, "It lightens."
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
    May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
    Like softest music to attending ears!
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow,
    That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
    In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:
    For nought so vile that on the earth doth live
    But to the earth some special good doth give,
    Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use
    Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
    Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
    And vice sometimes by action dignified.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
    And where care lodges, sleep will never lie.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Stabbed with a white wench's black eye.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    The courageous captain of complements.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    One, two, and the third in your bosom.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified!
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    I am the very pink of courtesy.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 4._
     A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk, and will
     speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    My man 's as true as steel.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    These violent delights have violent ends.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 6._
    Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 6._
    Here comes the lady! O, so light a foot
    Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 6._
     Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    A word and a blow.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    A plague o' both your houses!
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     _Rom._ Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
     _Mer._ No, 't is not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a
     church-door; but 't is enough, 't will serve.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
                     When he shall die,
    Take him and cut him out in little stars,
    And he will make the face of heaven so fine
    That all the world will be in love with night,
    And pay no worship to the garish sun.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Was ever book containing such vile matter
    So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell
    In such a gorgeous palace!
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                             They may seize
    On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand
    And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
    Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
    Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    The damned use that word in hell.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Taking the measure of an unmade grave.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
    Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 5._
    Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 5._
                        All these woes shall serve
    For sweet discourses in our time to come.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 5._
    Villain and he be many miles asunder.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 5._
    Thank me no thanks, nor proud me no prouds.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 5._
    Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act v. Sc. 1._
    I do remember an apothecary,
    And hereabouts he dwells.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act v. Sc. 1._
                      Meagre were his looks,
    Sharp misery had worn him to the bones.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act v. Sc. 1._
    A beggarly account of empty boxes.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Famine is in thy cheeks.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act v. Sc. 1._
    The world is not thy friend nor the world's law.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act v. Sc. 1._
    _Ap._ My poverty, but not my will, consents.
    _Rom._ I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act v. Sc. 1._
                  The strength
    Of twenty men.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act v. Sc. 1._
    One writ with me in sour misfortune's book.
_Romeo and Juliet. Act v. Sc. 3._
                         Her beauty makes
    This vault a feasting presence full of light.
_Romeo and Juliet, Act v. Sc. 3._
                      Beauty's ensign yet
    Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
    And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
_Romeo and Juliet, Act v. Sc. 3._
                  Eyes, look your last!
    Arms, take your last embrace!
_Romeo and Juliet, Act v. Sc. 3._
    But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,
    Leaving no tract behind.
_Timon of Athens. Act i. Sc. 1._
     Here 's that which is too weak to be a sinner,--honest water,
     which ne'er left man i' the mire.
_Timon of Athens. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Immortal gods, I crave no pelf;
    I pray for no man but myself;
    Grant I may never prove so fond,
    To trust man on his oath or bond.
_Timon of Athens. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
_Timon of Athens. Act i. Sc. 2._
                                Every room
    Hath blazed with lights and bray'd with minstrelsy.
_Timon of Athens. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    'T is lack of kindly warmth.
_Timon of Athens. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Every man has his fault, and honesty is his.
_Timon of Athens. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
_Timon of Athens. Act iii. Sc. 5._
    We have seen better days.
_Timon of Athens. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Are not within the leaf of pity writ.
_Timon of Athens. Act iv. Sc. 3._
          I 'll example you with thievery:
    The sun 's a thief, and with his great attraction
    Robs the vast sea; the moon 's an arrant thief,
    And her pale fire she snatches from the sun;
    The sea 's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
    The moon into salt tears; the earth 's a thief,
    That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen
    From general excrement: each thing 's a thief.
_Timon of Athens. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    Life's uncertain voyage.
_Timon of Athens. Act v. Sc. 1._
    As proper men as ever trod upon neat's leather.
_Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 1._
    The live-long day.
_Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Beware the ides of March.
_Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Well, honour is the subject of my story.
    I cannot tell what you and other men
    Think of this life; but, for my single self,
    I had as lief not be as live to be
    In awe of such a thing as I myself.
_Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 2._
                         "Darest thou, Cassius, now
    Leap in with me into this angry flood,
    And swim to yonder point?" Upon the word,
    Accoutred as I was, I plunged in
    And bade him follow.
_Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Help me, Cassius, or I sink!
_Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 2._
          Ye gods, it doth amaze me
    A man of such a feeble temper should
    So get the start of the majestic world
    And bear the palm alone.
_Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
    Like a Colossus, and we petty men
    Walk under his huge legs and peep about
    To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
    Men at some time are masters of their fates:
    The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
    But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
_Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 2._
                         Conjure with 'em,
    Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar.
    Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
    Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed,
    That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!
    Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
_Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 2._
    There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd
    The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome
    As easily as a king.
_Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Let me have men about me that are fat,
    Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights:
    Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
    He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
_Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 2._
                        He reads much;
    He is a great observer, and he looks
    Quite through the deeds of men.
_Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort
    As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit
    That could be moved to smile at anything.
_Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 2._
    But, for my own part, it was Greek to me.
_Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 2._
                        'T is a common proof,
    That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
    Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;
    But when he once attains the upmost[111-1] round,
    He then unto the ladder turns his back,
    Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
    By which he did ascend.
_Julius Cæsar. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Between the acting of a dreadful thing
    And the first motion, all the interim is
    Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream:
    The Genius and the mortal instruments
    Are then in council; and the state of man,
    Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
    The nature of an insurrection.
_Julius Cæsar. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    A dish fit for the gods.
_Julius Cæsar. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    But when I tell him he hates flatterers,
    He says he does, being then most flattered.
_Julius Cæsar. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter;
    Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber:
    Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies,
    Which busy care draws in the brains of men;
    Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.
_Julius Cæsar. Act ii. Sc. 1._
      With an angry wafture of your hand,
    Gave sign for me to leave you.
_Julius Cæsar. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    You are my true and honourable wife,
    As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
    That visit my sad heart.
_Julius Cæsar. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Think you I am no stronger than my sex,
    Being so father'd and so husbanded?
_Julius Cæsar. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds,
    In ranks and squadrons and right form of war,
    Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol.
_Julius Cæsar. Act ii. Sc. 2._
            These things are beyond all use,
    And I do fear them.
_Julius Cæsar. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    When beggars die, there are no comets seen;
    The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
_Julius Cæsar. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Cowards die many times before their deaths;
    The valiant never taste of death but once.
    Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
    It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
    Seeing that death, a necessary end,
    Will come when it will come.
_Julius Cæsar. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    _Cæs._ The ides of March are come.
    _Sooth._ Ay, Cæsar; but not gone.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    But I am constant as the northern star,
    Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality
    There is no fellow in the firmament.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Et tu, Brute!
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 1._
                  How many ages hence
    Shall this our lofty scene be acted over
    In states unborn and accents yet unknown!
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    The choice and master spirits of this age.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Though last, not least in love.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
    That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
    Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
    That ever lived in the tide of times.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Cry "Havoc," and let slip the dogs of war.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause, and be
     silent that you may hear.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Who is here so base that would be a bondman?
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
    I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
    The evil that men do lives after them;
    The good is oft interred with their bones.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    For Brutus is an honourable man;
    So are they all, all honourable men.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept:
    Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
    And men have lost their reason.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    But yesterday the word of Cæsar might
    Have stood against the world; now lies he there,
    And none so poor to do him reverence.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    See what a rent the envious Casca made.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    This was the most unkindest cut of all.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
                              Great Cæsar fell.
    O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
    Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
    Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    What private griefs they have, alas, I know not.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts:
    I am no orator, as Brutus is;
    But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    I only speak right on.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
                       Put a tongue
    In every wound of Cæsar that should move
    The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    When love begins to sicken and decay,
    It useth an enforced ceremony.
    There are no tricks in plain and simple faith.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 2._
                            You yourself
    Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    The foremost man of all this world.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
    Than such a Roman.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    I said, an elder soldier, not a better:
    Did I say "better"?
_Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats,
    For I am arm'd so strong in honesty
    That they pass by me as the idle wind,
    Which I respect not.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?
    When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
    To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
    Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts:
    Dash him to pieces!
_Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,
    But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 3._
                         All his faults observed,
    Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    There is a tide in the affairs of men
    Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
    Omitted, all the voyage of their life
    Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 3._
      We must take the current when it serves,
    Or lose our ventures.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    The deep of night is crept upon our talk,
    And nature must obey necessity.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    _Brutus._ Then I shall see thee again?
    _Ghost._ Ay, at Philippi.
    _Brutus._ Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then.
_Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees,
    And leave them honeyless.
_Julius Cæsar. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Forever, and forever, farewell, Cassius!
    If we do meet again, why, we shall smile;
    If not, why then this parting was well made.
_Julius Cæsar. Act v. Sc. 1._
          O, that a man might know
    The end of this day's business ere it come!
_Julius Cæsar. Act v. Sc. 1._
    The last of all the Romans, fare thee well!
_Julius Cæsar. Act v. Sc. 3._
    This was the noblest Roman of them all.
_Julius Cæsar. Act v. Sc. 5._
    His life was gentle, and the elements
    So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up
    And say to all the world, "This was a man!"
_Julius Cæsar. Act v. Sc. 5._
    _1 W._ When shall we three meet again
                In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
    _2 W._ When the hurlyburly 's done,
                When the battle 's lost and won.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Fair is foul, and foul is fair.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Banners flout the sky.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Sleep shall neither night nor day
    Hang upon his pent-house lid.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Dwindle, peak, and pine.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3._
                        What are these
    So wither'd and so wild in their attire,
    That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
    And yet are on 't?
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3._
    If you can look into the seeds of time,
    And say which grain will grow and which will not.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Stands not within the prospect of belief.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3._
    The earth hath bubbles as the water has,
    And these are of them.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3._
                        The insane root
    That takes the reason prisoner.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3._
    And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
    The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
    Win us with honest trifles, to betray 's
    In deepest consequence.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3._
                       Two truths are told,
    As happy prologues to the swelling act
    Of the imperial theme.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3._
    And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
    Against the use of nature. Present fears
    Are less than horrible imaginings.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3._
                           Nothing is
    But what is not.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3._
    If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3._
                  Come what come may,
    Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3._
                  Nothing in his life
    Became him like the leaving it; he died
    As one that had been studied in his death
    To throw away the dearest thing he owed,
    As 't were a careless trifle.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 4._
                      There 's no art
    To find the mind's construction in the face.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 4._
    More is thy due than more than all can pay.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 4._
                    Yet do I fear thy nature;
    It is too full o' the milk of human kindness.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 5._
                       What thou wouldst highly,
    That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,
    And yet wouldst wrongly win.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 5._
    That no compunctious visitings of nature
    Shake my fell purpose.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 5._
    Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
    May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
    Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
    Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
    But be the serpent under 't.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 5._
    Which shall to all our nights and days to come
    Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 5._
    This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
    Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
    Unto our gentle senses.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 6._
                   The heaven's breath
    Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,
    Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird
    Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle:
    Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed,
    The air is delicate.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 6._
    If it were done when 't is done, then 't were well
    It were done quickly: if the assassination
    Could trammel up the consequence, and catch
    With his surcease success; that but this blow
    Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
    But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
    We 'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases
    We still have judgment here; that we but teach
    Bloody instructions, which being taught, return
    To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice
    Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
    To our own lips.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 7._
                        Besides, this Duncan
    Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
    So clear in his great office, that his virtues
    Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
    The deep damnation of his taking-off;
    And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
    Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed
    Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
    Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
    That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur
    To prick the sides of my intent, but only
    Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,
    And falls on the other.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 7._
                              I have bought
    Golden opinions from all sorts of people.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 7._
    Letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would,"
    Like the poor cat i' the adage.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 7._
    I dare do all that may become a man;
    Who dares do more is none.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 7._
                          Nor time nor place
    Did then adhere.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 7._
    _Macb._ If we should fail?
    _Lady M._                  We fail!
    But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
    And we 'll not fail.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 7._
    Memory, the warder of the brain.
_Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 7._
                 There 's husbandry in heaven;
    Their candles are all out.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 1._
                               Shut up
    In measureless content.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Is this a dagger which I see before me,
    The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
    I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
    Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
    To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
    A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
    Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 1._
                 Now o'er the one half-world
    Nature seems dead.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 1._
                Thou sure and firm-set earth,
    Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
    Thy very stones prate of my whereabout.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 1._
                     The bell invites me.
    Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
    That summons thee to heaven or to hell.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman,
    Which gives the stern'st good-night.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                The attempt and not the deed
    Confounds us.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    I had most need of blessing, and "Amen"
    Stuck in my throat.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more!
    Macbeth does murder sleep!" the innocent sleep,
    Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,
    The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
    Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
    Chief nourisher in life's feast.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Infirm of purpose!
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                      'T is the eye of childhood
    That fears a painted devil.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
    Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
    The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
    Making the green one red.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    The labour we delight in physics pain.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 3._
      Dire combustion and confused events
    New hatch'd to the woful time.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 3._
                        Tongue nor heart
    Cannot conceive nor name thee!
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
    Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
    The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
    The life o' the building!
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
    Is left this vault to brag of.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious,
    Loyal and neutral, in a moment?
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    There 's daggers in men's smiles.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    A falcon, towering in her pride of place,
    Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd.
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up
    Thine own life's means!
_Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    I must become a borrower of the night
    For a dark hour or twain.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Let every man be master of his time
    Till seven at night.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown,
    And put a barren sceptre in my gripe,
    Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand,
    No son of mine succeeding.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    _Mur._         We are men, my liege.
    _Mac._ Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 1._
                            I am one, my liege,
    Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
    Have so incensed that I am reckless what
    I do to spite the world.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune,
    That I would set my life on any chance,
    To mend it, or be rid on 't.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 1._
              Things without all remedy
    Should be without regard; what 's done is done.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 2._
               Better be with the dead,
    Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,
    Than on the torture of the mind to lie
    In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave;
    After life's fitful fever he sleeps well:
    Treason has done his worst; nor steel, nor poison,
    Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
    Can touch him further.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    In them Nature's copy 's not eterne.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    A deed of dreadful note.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,
    Till thou applaud the deed.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Now spurs the lated traveller apace
    To gain the timely inn.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in
    To saucy doubts and fears.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Now, good digestion wait on appetite,
    And health on both!
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Thou canst not say I did it; never shake
    Thy gory locks at me.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    The air-drawn dagger.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                     The time has been,
    That when the brains were out the man would die,
    And there an end; but now they rise again,
    With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
    And push us from our stools.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    I drink to the general joy o' the whole table.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
    Which thou dost glare with!
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                A thing of custom,--'t is no other;
    Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                What man dare, I dare:
    Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
    The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger,
    Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
    Shall never tremble.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                  Hence, horrible shadow!
    Unreal mockery, hence!
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    You have displac'd the mirth, broke the good meeting,
    With most admir'd disorder.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                Can such things be,
    And overcome us like a summer's cloud,
    Without our special wonder?
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Stand not upon the order of your going,
    But go at once.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    _Macb._             What is the night?
    _L. Macb._ Almost at odds with morning, which is which.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                              I am in blood
    Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more,
    Returning were as tedious as go o'er.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                         My little spirit, see,
    Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.
_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 5._
    Double, double toil and trouble;
    Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Eye of newt and toe of frog,
    Wool of bat and tongue of dog.
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    By the pricking of my thumbs,
    Something wicked this way comes.
          Open, locks,
          Whoever knocks!
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    A deed without a name.
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 1._
          I 'll make assurance double sure,
    And take a bond of fate.
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
    Come like shadows, so depart!
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    I 'll charm the air to give a sound,
    While you perform your antic round.
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    The weird sisters.
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    The flighty purpose never is o'ertook,
    Unless the deed go with it.
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 1._
                   When our actions do not,
    Our fears do make us traitors.
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
    Uproar the universal peace, confound
    All unity on earth.
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    Stands Scotland where it did?
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak
    Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    What, all my pretty chickens and their dam
    At one fell swoop?
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    I cannot but remember such things were,
    That were most precious to me.
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    O, I could play the woman with mine eyes
    And braggart with my tongue.
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    The night is long that never finds the day.
_Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    Out, damned spot! out, I say!
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard?
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 1._
     Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood
     in him?
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 1._
     All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
    I cannot taint with fear.
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 3._
                      My way of life
    Is fall'n into the sere, the yellow leaf;
    And that which should accompany old age,
    As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
    I must not look to have; but in their stead
    Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
    Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 3._
    _Doct._            Not so sick, my lord,
    As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,
    That keep her from her rest.
    _Macb._                        Cure her of that.
    Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd,
    Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
    Raze out the written troubles of the brain,
    And with some sweet oblivious antidote
    Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
    Which weighs upon the heart?
    _Doct._                      Therein the patient
    Must minister to himself.
    _Macb._ Throw physic to the dogs: I 'll none of it.
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 3._
    I would applaud thee to the very echo,
    That should applaud again.
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 3._
    Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
    The cry is still, "They come!" our castle's strength
    Will laugh a siege to scorn.
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 5._
                            My fell of hair
    Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
    As life were in 't: I have supp'd full with horrors.
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 5._
    To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
    Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
    To the last syllable of recorded time,
    And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
    The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
    Life 's but a walking shadow, a poor player
    That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
    And then is heard no more: it is a tale
    Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
    Signifying nothing.
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 5._
    I pull in resolution, and begin
    To doubt the equivocation of the fiend
    That lies like truth: "Fear not, till Birnam wood
    Do come to Dunsinane."
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 5._
    I gin to be aweary of the sun.
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 5._
                   Blow, wind! come, wrack!
    At least we 'll die with harness on our back.
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 5._
    Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 6._
    I bear a charmed life.
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 8._
    And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd,
    That palter with us in a double sense:
    That keep the word of promise to our ear
    And break it to our hope.
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 8._
    Live to be the show and gaze o' the time.
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 8._
                      Lay on, Macduff,
    And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!"
_Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 8._
    For this relief much thanks: 't is bitter cold,
    And I am sick at heart.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 1._
    But in the gross and scope of my opinion,
    This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 1._
                             Whose sore task
    Does not divide the Sunday from the week.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 1._
                              This sweaty haste
    Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 1._
    In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
    A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
    The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
    Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 1._
    And then it started like a guilty thing
    Upon a fearful summons.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
    The extravagant and erring spirit hies
    To his confine.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 1._
    It faded on the crowing of the cock.
    Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
    Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
    The bird of dawning singeth all night long:
    And then, they say, no spirit dares stir[127-1] abroad;
    The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
    No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
    So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 1._
    So have I heard, and do in part believe it.
    But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
    Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 1._
    The memory be green.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    With an auspicious and a dropping eye,
    With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage,
    In equal scale weighing delight and dole.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    The head is not more native to the heart.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    A little more than kin, and less than kind.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
                 All that lives must die,
    Passing through nature to eternity.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not "seems."
    'T is not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
    Nor customary suits of solemn black.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    But I have that within which passeth show;
    These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
                     'T is a fault to Heaven,
    A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
    To reason most absurd.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    O, that this too too solid flesh would melt,
    Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
    Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
    His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
    How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable
    Seem to me all the uses of this world!
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    That it should come to this!
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother,
    That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
    Visit her face too roughly.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
                  Why, she would hang on him,
    As if increase of appetite had grown
    By what it fed on.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Frailty, thy name is woman!
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    A little month.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Like Niobe, all tears.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    A beast, that wants discourse of reason.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    My father's brother, but no more like my father
    Than I to Hercules.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    It is not nor it cannot come to good.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked meats
    Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
    Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
    Or ever I had seen that day.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    In my mind's eye, Horatio.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    He was a man, take him for all in all,
    I shall not look upon his like again.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Season your admiration for a while.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    In the dead vast and middle of the night.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Arm'd at point exactly, cap-a-pe.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    _Ham._ His beard was grizzled,--no?
    _Hor._ It was, as I have seen it in his life,
    A sable silver'd.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Let it be tenable in your silence still.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Gave it an understanding, but no tongue.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
                   Foul deeds will rise,
    Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2._
    A violet in the youth of primy nature,
    Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
    The perfume and suppliance of a minute.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 3._
    The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
    If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
    Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes:
    The canker galls the infants of the spring
    Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,
    And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
    Contagious blastments are most imminent.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
    Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
    Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
    Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
    And recks not his own rede.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Give thy thoughts no tongue.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
    Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
    Grapple them to thy soul with hoops[129-2] of steel.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 3._
                                 Beware
    Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,
    Bear 't that the opposed may beware of thee.
    Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;
    Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
    Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
    But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
    For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
    For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
    And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
    This above all: to thine own self be true,
    And it must follow, as the night the day,
    Thou canst not then be false to any man.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Springes to catch woodcocks.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 3._
    When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
    Lends the tongue vows.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 3._
    _Ham._ The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.
    _Hor._ It is a nipping and an eager air.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 4._
    But to my mind, though I am native here
    And to the manner born, it is a custom
    More honoured in the breach than the observance.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 4._
    Angels and ministers of grace, defend us!
    Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd,
    Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
    Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
    Thou comest in such a questionable shape
    That I will speak to thee: I 'll call thee Hamlet,
    King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me!
    Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell
    Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death,
    Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre,
    Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd,
    Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws
    To cast thee up again. What may this mean,
    That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel
    Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
    Making night hideous,[131-1] and we fools of nature
    So horridly to shake our disposition
    With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 4._
    I do not set my life at a pin's fee.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 4._
                     My fate cries out,
    And makes each petty artery in this body
    As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 4._
                     Unhand me, gentlemen.
    By heaven, I 'll make a ghost of him that lets me!
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 4._
    Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 4._
                   I am thy father's spirit,
    Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
    And for the day confin'd to fast in fires,
    Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
    Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid
    To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
    I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
    Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
    Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
    Thy knotted and combined locks to part
    And each particular hair to stand an end,
    Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:
    But this eternal blazon must not be
    To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
    That roots itself[131-4] in ease on Lethe wharf.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
                     O my prophetic soul!
    My uncle!
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air;
    Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard,
    My custom always of the afternoon.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
    Unhousell'd, disappointed, unaneled,
    No reckoning made, but sent to my account
    With all my imperfections on my head.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
                           Leave her to heaven
    And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
    To prick and sting her.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
    And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
                 While memory holds a seat
    In this distracted globe. Remember thee!
    Yea, from the table of my memory
    I 'll wipe away all trivial fond records.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    Within the book and volume of my brain.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
    My tables,--meet it is I set it down,
    That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain:
    At least I 'm sure it may be so in Denmark.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    _Ham._ There 's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark
    But he 's an arrant knave.
    _Hor._ There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
    To tell us this.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
        Every man has business and desire,
    Such as it is.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
               Art thou there, truepenny?
    Come on--you hear this fellow in the cellarage.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
    Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    Rest, rest, perturbed spirit!
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
    That ever I was born to set it right!
_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5._
    The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind,
    A savageness in unreclaimed blood.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    This is the very ecstasy of love.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Brevity is the soul of wit.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    More matter, with less art.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    That he is mad, 't is true: 't is true 't is pity;
    And pity 't is 't is true.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
            Find out the cause of this effect,
    Or rather say, the cause of this defect,
    For this effect defective comes by cause.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Doubt thou the stars are fire;
      Doubt that the sun doth move;
    Doubt truth to be a liar;
      But never doubt I love.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     To be honest as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of
     ten thousand.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Still harping on my daughter.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    _Pol._ What do you read, my lord?
    _Ham._ Words, words, words.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    They have a plentiful lack of wit.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    On fortune's cap we are not the very button.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    A dream itself is but a shadow.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory;
     this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
     o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden
     fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and
     pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man!
     how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving
     how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in
     apprehension how like a god!
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Man delights not me: no, nor woman neither.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     There is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could
     find it out.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    I know a hawk from a handsaw.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    One fair daughter and no more,
    The which he loved passing well.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Come, give us a taste of your quality.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     The play, I remember, pleased not the million; 't was caviare to
     the general.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     They are the abstract and brief chronicles of the time: after
     your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill
     report while you live.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     Use every man after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping?
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    What 's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
    That he should weep for her?
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                   Unpack my heart with words,
    And fall a-cursing, like a very drab.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
    With most miraculous organ.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                 The devil hath power
    To assume a pleasing shape.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Abuses me to damn me.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                      The play 's the thing
    Wherein I 'll catch the conscience of the king.
_Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                      With devotion's visage
    And pious action we do sugar o'er
    The devil himself.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
      To be, or not to be: that is the question:
    Whether 't is nobler in the mind to suffer
    The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
    Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
    And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep:
    No more; and by a sleep to say we end
    The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
    That flesh is heir to,--'t is a consummation
    Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
    To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there 's the rub:
    For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
    When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
    Must give us pause: there 's the respect
    That makes calamity of so long life;
    For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
    The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
    The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
    The insolence of office and the spurns
    That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
    When he himself might his quietus make
    With a bare bodkin? who would fardels[136-1] bear,
    To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
    But that the dread of something after death,
    The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
    No traveller returns, puzzles the will
    And makes us rather bear those ills we have
    Than fly to others that we know not of?
    Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
    And thus the native hue of resolution
    Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
    And enterprises of great pith and moment
    With this regard their currents turn awry,
    And lose the name of action.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
                   Nymph, in thy orisons
    Be all my sins remember'd.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    I am myself indifferent honest.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape
     calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, go.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given
     you one face, and you make yourselves another.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
    The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, sword.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
    The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
    The observed of all observers!
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
    Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
                                   O, woe is me,
    To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all
     gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the
     whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance
     that may give it smoothness. Oh, it offends me to the soul to
     hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters,
     to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who for the
     most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and
     noise. I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing
     Termagant; it out-herods Herod.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     Suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this
     special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    To hold, as 't were, the mirror up to nature.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     The very age and body of the time his form and pressure.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     Though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious
     grieve.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Not to speak it profanely.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men and not
     made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    _First Play._ We have reformed that indifferently with
    us, sir.
    _Ham._ O, reform it altogether.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
    As e'er my conversation coped withal.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
    And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
    Where thrift may follow fawning.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    A man that fortune's buffets and rewards
    Hast ta'en with equal thanks.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
      They are not a pipe for fortune's finger
    To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
    That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
    In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
    As I do thee.--Something too much of this.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    And my imaginations are as foul
    As Vulcan's stithy.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Here 's metal more attractive.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     Nay, then, let the devil wear black, for I 'll have a suit of
     sables.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     There 's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a
     year.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    For, O, for, O, the hobby-horse is forgot.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    This is miching mallecho; it means mischief.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    _Ham._ Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?
    _Oph._ 'T is brief, my lord.
    _Ham._ As woman's love.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Our wills and fates do so contrary run
    That our devices still are overthrown.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    The lady doth protest[138-1] too much, methinks.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    The story is extant, and writ in choice Italian.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Why, let the stricken deer go weep,
      The hart ungalled play;
    For some must watch, while some must sleep:
      So runs the world away.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    'T is as easy as lying.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    It will discourse most eloquent music.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Pluck out the heart of my mystery.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     _Ham._ Do you see yonder cloud that 's almost in shape of a
     camel?
     _Pol._ By the mass, and 't is like a camel, indeed.
     _Ham._ Methinks it is like a weasel.
     _Pol._ It is backed like a weasel.
     _Ham._ Or like a whale?
     _Pol._ Very like a whale.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    They fool me to the top of my bent.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    By and by is easily said.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    'T is now the very witching time of night,
    When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
    Contagion to this world.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
    It hath the primal eldest curse upon 't,
    A brother's murder.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 3._
           Like a man to double business bound,
    I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
    And both neglect.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                           'T is not so above;
    There is no shuffling, there the action lies
    In his true nature.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
    Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay!
    Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel,
    Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                       About some act
    That has no relish of salvation in 't.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
    Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Dead, for a ducat, dead!
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,
    If it be made of penetrable stuff.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                           Such an act
    That blurs the grace and blush of modesty.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    False as dicers' oaths.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    A rhapsody of words.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                                    What act
    That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Look here, upon this picture, and on this,
    The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
    See, what a grace was seated on this brow:
    Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
    An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
    A station like the herald Mercury
    New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill,
    A combination and a form indeed,
    Where every god did seem to set his seal,
    To give the world assurance of a man.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                             At your age
    The hey-day in the blood is tame, it 's humble.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellions hell,
    If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
    To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
    And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame
    When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
    Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
    And reason panders will.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
    That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
    And put it in his pocket!
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    A king of shreds and patches.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                      How is 't with you,
    That you do bend your eye on vacancy?
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    This is the very coinage of your brain:
    This bodiless creation ecstasy
    Is very cunning in.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                       Bring me to the test,
    And I the matter will re-word; which madness
    Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
    Lay not that flattering unction to your soul.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                Confess yourself to heaven;
    Repent what 's past; avoid what is to come.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
    That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,
    Of habits devil, is angel yet in this.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                        Refrain to-night,
    And that shall lend a kind of easiness
    To the next abstinence: the next more easy;
    For use almost can change the stamp of nature.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    I must be cruel, only to be kind:
    Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    For 't is the sport to have the enginer
    Hoist with his own petar.
_Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                 Diseases desperate grown
    By desperate appliance are relieved,
    Or not at all.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 3._
     A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of
     the fish that hath fed of that worm.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,
    Looking before and after, gave us not
    That capability and godlike reason
    To fust in us unused.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 4._
                      Rightly to be great
    Is not to stir without great argument,
    But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
    When honour 's at the stake.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
    It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 5._
    We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 5._
    To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
    All in the morning betime.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 5._
    Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 5._
    Come, my coach! Good night, sweet ladies; good night.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 5._
    When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
    But in battalions.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 5._
    There 's such divinity doth hedge a king,
    That treason can but peep to what it would.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 5._
    Nature is fine in love, and where 't is fine,
    It sends some precious instance of itself
    After the thing it loves.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 5._
     There 's rosemary, that 's for remembrance; . . . and there is
     pansies, that 's for thoughts.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 5._
     You must wear your rue with a difference. There 's a daisy; I
     would give you some violets, but they withered.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 5._
    His beard was as white as snow,
    All flaxen was his poll.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 5._
    A very riband in the cap of youth.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 7._
                        That we would do,
    We should do when we would.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 7._
    One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
    So fast they follow.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 7._
                 Nature her custom holds,
    Let shame say what it will.
_Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 7._
     _1 Clo._ Argal, he that is not guilty of his own death shortens
     not his own life.
     _2 Clo._ But is this law?
     _1 Clo._ Ay, marry, is 't; crowner's quest law.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
     There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
     Cudgel thy brains no more about it.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
     Has this fellow no feeling of his business?
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
     Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
     The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
     A politician, . . . one that would circumvent God.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
     Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his
     quiddities now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his
     tricks?
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
     One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she 's dead.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
     How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the card, or
     equivocation will undo us.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
     The age is grown so picked that the toe of the peasant comes so
     near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
     Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite
     jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a
     thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my
     gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
     not how oft. Where be your gibes now; your gambols, your songs?
     your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a
     roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? Quite chap-fallen?
     Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an
     inch thick, to this favour she must come.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
     To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination
     trace the noble dust of Alexander, till we find it stopping a
     bung-hole?
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
    'T were to consider too curiously, to consider so.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Imperious Cæsar, dead and turn'd to clay,
    Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
                   Lay her i' the earth:
    And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
    May violets spring!
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
    A ministering angel shall my sister be.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Sweets to the sweet: farewell!
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
    I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
    And not have strew'd thy grave.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
        Though I am not splenitive and rash,
    Yet have I something in me dangerous.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
                       Forty thousand brothers
    Could not, with all their quantity of love,
    Make up my sum.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
                      Nay, an thou 'lt mouth,
    I 'll rant as well as thou.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Let Hercules himself do what he may,
    The cat will mew and dog will have his day.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1._
    There 's a divinity that shapes our ends,
    Rough-hew them how we will.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
    I once did hold it, as our statists do,
    A baseness to write fair.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
    It did me yeoman's service.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
           The bravery of his grief did put me
    Into a towering passion.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
    What imports the nomination of this gentleman?
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
     The phrase would be more german to the matter, if we could carry
     cannon by our sides.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
    'T is the breathing time of day with me.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
     There 's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be
     now, 't is not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if
     it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all. Since no
     man has aught of what he leaves, what is 't to leave betimes?
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
       I have shot mine arrow o'er the house,
    And hurt my brother.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Now the king drinks to Hamlet.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
    A hit, a very palpable hit.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
                        This fell sergeant, death,
    Is strict in his arrest.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Report me and my cause aright.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
    I am more an antique Roman than a Dane.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Absent thee from felicity awhile.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
    The rest is silence.
_Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Although the last, not least.
_King Lear. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Nothing will come of nothing.
_King Lear. Act i. Sc. 1._
                     Mend your speech a little,
    Lest it may mar your fortunes.
_King Lear. Act i. Sc. 1._
          I want that glib and oily art,
    To speak and purpose not.
_King Lear. Act i. Sc. 1._
    A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue
    As I am glad I have not.
_King Lear. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides.
_King Lear. Act i. Sc. 1._
     As if we were villains by necessity; fools by heavenly
     compulsion.
_King Lear. Act i. Sc. 2._
     That which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in; and the
     best of me is diligence.
_King Lear. Act i. Sc. 4._
    Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend!
_King Lear. Act i. Sc. 4._
    How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
    To have a thankless child!
_King Lear. Act i. Sc. 4._
    Striving to better, oft we mar what 's well.
_King Lear. Act i. Sc. 4._
    Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow,
    Thy element 's below.
_King Lear. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Nature in you stands on the very verge
    Of her confine.
_King Lear. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Necessity's sharp pinch!
_King Lear. Act ii. Sc. 4._
      Let not women's weapons, water-drops,
    Stain my man's cheeks!
_King Lear. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     There was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 2._
                   Tremble, thou wretch,
    That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
    Unwhipp'd of justice.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 2._
                                I am a man
    More sinn'd against than sinning.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Oh, that way madness lies; let me shun that.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
    That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
    How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
    Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you
    From seasons such as these?
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                      Take physic, pomp;
    Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Out-paramoured the Turk.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    'T is a naughty night to swim in.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    The green mantle of the standing pool.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    But mice and rats, and such small deer,
    Have been Tom's food for seven long year.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    The prince of darkness is a gentleman.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Poor Tom 's a-cold.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    I 'll talk a word with this same learned Theban.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Child Rowland to the dark tower came,
    His word was still,--Fie, foh, and fum,
    I smell the blood of a British man.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                     The little dogs and all,
    Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 6._
    Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim,
    Hound or spaniel, brach or lym,
    Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 6._
    I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the course.
_King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 7._
    The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune.
_King Lear. Act iv. Sc. 1._
                      The worst is not
    So long as we can say, "This is the worst."
_King Lear. Act iv. Sc. 1._
                    Patience and sorrow strove
    Who should express her goodliest.
_King Lear. Act iv. Sc. 3._
                          Half way down
    Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade!
    Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:
    The fishermen that walk upon the beach
    Appear like mice.
_King Lear. Act iv. Sc. 6._
    Nature 's above art in that respect.
_King Lear. Act iv. Sc. 6._
    Ay, every inch a king.
_King Lear. Act iv. Sc. 6._
     Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my
     imagination.
_King Lear. Act iv. Sc. 6._
     A man may see how this world goes with no eyes. Look with thine
     ears: see how yond justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark, in
     thine ear: change places; and, handy-dandy, which is the justice,
     which is the thief?
_King Lear. Act iv. Sc. 6._
    Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;
    Robes and furr'd gowns hide all.
_King Lear. Act iv. Sc. 6._
                     Mine enemy's dog,
    Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
    Against my fire.
_King Lear. Act iv. Sc. 7._
    Pray you now, forget and forgive.
_King Lear. Act iv. Sc. 7._
    Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,
    The gods themselves throw incense.
_King Lear. Act v. Sc. 3._
    The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
    Make instruments to plague us.
_King Lear. Act v. Sc. 3._
                     Her voice was ever soft,
    Gentle, and low,--an excellent thing in woman.
_King Lear. Act v. Sc. 3._
    Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! he hates him much
    That would upon the rack of this tough world
    Stretch him out longer.
_King Lear. Act v. Sc. 3._
    That never set a squadron in the field,
    Nor the division of a battle knows.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 1._
    The bookish theoric.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 1._
                'T is the curse of service,
    Preferment goes by letter and affection,
    And not by old gradation, where each second
    Stood heir to the first.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 1._
    We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
    Cannot be truly follow'd.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Whip me such honest knaves.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 1._
      I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
    For daws to peck at.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 1._
     You are one of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid
     you.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 1._
    The wealthy curled darlings of our nation.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
    My very noble and approv'd good masters,
    That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
    It is most true; true, I have married her:
    The very head and front of my offending
    Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
    And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace:
    For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
    Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
    Their dearest action in the tented field,
    And little of this great world can I speak,
    More than pertains to feats of broil and battle,
    And therefore little shall I grace my cause
    In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,
    I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
    Of my whole course of love.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Her father loved me; oft invited me;
    Still question'd me the story of my life,
    From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,
    That I have passed.
    I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
    To the very moment that he bade me tell it:
    Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
    Of moving accidents by flood and field,
    Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach,
    Of being taken by the insolent foe
    And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence
    And portance in my travels' history;
    Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,
    Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven,
    It was my hint to speak,--such was the process;
    And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
    The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
    Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear
    Would Desdemona seriously incline.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 3._
    And often did beguile her of her tears,
    When I did speak of some distressful stroke
    That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
    She gave me for my pains a world of sighs;
    She swore, in faith, 't was strange, 't was passing strange.
    'T was pitiful, 't was wondrous pitiful;
    She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
    That Heaven had made her such a man; she thank'd me,
    And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
    I should but teach him how to tell my story,
    And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
    She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,
    And I loved her that she did pity them.
    This only is the witchcraft I have used.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 3._
    I do perceive here a divided duty.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 3._
    The robb'd that smiles, steals something from the thief.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 3._
    The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
    Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
    My thrice-driven bed of down.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 3._
    I saw Othello's visage in his mind.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Put money in thy purse.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 3._
     The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to
     him shortly as bitter as coloquintida.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Framed to make women false.
_Othello. Act i. Sc. 3._
    One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    For I am nothing, if not critical.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    I am not merry; but I do beguile
    The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    She that was ever fair and never proud,
    Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    She was a wight, if ever such wight were,
      _Des._ To do what?
      _Iago._ To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.
      _Des._ O most lame and impotent conclusion!
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 1._
     You may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    If after every tempest come such calms,
    May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Egregiously an ass.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Potations pottle-deep.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    King Stephen was a worthy peer,
      His breeches cost him but a crown;
    He held them sixpence all too dear,
      With that he called the tailor lown.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle
    From her propriety.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 3._
                   Your name is great
    In mouths of wisest censure.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 3._
                Cassio, I love thee;
    But never more be officer of mine.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    _Iago._ What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
    _Cas._ Ay, past all surgery.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 3._
     Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh, I have lost my
     reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what
     remains is bestial.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 3._
     O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known
     by, let us call thee devil!
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 3._
     O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away
     their brains!
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 3._
     _Cas._ Every inordinate cup is unbless'd, and the ingredient is a
     devil.
     _Iago._ Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it
     be well used.
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    How poor are they that have not patience!
_Othello. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,
    But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,
    Chaos is come again.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
            Speak to me as to thy thinkings,
    As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts
    The worst of words.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
    Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
    Who steals my purse steals trash; 't is something, nothing;
    'T was mine, 't is his, and has been slave to thousands;
    But he that filches from me my good name
    Robs me of that which not enriches him
    And makes me poor indeed.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                 O, beware, my lord, of jealousy!
    It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock
    The meat it feeds on.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er
    Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly[153-2] loves!
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Poor and content is rich and rich enough.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                    To be once in doubt
    Is once to be resolv'd.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                If I do prove her haggard,
    Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings,
    I 'ld whistle her off and let her down the wind,
    To prey at fortune.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                         I am declined
    Into the vale of years.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                 O curse of marriage,
    That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
    And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
    And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
    Than keep a corner in the thing I love
    For others' uses.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                  Trifles light as air
    Are to the jealous confirmations strong
    As proofs of holy writ.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                  Not poppy, nor mandragora,
    Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
    Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
    Which thou owedst yesterday.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    I swear 't is better to be much abused
    Than but to know 't a little.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen,
    Let him not know 't, and he 's not robb'd at all.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                      O, now, for ever
    Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!
    Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars
    That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!
    Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,
    The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
    The royal banner, and all quality,
    Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
    And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
    The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
    Farewell! Othello's occupation 's gone!
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                        No hinge nor loop
    To hang a doubt on.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    On horror's head horrors accumulate.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
               Take note, take note, O world,
    To be direct and honest is not safe.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    But this denoted a foregone conclusion.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                  Swell, bosom, with thy fraught,
    For 't is of aspics' tongues!
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                     Like to the Pontic sea,
    Whose icy current and compulsive course
    Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
    To the Propontic and the Hellespont,
    Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
    Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,
    Till that a capable and wide revenge
    Swallow them up.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.
_Othello. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    To beguile many, and be beguil'd by one.
_Othello. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    They laugh that win.
_Othello. Act iv. Sc. 1._
     But yet the pity of it, Iago! O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!
_Othello. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    I understand a fury in your words,
    But not the words.
_Othello. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips.
_Othello. Act iv. Sc. 2._
                     But, alas, to make me
    A fixed figure for the time of scorn
    To point his slow unmoving finger[155-2] at!
_Othello. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin.
_Othello. Act iv. Sc. 2._
                            O thou weed,
    Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet
    That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been born.
_Othello. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    O Heaven, that such companions thou 'ldst unfold,
    And put in every honest hand a whip
    To lash the rascals naked through the world!
_Othello. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    'T is neither here nor there.
_Othello. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    It makes us or it mars us.
_Othello. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Every way makes my gain.
_Othello. Act v. Sc. 1._
    He hath a daily beauty in his life.
_Othello. Act v. Sc. 1._
                         This is the night
    That either makes me or fordoes me quite.
_Othello. Act v. Sc. 1._
    And smooth as monumental alabaster.
_Othello. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Put out the light, and then put out the light:
    If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
    I can again thy former light restore
    Should I repent me; but once put out thy light,
    Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
    I know not where is that Promethean heat
    That can thy light relume.
_Othello. Act v. Sc. 2._
    So sweet was ne'er so fatal.
_Othello. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
    Had stomach for them all.
_Othello. Act v. Sc. 2._
    One entire and perfect chrysolite.
_Othello. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Curse his better angel from his side,
    And fall to reprobation.
_Othello. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Every puny whipster.
_Othello. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
    And he retires.
_Othello. Act v. Sc. 2._
    I have done the state some service, and they know 't.
    No more of that. I pray you, in your letters,
    When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
    Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
    Nor set down aught in malice. Then, must you speak
    Of one that loved not wisely but too well;
    Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought
    Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand,
    Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away
    Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes,
    Albeit unused to the melting mood,
    Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
    Their medicinal gum.
_Othello. Act v. Sc. 2._
    I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
    And smote him, thus.
_Othello. Act v. Sc. 2._
    There 's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act i. Sc. 1._
                             On the sudden
    A Roman thought hath struck him.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act i. Sc. 2._
    This grief is crowned with consolation.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Give me to drink mandragora.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act i. Sc. 5._
    Where 's my serpent of old Nile?
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act i. Sc. 5._
    A morsel for a monarch.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act i. Sc. 5._
                         My salad days,
    When I was green in judgment.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act i. Sc. 5._
                          Epicurean cooks
    Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Small to greater matters must give way.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,
    Burn'd on the water; the poop was beaten gold;
    Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
    The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver,
    Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
    The water which they beat to follow faster,
    As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
    It beggar'd all description.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
    Her infinite variety.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    I have not kept my square; but that to come
    Shall all be done by the rule.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act ii. Sc. 3._
                         'T was merry when
    You wager'd on your angling; when your diver
    Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he
    With fervency drew up.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act ii. Sc. 5._
    Come, thou monarch of the vine,
    Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne!
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act ii. Sc. 7._
    Who does i' the wars more than his captain can
    Becomes his captain's captain; and ambition,
    The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss,
    Than gain which darkens him.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act iii. Sc. 1._
                   He wears the rose
    Of youth upon him.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act iii. Sc. 13._
                         Men's judgments are
    A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward
    Do draw the inward quality after them,
    To suffer all alike.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act iii. Sc. 13._
    To business that we love we rise betime,
    And go to 't with delight.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    This morning, like the spirit of a youth
    That means to be of note, begins betimes.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    The shirt of Nessus is upon me.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act iv. Sc. 12._
    Sometime we see a cloud that 's dragonish;
    A vapour sometime like a bear or lion,
    A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock,
    A forked mountain, or blue promontory
    With trees upon 't.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act iv. Sc. 14._
    That which is now a horse, even with a thought
    The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct,
    As water is in water.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act iv. Sc. 14._
                         Since Cleopatra died,
    I have liv'd in such dishonour that the gods
    Detest my baseness.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act iv. Sc. 14._
    I am dying, Egypt, dying.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act iv. Sc. 15._
    O, wither'd is the garland of the war,
    The soldier's pole is fallen.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act iv. Sc. 15._
    Let 's do it after the high Roman fashion.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act iv. Sc. 15._
                         For his bounty,
    There was no winter in 't; an autumn 't was
    That grew the more by reaping.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act v. Sc. 2._
              If there be, or ever were, one such,
    It 's past the size of dreaming.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act v. Sc. 2._
                       Mechanic slaves
    With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act v. Sc. 2._
                              I have
    Immortal longings in me.
_Antony and Cleopatra. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Lest the bargain should catch cold and starve.
_Cymbeline. Act i. Sc. 4._
    Hath his bellyful of fighting.
_Cymbeline. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily.
_Cymbeline. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     The most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turned
     up ace.
_Cymbeline. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
      And Phoebus 'gins arise,
    His steeds to water at those springs
      On chaliced flowers that lies;
    And winking Mary-buds begin
      To ope their golden eyes:
    With everything that pretty is,
      My lady sweet, arise.
_Cymbeline. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    As chaste as unsunn'd snow.
_Cymbeline. Act ii. Sc. 5._
    Some griefs are medicinable.
_Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk.
_Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                           So slippery that
    The fear 's as bad as falling.
_Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    The game is up.
_Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                     No, 't is slander,
    Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue
    Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath
    Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie
    All corners of the world.
_Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                   Some jay of Italy,
    Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him:
    Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion.
_Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    It is no act of common passage, but
    A strain of rareness.
_Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    I have not slept one wink.
_Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                    Thou art all the comfort
    The gods will diet me with.
_Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 4._
                              Weariness
    Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth
    Finds the down pillow hard.
_Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 6._
                     An angel! or, if not,
    An earthly paragon!
_Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 6._
    Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys
    Is jollity for apes and grief for boys.
_Cymbeline. Act iv. Sc. 2._
                              And put
    My clouted brogues from off my feet.
_Cymbeline. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Golden lads and girls all must,
    As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
_Cymbeline. Act iv. Sc. 2._
                   O, never say hereafter
    But I am truest speaker. You call'd me brother
    When I was but your sister.
_Cymbeline. Act v. Sc. 5._
                       Like an arrow shot
    From a well-experienc'd archer hits the mark
    His eye doth level at.
_Pericles. Act i. Sc. 1._
     _3 Fish._ Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea.
     _1 Fish._ Why, as men do a-land: the great ones eat up the little
     ones.
_Pericles. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear.
_Venus and Adonis. Line 145._
    For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,
    And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again.
_Venus and Adonis. Line 1019._
    The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light.
_Venus and Adonis. Line 1027._
    For greatest scandal waits on greatest state.
_Lucrece. Line 1006._
    Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee
    Calls back the lovely April of her prime.
_Sonnet iii._
    And stretched metre of an antique song.
_Sonnet xvii._
    But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
_Sonnet xviii._
    The painful warrior famoused for fight,
    After a thousand victories, once foil'd,
    Is from the books of honour razed quite,
    And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd.
_Sonnet xxv._
    When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
    I summon up remembrance of things past,
    I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
    And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.
_Sonnet xxx._
    Full many a glorious morning have I seen.
_Sonnet xxxiii._
    My grief lies onward and my joy behind.
_Sonnet l._
    Like stones of worth, they thinly placed are,
    Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
_Sonnet lii._
    The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
    For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
_Sonnet liv._
    Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
    Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme.
_Sonnet lv._
    Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
    But sad mortality o'ersways their power,
    How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
    Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
_Sonnet lxv._
    And art made tongue-tied by authority.
_Sonnet lxvi._
    And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
    And captive good attending captain ill.
_Sonnet lxvi._
    The ornament of beauty is suspect,
    A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
_Sonnet lxx._
    That time of year thou may'st in me behold,
    When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
    Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
    Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
_Sonnet lxxiii._
    Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
    Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read,
    And tongues to be your being shall rehearse
    When all the breathers of this world are dead;
    You still shall live--such virtue hath my pen
    Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.
_Sonnet lxxxi._
    Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.
_Sonnet lxxxvii._
          Do not drop in for an after-loss.
    Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scap'd this sorrow,
    Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe;
    Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
    To linger out a purpos'd overthrow.
_Sonnet xc._
    When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim,
    Hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
_Sonnet xcviii._
    Still constant is a wondrous excellence.
_Sonnet cv._
    And beauty, making beautiful old rhyme.
_Sonnet cvi._
                     My nature is subdu'd
    To what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
_Sonnet cxi._
    Let me not to the marriage of true minds
    Admit impediments: love is not love
    Which alters when it alteration finds.
_Sonnet cxvi._
    'T is better to be vile than vile esteem'd,
    When not to be receives reproach of being;
    And the just pleasure lost which is so deem'd,
    Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing.
_Sonnet cxxi._
    No, I am that I am, and they that level
    At my abuses reckon up their own.
_Sonnet cxxi._
    That full star that ushers in the even.
_Sonnet cxxxii._
    So on the tip of his subduing tongue
    All kinds of arguments and questions deep,
    All replication prompt, and reason strong,
    For his advantage still did wake and sleep.
    To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep,
    He had the dialect and different skill,
    Catching all passion in his craft of will.
_A Lover's Complaint. Line 120._
    O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies
    In the small orb of one particular tear.
_A Lover's Complaint. Line 288._
    Bad in the best, though excellent in neither.
_The Passionate Pilgrim. iii._
    Crabbed age and youth
    Cannot live together.
_The Passionate Pilgrim. viii._
    Have you not heard it said full oft,
    A woman's nay doth stand for naught?
_The Passionate Pilgrim. xiv._
    Cursed be he that moves my bones.
_Shakespeare's Epitaph._
(An injury graves itself in metal, but a benefit writes itself in water.)
    JEAN BERTAUT. _Circa 1611._
FRANCIS BACON. 1561-1626.
(_Works: Spedding and Ellis_).
     I hold every man a debtor to his profession; from the which as
     men of course do seek to receive countenance and profit, so ought
     they of duty to endeavour themselves by way of amends to be a
     help and ornament thereunto.
_Maxims of the Law. Preface._
     Come home to men's business and bosoms.
_Dedication to the Essays, Edition 1625._
     No pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage-ground
     of truth.
_Of Truth._
     Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark; and as that
     natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the
     other.
_Of Death._
     Revenge is a kind of wild justice, which the more man's nature
     runs to, the more ought law to weed it out.
_Of Revenge._
     It was a high speech of Seneca (after the manner of the Stoics),
     that "The good things which belong to prosperity are to be
     wished, but the good things that belong to adversity are to be
     admired."
_Of Adversity._
     It is yet a higher speech of his than the other, "It is true
     greatness to have in one the frailty of a man and the security of
     a god."
_Of Adversity._
     Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament; adversity is the
     blessing of the New.
_Of Adversity._
     Prosperity is not without many fears and distastes; and adversity
     is not without comforts and hopes.
_Of Adversity._
     Virtue is like precious odours,--most fragrant when they are
     incensed or crushed.
_Of Adversity._
     He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune;
     for they are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue
     or mischief.
_Of Marriage and Single Life._
     Wives are young men's mistresses, companions for middle age, and
     old men's nurses.
_Of Marriage and Single Life._
     Men in great place are thrice servants,--servants of the
     sovereign or state, servants of fame, and servants of business.
_Of Great Place._
     Mahomet made the people believe that he would call a hill to him,
     and from the top of it offer up his prayers for the observers of
     his law. The people assembled. Mahomet called the hill to come to
     him, again and again; and when the hill stood still he was never
     a whit abashed, but said, "If the hill will not come to Mahomet,
     Mahomet will go to the hill."
_Of Boldness._
     The desire of power in excess caused the angels to fall; the
     desire of knowledge in excess caused man to fall.
_Of Goodness._
     The remedy is worse than the disease.
_Of Seditions._
     I had rather believe all the fables in the legends and the Talmud
     and the Alcoran, than that this universal frame is without a
     mind.
_Of Atheism._
     A little philosophy inclineth man's mind to atheism, but depth in
     philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion.
_Of Atheism._
     Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education; in the
     elder, a part of experience. He that travelleth into a country
     before he hath some entrance into the language, goeth to school,
     and not to travel.
_Of Travel._
     Princes are like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil
     times, and which have much veneration but no rest.
_Of Empire._
     In things that a man would not be seen in himself, it is a point
     of cunning to borrow the name of the world; as to say, "The world
     says," or "There is a speech abroad."
_Of Cunning._
     There is a cunning which we in England call "the turning of the
     cat in the pan;" which is, when that which a man says to another,
     he lays it as if another had said it to him.
_Of Cunning._
     It is a good point of cunning for a man to shape the answer he
     would have in his own words and propositions, for it makes the
     other party stick the less.
_Of Cunning._
     It hath been an opinion that the French are wiser than they seem,
     and the Spaniards seem wiser than they are; but howsoever it be
     between nations, certainly it is so between man and man.
_Of Seeming Wise._
     There is a wisdom in this beyond the rules of physic. A man's own
     observation, what he finds good of and what he finds hurt of, is
     the best physic to preserve health.
_Of Regimen of Health._
     Discretion of speech is more than eloquence; and to speak
     agreeably to him with whom we deal is more than to speak in good
     words or in good order.
_Of Discourse._
     Men's thoughts are much according to their inclination,
     their discourse and speeches according to their learning and
     infused opinions.
_Of Custom and Education._
     Chiefly the mould of a man's fortune is in his own hands.
_Of Fortune._
     If a man look sharply and attentively, he shall see Fortune; for
     though she is blind, she is not invisible.
_Of Fortune._
     Young men are fitter to invent than to judge, fitter for
     execution than for counsel, and fitter for new projects than for
     settled business.
_Of Youth and Age._
     Virtue is like a rich stone,--best plain set.
_Of Beauty._
     God Almighty first planted a garden.
_Of Gardens._
     And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air
     (where it comes and goes, like the warbling of music) than in the
     hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight than to know
     what be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air.
_Of Gardens._
     Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few
     to be chewed and digested.
_Of Studies._
     Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an
     exact man.
_Of Studies._
     Histories make men wise; poets, witty; the mathematics, subtile;
     natural philosophy, deep; moral, grave; logic and rhetoric, able
     to contend.
_Of Studies._
     The greatest vicissitude of things amongst men is the vicissitude
     of sects and religions.
_Of Vicissitude of Things._
     Books must follow sciences, and not sciences books.
_Proposition touching Amendment of Laws._
     Knowledge is power.--Nam et ipsa scientia potestas est.
_Meditationes Sacræ. De Hæresibus._
     Whence we see spiders, flies, or ants entombed and preserved
     forever in amber, a more than royal tomb.
_Historia Vitæ et Mortis; Sylva Sylvarum, Cent. i. Exper. 100._
     When you wander, as you often delight to do, you wander indeed,
     and give never such satisfaction as the curious time requires.
     This is not caused by any natural defect, but first for want of
     election, when you, having a large and fruitful mind, should not
     so much labour what to speak as to find what to leave unspoken.
     Rich soils are often to be weeded.
_Letter of Expostulation to Coke._
     "Antiquitas sæculi juventus mundi." These times are the ancient
     times, when the world is ancient, and not those which we account
     ancient _ordine retrogrado_, by a computation backward from
     ourselves.
_Advancement of Learning. Book i._ (_1605._)
     For the glory of the Creator and the relief of man's estate.
_Advancement of Learning. Book i._
     The sun, which passeth through pollutions and itself remains as
     pure as before.
_Advancement of Learning. Book ii._
     It [Poesy] was ever thought to have some participation of
     divineness, because it doth raise and erect the mind by
     submitting the shews of things to the desires of the mind.
_Advancement of Learning. Book ii._
     Sacred and inspired divinity, the sabaoth and port of all men's
     labours and peregrinations.
_Advancement of Learning. Book ii._
     Cleanness of body was ever deemed to proceed from a due reverence
     to God.
_Advancement of Learning. Book ii._
     States as great engines move slowly.
_Advancement of Learning. Book ii._
    The world 's a bubble, and the life of man
      Less than a span.
_The World._
    Who then to frail mortality shall trust
    But limns on water, or but writes in dust.
_The World._
    What then remains but that we still should cry
    For being born, and, being born, to die?
_The World._
     For my name and memory, I leave it to men's charitable speeches,
     to foreign nations, and to the next ages.
_From his Will._
     My Lord St. Albans said that Nature did never put her precious
     jewels into a garret four stories high, and therefore that
     exceeding tall men had ever very empty heads.
_Apothegms. No. 17._
     Like the strawberry wives, that laid two or three great
     strawberries at the mouth of their pot, and all the rest were
     little ones.
_Apothegms. No. 54._
     Sir Henry Wotton used to say that critics are like brushers of
     noblemen's clothes.
_Apothegms. No. 64._
     Sir Amice Pawlet, when he saw too much haste made in any matter,
     was wont to say, "Stay a while, that we may make an end the
     sooner."
_Apothegms. No. 76._
     Alonso of Aragon was wont to say in commendation of age, that age
     appears to be best in four things,--old wood best to burn, old
     wine to drink, old friends to trust, and old authors to
     read.
_Apothegms. No. 97._
     Pyrrhus, when his friends congratulated to him his victory over
     the Romans under Fabricius, but with great slaughter of his own
     side, said to them, "Yes; but if we have such another victory, we
     are undone."
_Apothegms. No. 193._
     Cosmus, Duke of Florence, was wont to say of perfidious friends,
     that "We read that we ought to forgive our enemies; but we do not
     read that we ought to forgive our friends."
_Apothegms. No. 206._
     Cato said the best way to keep good acts in memory was to refresh
     them with new.
_Apothegms. No. 247._
THOMAS MIDDLETON. ---- -1626.
    As the case stands.
_The Old Law. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    On his last legs.
_The Old Law. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Hold their noses to the grindstone.
_Blurt, Master-Constable. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    I smell a rat.
_Blurt, Master-Constable. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    A little too wise, they say, do ne'er live long.
_The Phoenix. Act i. Sc. 1._
    The better day, the better deed.
_The Phoenix. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    The worst comes to the worst.
_The Phoenix. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    'T is slight, not strength, that gives the greatest lift.
_Michaelmas Term. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    From thousands of our undone widows
    One may derive some wit.
_A Trick to catch the Old One. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Ground not upon dreams; you know they are ever contrary.
_The Family of Love. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    Spick and span new.
_The Family of Love. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    A flat case as plain as a pack-staff.
_The Family of Love. Act v. Sc. 3._
    Have you summoned your wits from wool-gathering?
_The Family of Love. Act v. Sc. 3._
    As true as I live.
_The Family of Love. Act v. Sc. 3._
    From the crown of our head to the sole of our foot.
_A Mad World, my Masters. Act i. Sc. 3._
                              That disease
    Of which all old men sicken,--avarice.
_The Roaring Girl. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Beat all your feathers as flat down as pancakes.
_The Roaring Girl. Act i. Sc. 1._
    There is no hate lost between us.
_The Witch. Act iv. Sc. 3._
                  Let the air strike our tune,
    Whilst we show reverence to yond peeping moon.
_The Witch. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Black spirits and white, red spirits and gray,
    Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may.
_The Witch. Act v. Sc. 2._
    All is not gold that glisteneth.
_A Fair Quarrel. Act v. Sc. 1._
     As old Chaucer was wont to say, that broad famous English poet.
_More Dissemblers besides Women. Act i. Sc. 4._
    'T is a stinger.
_More Dissemblers besides Women. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    The world 's a stage on which all parts are played.
_A Game at Chess. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Turn over a new leaf.
_Anything for a Quiet Life. Act iii. Sc. 3._
                    My nearest
    And dearest enemy.
_Anything for a Quiet Life. Act v. Sc. 1._
    This was a good week's labour.
_Anything for a Quiet Life. Act v. Sc. 3._
     How many honest words have suffered corruption since Chaucer's
     days!
_No Wit, no Help, like a Woman's. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    By many a happy accident.
_No Wit, no Help, like a Woman's. Act ii. Sc. 2._
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 1568-1639.
    How happy is he born or taught,
      That serveth not another's will;
    Whose armour is his honest thought,
      And simple truth his utmost skill!
_The Character of a Happy Life._
    Who God doth late and early pray
      More of his grace than gifts to lend;
    And entertains the harmless day
      With a religious book or friend.
_The Character of a Happy Life._
    Lord of himself, though not of lands;
    And having nothing, yet hath all.
_The Character of a Happy Life._
    You meaner beauties of the night,
      That poorly satisfy our eyes
    More by your number than your light;
      You common people of the skies,
      What are you when the moon[174-5] shall rise?
_On his Mistress, the Queen of Bohemia._
    He first deceased; she for a little tried
    To live without him, liked it not, and died.
_Upon the Death of Sir Albert Morton's Wife._
    I am but a gatherer and disposer of other men's stuff.
_Preface to the Elements of Architecture._
    Hanging was the worst use a man could be put to.
_The Disparity between Buckingham and Essex._
     An ambassador is an honest man sent to lie abroad for the
     commonwealth.
_Reliquiæ Wottonianæ._
    The itch of disputing will prove the scab of churches.
_A Panegyric to King Charles._
RICHARD BARNFIELD. ---- -1570.
    As it fell upon a day
    In the merry month of May,
    Sitting in a pleasant shade
    Which a grove of myrtles made.
_Address to the Nightingale._
SIR JOHN DAVIES. 1570-1626.
    Much like a subtle spider which doth sit
      In middle of her web, which spreadeth wide;
    If aught do touch the utmost thread of it,
      She feels it instantly on every side.
_The Immortality of the Soul._
    Wedlock, indeed, hath oft compared been
      To public feasts, where meet a public rout,
    Where they that are without would fain go in,
      And they that are within would fain go out.
_Contention betwixt a Wife, etc._
MARTYN PARKER. ---- -1630.
    Ye gentlemen of England
      That live at home at ease,
    Ah! little do you think upon
      The dangers of the seas.
_Song._
    When the stormy winds do blow.
_Song._
DR. JOHN DONNE. 1573-1631.
    He was the Word, that spake it:
    He took the bread and brake it;
    And what that Word did make it,
    I do believe and take it.
_Divine Poems. On the Sacrament._
                      We understood
    Her by her sight; her pure and eloquent blood
    Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought
    That one might almost say her body thought.
_Funeral Elegies. On the Death of Mistress Drury._
    She and comparisons are odious.
_Elegy 8. The Comparison._
    Who are a little wise the best fools be.
_The Triple Fool._
BEN JONSON.[177-4] 1573-1637.
    It was a mighty while ago.
_Every Man in his Humour. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Hang sorrow! care 'll kill a cat.
_Every Man in his Humour. Act i. Sc. 3._
    As he brews, so shall he drink.
_Every Man in his Humour. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Get money; still get money, boy,
    No matter by what means.
_Every Man in his Humour. Act ii. Sc. 3._
     Have paid scot and lot there any time this eighteen years.
_Every Man in his Humour. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    It must be done like lightning.
_Every Man in his Humour. Act iv. Sc. v._
    There shall be no love lost.
_Every Man out of his Humour. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Still to be neat, still to be drest,
    As you were going to a feast.
_Epicoene; Or, the Silent Woman. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Give me a look, give me a face,
    That makes simplicity a grace;
    Robes loosely flowing, hair as free,
    Such sweet neglect more taketh me
    Than all the adulteries of art:
    They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
_Epicoene; Or, the Silent Woman. Act i. Sc. 1._
    That old bald cheater, Time.
_The Poetaster. Act i. Sc. 1._
    The world knows only two,--that 's Rome and I.
_Sejanus. Act v. Sc. 1._
     Preserving the sweetness of proportion and expressing itself
     beyond expression.
_The Masque of Hymen._
    Courses even with the sun
    Doth her mighty brother run.
_The Gipsies Metamorphosed._
    Underneath this stone doth lie
    As much beauty as could die;
    Which in life did harbour give
    To more virtue than doth live.
_Epitaph on Elizabeth, L. H._
    Whilst that for which all virtue now is sold,
    And almost every vice,--almighty gold.
_Epistle to Elizabeth, Countess of Rutland._
    Drink to me only with thine eyes,
      And I will pledge with mine;
    Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
      And I 'll not look for wine.
_The Forest. To Celia._
                        Soul of the age,
    The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage,
    My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by
    Chaucer or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
    A little further, to make thee a room.
_To the Memory of Shakespeare._
    Marlowe's mighty line.
_To the Memory of Shakespeare._
    Small Latin, and less Greek.
_To the Memory of Shakespeare._
    He was not of an age, but for all time.
_To the Memory of Shakespeare._
    For a good poet 's made as well as born.
_To the Memory of Shakespeare._
    Sweet swan of Avon!
_To the Memory of Shakespeare._
    Underneath this sable hearse
    Lies the subject of all verse,
    Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother.
    Death, ere thou hast slain another,
    Learn'd and fair and good as she,
    Time shall throw a dart at thee.
_Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke._
    Let those that merely talk and never think,
    That live in the wild anarchy of drink.
_Underwoods. An Epistle, answering to One that asked to be sealed of the
Tribe of Ben._
    Still may syllabes jar with time,
    Still may reason war with rhyme,
                        Resting never!
_Underwoods. Fit of Rhyme against Rhyme._
    In small proportions we just beauties see,
    And in short measures life may perfect be.
_Underwoods. To the immortal Memory of Sir Lucius Cary and Sir Henry
Morison. III._
    What gentle ghost, besprent with April dew,
    Hails me so solemnly to yonder yew?
_Elegy on the Lady Jane Pawlet._
JOHN WEBSTER. ---- -1638.
    I know death hath ten thousand several doors
    For men to take their exit.
_Duchess of Malfi. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     'T is just like a summer bird-cage in a garden,--the birds that
     are without despair to get in, and the birds that are within
     despair and are in a consumption for fear they shall never get
     out.
_The White Devil. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Condemn you me for that the duke did love me?
    So may you blame some fair and crystal river
    For that some melancholic, distracted man
    Hath drown'd himself in 't.
_The White Devil. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright,
    But look'd too near have neither heat nor light.
_The White Devil. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren,
    Since o'er shady groves they hover,
    And with leaves and flowers do cover
    The friendless bodies of unburied men.
_The White Devil. Act. v. Sc. 2._
     Is not old wine wholesomest, old pippins toothsomest, old wood
     burns brightest, old linen wash whitest? Old soldiers,
     sweetheart, are surest, and old lovers are soundest.
_Westward Hoe. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    I saw him now going the way of all flesh.
_Westward Hoe. Act ii. Sc. 2._
THOMAS DEKKER. ---- -1641.
                            A wise man poor
    Is like a sacred book that 's never read,
    To himself he lives, and to all else seems dead.
    This age thinks better of a gilded fool
    Than of a threadbare saint in wisdom's school.
_Old Fortunatus._
    And though mine arm should conquer twenty worlds,
    There 's a lean fellow beats all conquerors.
_Old Fortunatus._
                        The best of men
    That e'er wore earth about him was a sufferer;
    A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit,
    The first true gentleman that ever breathed.
_The Honest Whore. Part i. Act i. Sc. 12._
    I was ne'er so thrummed since I was a gentleman.
_The Honest Whore. Part i. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    This principle is old, but true as fate,
    Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate.
_The Honest Whore. Part i. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    We are ne'er like angels till our passion dies.
_The Honest Whore. Part ii. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Turn over a new leaf.
_The Honest Whore. Part ii. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    To add to golden numbers golden numbers.
_Patient Grissell. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Honest labour bears a lovely face.
_Patient Grissell. Act i. Sc. 1._
BISHOP HALL. 1574-1656.
     Moderation is the silken string running through the pearl chain
     of all virtues.
_Christian Moderation. Introduction._
     Death borders upon our birth, and our cradle stands in the
     grave.
_Epistles. Dec. iii. Ep. 2._
     There is many a rich stone laid up in the bowels of the earth,
     many a fair pearl laid up in the bosom of the sea, that never was
     seen, nor never shall be.
_Contemplations. Book iv. The veil of Moses._
JOHN FLETCHER. 1576-1625.
    Man is his own star; and the soul that can
    Render an honest and a perfect man
    Commands all light, all influence, all fate.
    Nothing to him falls early, or too late.
    Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
    Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.
_Upon an "Honest Man's Fortune."_
                        All things that are
    Made for our general uses are at war,
    Even we among ourselves.
_Upon an "Honest Man's Fortune."_
    Man is his own star; and that soul that can
    Be honest is the only perfect man.
_Upon an "Honest Man's Fortune."_
    Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan,
    Sorrow calls no time that 's gone;
    Violets plucked, the sweetest rain
    Makes not fresh nor grow again.
_The Queen of Corinth. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    O woman, perfect woman! what distraction
    Was meant to mankind when thou wast made a devil!
_Monsieur Thomas. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Let us do or die.
_The Island Princess. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Hit the nail on the head.
_Love's Cure. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    I find the medicine worse than the malady.
_Love's Cure. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    He went away with a flea in 's ear.
_Love's Cure. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    There 's naught in this life sweet,
    If man were wise to see 't,
        But only melancholy;
        O sweetest Melancholy!
_The Nice Valour. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Fountain heads and pathless groves,
    Places which pale passion loves.
_The Nice Valour. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Drink to-day, and drown all sorrow;
    You shall perhaps not do 't to-morrow.
_The Bloody Brother. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    And he that will to bed go sober
    Falls with the leaf still in October.
_The Bloody Brother. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Three merry boys, and three merry boys,
      And three merry boys are we,
    As ever did sing in a hempen string
      Under the gallows-tree.
_The Bloody Brother. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow
      Which thy frozen bosom bears,
    On whose tops the pinks that grow
      Are of those that April wears!
    But first set my poor heart free,
    Bound in those icy chains by thee.
_The Bloody Brother. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Something given that way.
_The Lover's Progress. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Deeds, not words.
_The Lover's Progress. Act iii. Sc. 4._
ROBERT BURTON. 1576-1640.
     Naught so sweet as melancholy.
_Anatomy of Melancholy._[185-3] _The Author's Abstract._
     I would help others, out of a fellow-feeling.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     They lard their lean books with the fat of others' works.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     We can say nothing but what hath been said.[185-6] Our poets
     steal from Homer. . . . Our story-dressers do as much; he that
     comes last is commonly best.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     I say with Didacus Stella, a dwarf standing on the shoulders of a
     giant may see farther than a giant himself.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     It is most true, _stylus virum arguit_,--our style bewrays
     us.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     I had not time to lick it into form, as a bear doth her young
     ones.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     As that great captain, Ziska, would have a drum made of his skin
     when he was dead, because he thought the very noise of it would
     put his enemies to flight.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     Like the watermen that row one way and look another.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     Smile with an intent to do mischief, or cozen him whom he
     salutes.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     Him that makes shoes go barefoot himself.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     Rob Peter, and pay Paul.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     Penny wise, pound foolish.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     Women wear the breeches.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     Like Æsop's fox, when he had lost his tail, would have all his
     fellow foxes cut off theirs.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     Our wrangling lawyers . . . are so litigious and busy here on
     earth, that I think they will plead their clients' causes
     hereafter,--some of them in hell.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     Hannibal, as he had mighty virtues, so had he many vices; he had
     two distinct persons in him.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader._
     Carcasses bleed at the sight of the murderer.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 1, Memb. 2, Subsect. 5._
     Every man hath a good and a bad angel attending on him in
     particular, all his life long.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 1, Subsect. 2._
     [Witches] steal young children out of their cradles, _ministerio
     dæmonum_, and put deformed in their rooms, which we call
     changelings.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 1, Subsect. 3._
     Can build castles in the air.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 1, Subsect. 3._
     Joh. Mayor, in the first book of his "History of Scotland,"
     contends much for the wholesomeness of oaten bread; it was
     objected to him, then living at Paris, that his countrymen fed on
     oats and base grain. . . . And yet Wecker out of Galen calls it
     horse-meat, and fitter juments than men to feed on.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 2, Subsect. 1._
     Cookery is become an art, a noble science; cooks are gentlemen.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 2, Subsect. 2._
     As much valour is to be found in feasting as in fighting, and
     some of our city captains and carpet knights will make this good,
     and prove it.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 2, Subsect. 2._
     No rule is so general, which admits not some exception.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 2, Subsect. 3._
     Idleness is an appendix to nobility.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 2, Subsect. 6._
     Why doth one man's yawning make another yawn?
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 3, Subsect. 2._
     A nightingale dies for shame if another bird sings better.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 3, Subsect. 6._
     They do not live but linger.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 3, Subsect. 10._
     [Diseases] crucify the soul of man, attenuate our bodies, dry
     them, wither them, shrivel them up like old apples, make them so
     many anatomies.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 3, Subsect. 10._
     [Desire] is a perpetual rack, or horsemill, according to Austin,
     still going round as in a ring.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 3, Subsect. 11._
     [The rich] are indeed rather possessed by their money than
     possessors.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 3, Subsect. 12._
     Like a hog, or dog in the manger, he doth only keep it because it
     shall do nobody else good, hurting himself and others.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 3, Subsect. 12._
     Were it not that they are loath to lay out money on a rope, they
     would be hanged forthwith, and sometimes die to save charges.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 3, Subsect. 12._
     A mere madness, to live like a wretch and die rich.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 3, Subsect. 12._
     I may not here omit those two main plagues and common dotages of
     human kind, wine and women, which have infatuated and besotted
     myriads of people; they go commonly together.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 3, Subsect. 13._
     All our geese are swans.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 3, Subsect. 14._
     Though they [philosophers] write _contemptu gloriæ_, yet as
     Hieron observes, they will put their names to their books.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 3, Subsect. 14._
     They are proud in humility; proud in that they are not
     proud.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 3, Subsect. 14._
     We can make majors and officers every year, but not scholars;
     kings can invest knights and barons, as Sigismund the emperor
     confessed.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 3, Subsect. 15._
     _Hinc quam sic calamus sævior ense, patet._ The pen worse than
     the sword.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 4, Subsect. 4._
     Homer himself must beg if he want means, and as by report
     sometimes he did "go from door to door and sing ballads, with a
     company of boys about him."
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 4, Subsect. 6._
     See one promontory (said Socrates of old), one mountain, one sea,
     one river, and see all.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 4, Subsect. 7._
     Felix Plater notes of some young physicians, that study to cure
     diseases, catch them themselves, will be sick, and appropriate
     all symptoms they find related of others to their own persons.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 3, Memb. 1, Subsect. 2._
     Aristotle said melancholy men of all others are most witty.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 3, Memb. 1, Subsect. 3._
     Like him in Æsop, he whipped his horses withal, and put his
     shoulder to the wheel.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 1, Memb. 2._
     Fabricius finds certain spots and clouds in the sun.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 2, Memb. 3._
     Seneca thinks the gods are well pleased when they see great men
     contending with adversity.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 2, Memb. 1, Subsect. 1._
     Machiavel says virtue and riches seldom settle on one man.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 2, Memb. 2._
     Almost in every kingdom the most ancient families have been at
     first princes' bastards; their worthiest captains, best wits,
     greatest scholars, bravest spirits in all our annals, have been
     base [born].
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 2, Memb. 2._
     As he said in Machiavel, _omnes eodem patre nati_, Adam's sons,
     conceived all and born in sin, etc. "We are by nature all as one,
     all alike, if you see us naked; let us wear theirs and they our
     clothes, and what is the difference?"
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 2, Memb. 2._
     Set a beggar on horseback and he will ride a gallop.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 2, Memb. 2._
     Christ himself was poor. . . . And as he was himself, so he
     informed his apostles and disciples, they were all poor, prophets
     poor, apostles poor.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 2, Memb. 3._
     Who cannot give good counsel? 'T is cheap, it costs them nothing.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 2, Memb. 3._
     Many things happen between the cup and the lip.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 2, Memb. 3._
     What can't be cured must be endured.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 2, Memb. 3._
     Everything, saith Epictetus, hath two handles,--the one to be
     held by, the other not.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 2, Memb. 3._
     All places are distant from heaven alike.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 2, Memb. 4._
     The commonwealth of Venice in their armoury have this
     inscription: "Happy is that city which in time of peace thinks of
     war."
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 2, Memb. 6._
     "Let me not live," saith Aretine's Antonia, "if I had not rather
     hear thy discourse than see a play."
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 1, Memb. 1, Subsect. 1._
     Every schoolboy hath that famous testament of Grunnius Corocotta
     Porcellus at his fingers' end.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 1, Memb. 1, Subsect. 1._
     Birds of a feather will gather together.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 1, Memb. 1, Subsect. 2._
     And this is that Homer's golden chain, which reacheth down from
     heaven to earth, by which every creature is annexed, and depends
     on his Creator.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 1, Memb. 2, Subsect. 1._
     And hold one another's noses to the grindstone hard.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 1, Memb. 3._
     Every man for himself, his own ends, the Devil for all.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 1, Memb. 3._
     No cord nor cable can so forcibly draw, or hold so fast, as love
     can do with a twined thread.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 2, Memb. 1, Subsect. 2._
     To enlarge or illustrate this power and effect of love is to set
     a candle in the sun.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 2, Memb. 1, Subsect. 2._
     He is only fantastical that is not in fashion.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 2, Memb. 2, Subsect. 3._
     [Quoting Seneca] Cornelia kept her in talk till her children came
     from school, "and these," said she, "are my jewels."
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 2, Memb. 2, Subsect. 3._
     To these crocodile tears they will add sobs, fiery sighs, and
     sorrowful countenance.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 2, Memb. 2, Subsect. 4._
     Marriage and hanging go by destiny; matches are made in
     heaven.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 2, Memb. 2, Subsect. 5._
     Diogenes struck the father when the son swore.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 2, Memb. 2, Subsect. 5._
     Though it rain daggers with their points downward.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 2, Memb. 3._
     Going as if he trod upon eggs.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 2, Memb. 3._
     I light my candle from their torches.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 2, Memb. 5, Subsect. 1._
     England is a paradise for women and hell for horses; Italy a
     paradise for horses, hell for women, as the diverb goes.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 3, Memb. 1, Subsect. 2._
     The miller sees not all the water that goes by his mill.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 3, Memb. 4, Subsect. 1._
     As clear and as manifest as the nose in a man's face.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 3, Memb. 4, Subsect. 1._
     Make a virtue of necessity.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 3, Memb. 4, Subsect. 1._
     Where God hath a temple, the Devil will have a chapel.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 4, Memb. 1, Subsect. 1._
     If the world will be gulled, let it be gulled.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 4, Memb. 1, Subsect. 2._
     For "ignorance is the mother of devotion," as all the world
     knows.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 4, Memb. 1, Subsect. 2._
     The fear of some divine and supreme powers keeps men in
     obedience.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 4, Memb. 1, Subsect. 2._
     Out of too much learning become mad.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 4, Memb. 1, Subsect. 2._
     The Devil himself, which is the author of confusion and lies.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 4, Memb. 1, Subsect. 3._
     Isocrates adviseth Demonicus, when he came to a strange city, to
     worship by all means the gods of the place.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 4, Memb. 1, Subsect. 5._
     When they are at Rome, they do there as they see done.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 4, Memb. 2, Subsect. 1._
     One religion is as true as another.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 4, Memb. 2, Subsect. 1._
     They have cheveril consciences that will stretch.
_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 4, Memb. 2, Subsect. 3._
SIR THOMAS OVERBURY. 1581-1613.
                    In part to blame is she,
    Which hath without consent bin only tride:
    He comes to neere that comes to be denide.
_A Wife. St. 36._
PHILIP MASSINGER. 1584-1640.
    Some undone widow sits upon mine arm,
    And takes away the use of it;[194-1] and my sword,
    Glued to my scabbard with wronged orphans' tears,
    Will not be drawn.
_A New Way to pay Old Debts. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Death hath a thousand doors to let out life.
_A Very Woman. Act v. Sc. 4._
    This many-headed monster.
_The Roman Actor. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Grim death.
_The Roman Actor. Act iv. Sc. 2._
THOMAS HEYWOOD. ---- -1649.
    The world 's a theatre, the earth a stage
    Which God and Nature do with actors fill.
_Apology for Actors_ (1612).
    I hold he loves me best that calls me Tom.
_Hierarchie of the Blessed Angells._
    Seven cities warred for Homer being dead,
    Who living had no roofe to shrowd his head.
_Hierarchie of the Blessed Angells._
    Her that ruled the rost in the kitchen.
_History of Women_ (_ed. 1624_). _Page 286._
JOHN SELDEN. 1584-1654.
     Equity is a roguish thing. For Law we have a measure, know what
     to trust to; Equity is according to the conscience of him that
     is Chancellor, and as that is larger or narrower, so is Equity.
     'T is all one as if they should make the standard for the measure
     we call a "foot" a Chancellor's foot; what an uncertain measure
     would this be! One Chancellor has a long foot, another a short
     foot, a third an indifferent foot. 'T is the same thing in the
     Chancellor's conscience.
_Table Talk. Equity._
     Old friends are best. King James used to call for his old shoes;
     they were easiest for his feet.
_Table Talk. Friends._
     Humility is a virtue all preach, none practise; and yet everybody
     is content to hear.
_Table Talk. Humility._
     'T is not the drinking that is to be blamed, but the excess.
_Table Talk. Humility._
     Commonly we say a judgment falls upon a man for something in him
     we cannot abide.
_Table Talk. Judgments._
     Ignorance of the law excuses no man; not that all men know the
     law, but because 't is an excuse every man will plead, and no man
     can tell how to refute him.
_Table Talk. Law._
     No man is the wiser for his learning.
_Table Talk. Learning._
     Wit and wisdom are born with a man.
_Table Talk. Learning._
     Few men make themselves masters of the things they write or
     speak.
_Table Talk. Learning._
     Take a straw and throw it up into the air,--you may see by that
     which way the wind is.
_Table Talk. Libels._
     Philosophy is nothing but discretion.
_Table Talk. Philosophy._
     Marriage is a desperate thing.
_Table Talk. Marriage._
     Thou little thinkest what a little foolery governs the
     world.
_Table Talk. Pope._
    They that govern the most make the least noise.
_Table Talk. Power._
    Syllables govern the world.
_Table Talk. Power._
    Never king dropped out of the clouds.
_Table Talk. Power._
    Never tell your resolution beforehand.
_Table Talk. Wisdom._
    Wise men say nothing in dangerous times.
_Table Talk. Wisdom._
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 1585-1649.
    God never had a church but there, men say,
      The Devil a chapel hath raised by some wyles.
    I doubted of this saw, till on a day
      I westward spied great Edinburgh's Saint Gyles.
_Posthumous Poems._
FRANCIS BEAUMONT. 1586-1616.
               What things have we seen
    Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been
    So nimble and so full of subtile flame
    As if that every one from whence they came
    Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,
    And resolved to live a fool the rest
    Of his dull life.
_Letter to Ben Jonson._
    Here are sands, ignoble things,
    Dropt from the ruined sides of kings.
_On the Tombs of Westminster Abbey._
                    It is always good
    When a man has two irons in the fire.
_The Faithful Friends. Act i. Sc. 2._
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
(FRANCIS BEAUMONT and JOHN FLETCHER.)
                      All your better deeds
    Shall be in water writ, but this in marble.
_Philaster. Act v. Sc. 3._
    Upon my burned body lie lightly, gentle earth.
_The Maid's Tragedy. Act i. Sc. 2._
    A soul as white as heaven.
_The Maid's Tragedy. Act iv. Sc. 1._
                   But they that are above
    Have ends in everything.
_The Maid's Tragedy. Act v. Sc. 1._
    It shew'd discretion, the best part of valour.
_A King and No King. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    There is a method in man's wickedness,
    It grows up by degrees.
_A King and No King. Act v. Sc. 4._
    As cold as cucumbers.
_Cupid's Revenge. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Calamity is man's true touchstone.
_Four Plays in One: The Triumph of Honour. Sc. 1._
    Kiss till the cow comes home.
_Scornful Lady. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    It would talk,
    Lord! how it talked!
_Scornful Lady. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Beggars must be no choosers.
_Scornful Lady. Act v. Sc. 3._
    No better than you should be.
_The Coxcomb. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    From the crown of the head to the sole of the foot.
_The Honest Man's Fortune. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    One foot in the grave.
_The Little French Lawyer. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Go to grass.
_The Little French Lawyer. Act iv. Sc. 7._
    There is no jesting with edge tools.
_The Little French Lawyer. Act iv. Sc. 7._
    Though I say it that should not say it.
_Wit at Several Weapons. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    I name no parties.
_Wit at Several Weapons. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    Whistle, and she'll come to you.
_Wit Without Money. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    Let the world slide.
_Wit Without Money. Act v. Sc. 2._
    The fit 's upon me now!
    Come quickly, gentle lady;
    The fit 's upon me now.
_Wit Without Money. Act v. Sc. 4._
    He comes not in my books.
_The Widow. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Death hath so many doors to let out life.
_The Customs of the Country. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Of all the paths [that] lead to a woman's love
    Pity 's the straightest.
_The Knight of Malta. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Nothing can cover his high fame but heaven;
    No pyramids set off his memories,
    But the eternal substance of his greatness,
    To which I leave him.
_The False One. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Thou wilt scarce be a man before thy mother.
_Love's Cure. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    What 's one man's poison, signor,
    Is another's meat or drink.
_Love's Cure. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Primrose, first-born child of Ver,
    Merry springtime's harbinger.
_The Two Noble Kinsmen. Act i. Sc. 1._
    O great corrector of enormous times,
    Shaker of o'er-rank states, thou grand decider
    Of dusty and old titles, that healest with blood
    The earth when it is sick, and curest the world
    O' the pleurisy of people!
_The Two Noble Kinsmen. Act v. Sc. 1._
GEORGE WITHER. 1588-1667.
    Shall I, wasting in despair,
      Die because a woman's fair?
    Or make pale my cheeks with care,
      'Cause another's rosy are?
    Be she fairer than the day,
    Or the flowery meads in May,
      If she be not so to me,
      What care I how fair she be?
_The Shepherd's Resolution._
    Jack shall pipe and Gill shall dance.
_Poem on Christmas._
    Hang sorrow! care will kill a cat,
    And therefore let 's be merry.
_Poem on Christmas._
    Though I am young, I scorn to flit
    On the wings of borrowed wit.
_The Shepherd's Hunting._
    And I oft have heard defended,
    Little said is soonest mended.
_The Shepherd's Hunting._
    And he that gives us in these days
    New Lords may give us new laws.
_Contented Man's Morrice._
THOMAS HOBBES. 1588-1679.
     For words are wise men's counters,--they do but reckon by them;
     but they are the money of fools.
_The Leviathan. Part i. Chap. iv._
     No arts, no letters, no society, and which is worst of all,
     continual fear and danger of violent death, and the life of man
     solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.
_The Leviathan. Part i. Chap. xviii._
THOMAS CAREW. 1589-1639.
    He that loves a rosy cheek,
      Or a coral lip admires,
    Or from star-like eyes doth seek
      Fuel to maintain his fires,
    As old Time makes these decay,
    So his flames must waste away.
_Disdain Returned._
    Then fly betimes, for only they
    Conquer Love that run away.
_Conquest by Flight._
    An untimely grave.
_On the Duke of Buckingham._
    The magic of a face.
_Epitaph on the Lady S----._
WILLIAM BROWNE. 1590-1645.
    Whose life is a bubble, and in length a span.
_Britannia's Pastorals. Book i. Song 2._
    Did therewith bury in oblivion.
_Britannia's Pastorals. Book ii. Song 2._
    Well-languaged Daniel.
_Britannia's Pastorals. Book ii. Song 2._
ROBERT HERRICK. 1591-1674.
    Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,
    Full and fair ones,--come and buy!
    If so be you ask me where
    They do grow, I answer, there,
    Where my Julia's lips do smile,
    There 's the land, or cherry-isle.
_Cherry Ripe._
    Some asked me where the rubies grew,
      And nothing I did say;
    But with my finger pointed to
      The lips of Julia.
_The Rock of Rubies, and the Quarrie of Pearls._
    Some asked how pearls did grow, and where?
      Then spoke I to my girl
    To part her lips, and showed them there
      The quarelets of pearl.
_The Rock of Rubies, and the Quarrie of Pearls._
    A sweet disorder in the dress
    Kindles in clothes a wantonness.
_Delight in Disorder._
    A winning wave, deserving note,
    In the tempestuous petticoat;
    A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
    I see a wild civility,
    Do more bewitch me than when art
    Is too precise in every part.
_Delight in Disorder._
    You say to me-wards your affection 's strong;
    Pray love me little, so you love me long.
_Love me Little, Love me Long._
    Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
      Old Time is still a-flying,
    And this same flower that smiles to-day
      To-morrow will be dying.
_To the Virgins to make much of Time._
    Fall on me like a silent dew,
      Or like those maiden showers
    Which, by the peep of day, do strew
      A baptism o'er the flowers.
_To Music, to becalm his Fever._
    Fair daffadills, we weep to see
      You haste away so soon:
    As yet the early rising sun
      Has not attained his noon.
_To Daffadills._
    Thus woe succeeds a woe, as wave a wave.
_Sorrows Succeed._
    Her pretty feet, like snails, did creep
      A little out, and then,
    As if they played at bo-peep,
      Did soon draw in again.
_To Mistress Susanna Southwell._
    Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
    The shooting-stars attend thee;
      And the elves also,
      Whose little eyes glow
    Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
_The Night Piece to Julia._
    I saw a flie within a beade
      Of amber cleanly buried.
_The Amber Bead._
    Thus times do shift,--each thing his turn does hold;
    New things succeed, as former things grow old.
_Ceremonies for Candlemas Eve._
    Out-did the meat, out-did the frolick wine.
_Ode for Ben Jonson._
    Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt;
    Nothing 's so hard but search will find it out.
_Seek and Find._
    But ne'er the rose without the thorn.
_The Rose._
FRANCIS QUARLES. 1592-1644.
    Death aims with fouler spite
    At fairer marks.
_Divine Poems_ (_ed. 1669_).
    Sweet Phosphor, bring the day
    Whose conquering ray
    May chase these fogs;
      Sweet Phosphor, bring the day!
    Sweet Phosphor, bring the day!
    Light will repay
    The wrongs of night;
      Sweet Phosphor, bring the day!
_Emblems. Book i. Emblem 14._
    Be wisely worldly, be not worldly wise.
_Emblems. Book ii. Emblem 2._
    This house is to be let for life or years;
    Her rent is sorrow, and her income tears.
    Cupid, 't has long stood void; her bills make known,
    She must be dearly let, or let alone.
_Emblems. Book ii. Emblem 10, Ep. 10._
    The slender debt to Nature 's quickly paid,
    Discharged, perchance, with greater ease than made.
_Emblems. Book ii. Emblem 13._
    The next way home 's the farthest way about.
_Emblems. Book iv. Emblem 2, Ep. 2._
    It is the lot of man but once to die.
_Emblems. Book v. Emblem 7._
GEORGE HERBERT. 1593-1632.
    To write a verse or two is all the praise
             That I can raise.
_Praise._
    Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
    The bridal of the earth and sky.
_Virtue._
    Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
    A box where sweets compacted lie.
_Virtue._
    Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
    Like seasoned timber, never gives.
_Virtue._
                     Like summer friends,
    Flies of estate and sunneshine.
_The Answer._
    A servant with this clause
      Makes drudgery divine;
    Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws
      Makes that and th' action fine.
_The Elixir._
    A verse may find him who a sermon flies,
    And turn delight into a sacrifice.
_The Church Porch._
    Dare to be true: nothing can need a lie;
    A fault which needs it most, grows two thereby.
_The Church Porch._
    Chase brave employment with a naked sword
    Throughout the world.
_The Church Porch._
    Sundays observe; think when the bells do chime,
    'T is angels' music.
_The Church Porch._
    The worst speak something good; if all want sense,
    God takes a text, and preacheth Pa-ti-ence.
_The Church Porch._
    Bibles laid open, millions of surprises.
_Sin._
    Religion stands on tiptoe in our land,
    Ready to pass to the American strand.
_The Church Militant._
               Man is one world, and hath
    Another to attend him.
_Man._
    If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
      May toss him to my breast.
_The Pulley._
    The fineness which a hymn or psalm affords
    If when the soul unto the lines accords.
_A True Hymn._
    Wouldst thou both eat thy cake and have it?
_The Size._
    Do well and right, and let the world sink.
_Country Parson. Chap. xxix._
    His bark is worse than his bite.
_Jacula Prudentum._
    After death the doctor.
_Jacula Prudentum._
    Hell is full of good meanings and wishings.
_Jacula Prudentum._
     No sooner is a temple built to God, but the Devil builds a chapel
     hard by.
_Jacula Prudentum._
    God's mill grinds slow, but sure.
_Jacula Prudentum._
    The offender never pardons.
_Jacula Prudentum._
    It is a poor sport that is not worth the candle.
_Jacula Prudentum._
    To a close-shorn sheep God gives wind by measure.
_Jacula Prudentum._
    The lion is not so fierce as they paint him.
_Jacula Prudentum._
    Help thyself, and God will help thee.
_Jacula Prudentum._
    Words are women, deeds are men.
_Jacula Prudentum._
    The mouse that hath but one hole is quickly taken.
_Jacula Prudentum._
    A dwarf on a giant's shoulders sees farther of the two.
_Jacula Prudentum._
IZAAK WALTON. 1593-1683.
     Of which, if thou be a severe, sour-complexioned man, then I here
     disallow thee to be a competent judge.
_The Complete Angler. Author's Preface._
     Angling may be said to be so like the mathematics that it can
     never be fully learnt.
_The Complete Angler. Author's Preface._
     As no man is born an artist, so no man is born an angler.
_The Complete Angler. Author's Preface._
     I shall stay him no longer than to wish him a rainy evening to
     read this following discourse; and that if he be an honest
     angler, the east wind may never blow when he goes a fishing.
_The Complete Angler. Author's Preface._
     As the Italians say, Good company in a journey makes the way to
     seem the shorter.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. 1._
     I am, sir, a Brother of the Angle.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. 1._
     It [angling] deserves commendations; . . . it is an art worthy
     the knowledge and practice of a wise man.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. 1._
     Angling is somewhat like poetry,--men are to be born so.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. 1._
     Doubt not but angling will prove to be so pleasant that it will
     prove to be, like virtue, a reward to itself.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. 1._
     Sir Henry Wotton was a most dear lover and a frequent practiser
     of the Art of Angling; of which he would say, "'T was an
     employment for his idle time, which was then not idly spent, a
     rest to his mind, a cheerer of his spirits, a diverter of
     sadness, a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a moderator of passions, a
     procurer of contentedness;" and "that it begat habits of peace
     and patience in those that professed and practised it."
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. 1._
     You will find angling to be like the virtue of humility, which
     has a calmness of spirit and a world of other blessings attending
     upon it.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. 1._
     I remember that a wise friend of mine did usually say, "That
     which is everybody's business is nobody's business."
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. ii._
     Good company and good discourse are the very sinews of virtue.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. ii._
     An excellent angler, and now with God.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. iv._
     Old-fashioned poetry, but choicely good.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. iv._
     No man can lose what he never had.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. v._
     We may say of angling as Dr. Boteler[208-1] said of strawberries:
     "Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God
     never did;" and so, if I might be judge, God never did make a
     more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. v._
     Thus use your frog: put your hook--I mean the arming
     wire--through his mouth and out at his gills, and then with a
     fine needle and silk sew the upper part of his leg with only one
     stitch to the arming wire of your hook, or tie the frog's leg
     above the upper joint to the armed wire; and in so doing use him
     as though you loved him.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. 8._
     This dish of meat is too good for any but anglers, or very honest
     men.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. 8._
     Health is the second blessing that we mortals are capable of,--a
     blessing that money cannot buy.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. 21._
     And upon all that are lovers of virtue, and dare trust in his
     Providence, and be quiet and go a-angling.
_The Complete Angler. Part i. Chap. 21._
     But God, who is able to prevail, wrestled with him; marked him
     for his own.
_Life of Donne._
     The great secretary of Nature,--Sir Francis Bacon.
_Life of Herbert._
    Oh, the gallant fisher's life!
      It is the best of any;
    'T is full of pleasure, void of strife,
      And 't is beloved by many.
_The Angler._ (John Chalkhill.)
JAMES SHIRLEY. 1596-1666.
    The glories of our blood and state
      Are shadows, not substantial things;
    There is no armour against fate;
      Death lays his icy hands on kings.
_Contention of Ajax and Ulysses. Sc. 3._
    Only the actions of the just
    Smell sweet and blossom in the dust.
_Contention of Ajax and Ulysses. Sc. 3._
    Death calls ye to the crowd of common men.
_Cupid and Death._
SAMUEL BUTLER. 1600-1680.
    And pulpit, drum ecclesiastick,
    Was beat with fist instead of a stick.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 11._
    We grant, although he had much wit,
    He was very shy of using it.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 45._
    Beside, 't is known he could speak Greek
    As naturally as pigs squeak;
    That Latin was no more difficile
    Than to a blackbird 't is to whistle.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 51._
    He could distinguish and divide
    A hair 'twixt south and southwest side.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 67._
    For rhetoric, he could not ope
    His mouth, but out there flew a trope.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 81._
    For all a rhetorician's rules
    Teach nothing but to name his tools.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 89._
    A Babylonish dialect
    Which learned pedants much affect.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 93._
    For he by geometric scale
    Could take the size of pots of ale.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 121._
    And wisely tell what hour o' the day
    The clock does strike, by algebra.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 125._
    Whatever sceptic could inquire for,
    For every why he had a wherefore.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 131._
    Where entity and quiddity,
    The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 145._
    He knew what 's what,[210-3] and that 's as high
    As metaphysic wit can fly.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 149._
    Such as take lodgings in a head
    That 's to be let unfurnished.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 161._
    'T was Presbyterian true blue.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 191._
    And prove their doctrine orthodox,
    By apostolic blows and knocks.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 199._
    As if religion was intended
    For nothing else but to be mended.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 205._
    Compound for sins they are inclined to,
    By damning those they have no mind to.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 215._
    The trenchant blade, Toledo trusty,
    For want of fighting was grown rusty,
    And ate into itself, for lack
    Of somebody to hew and hack.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 359._
    For rhyme the rudder is of verses,
    With which, like ships, they steer their courses.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 463._
    He ne'er consider'd it, as loth
    To look a gift-horse in the mouth.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 490._
    And force them, though it was in spite
    Of Nature and their stars, to write.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 647._
    Quoth Hudibras, "I smell a rat!
    Ralpho, thou dost prevaricate."
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 821._
    Or shear swine, all cry and no wool.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 852._
    And bid the devil take the hin'most.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto ii. Line 633._
    With many a stiff thwack, many a bang,
    Hard crab-tree and old iron rang.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto ii. Line 831._
    Like feather bed betwixt a wall
    And heavy brunt of cannon ball.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto ii. Line 872._
    Ay me! what perils do environ
    The man that meddles with cold iron!
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 1._
        Who thought he 'd won
    The field as certain as a gun.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 11._
    Nor do I know what is become
    Of him, more than the Pope of Rome.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 263._
                    I 'll make the fur
    Fly 'bout the ears of the old cur.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 277._
                   He had got a hurt
    O' the inside, of a deadlier sort.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 309._
    These reasons made his mouth to water.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 379._
    While the honour thou hast got
    Is spick and span new.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 398._
    With mortal crisis doth portend
    My days to appropinque an end.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 589._
    For those that run away and fly,
    Take place at least o' the enemy.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 609._
    I am not now in fortune's power:
    He that is down can fall no lower.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 877._
    Cheer'd up himself with ends of verse
    And sayings of philosophers.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 1011._
    If he that in the field is slain
    Be in the bed of honour lain,
    He that is beaten may be said
    To lie in honour's truckle-bed.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 1047._
    When pious frauds and holy shifts
    Are dispensations and gifts.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 1145._
               Friend Ralph, thou hast
    Outrun the constable[212-3] at last.
_Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 1367._
    Some force whole regions, in despite
    O' geography, to change their site;
    Make former times shake hands with latter,
    And that which was before come after.
    But those that write in rhyme still make
    The one verse for the other's sake;
    For one for sense, and one for rhyme,
    I think 's sufficient at one time.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto i. Line 23._
    Some have been beaten till they know
    What wood a cudgel 's of by th' blow;
    Some kick'd until they can feel whether
    A shoe be Spanish or neat's leather.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto i. Line 221._
    No Indian prince has to his palace
    More followers than a thief to the gallows.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto i. Line 273._
    Quoth she, I 've heard old cunning stagers
    Say fools for arguments use wagers.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto i. Line 297._
    Love in your hearts as idly burns
    As fire in antique Roman urns.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto i. Line 309._
    For what is worth in anything
    But so much money as 't will bring?
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto i. Line 465._
    Love is a boy by poets styl'd;
    Then spare the rod and spoil the child.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto i. Line 843._
    The sun had long since in the lap
    Of Thetis taken out his nap,
    And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn
    From black to red began to turn.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto ii. Line 29._
    Have always been at daggers-drawing,
    And one another clapper-clawing.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto ii. Line 79._
    For truth is precious and divine,
    Too rich a pearl for carnal swine.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto ii. Line 257._
    Why should not conscience have vacation
    As well as other courts o' th' nation?
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto ii. Line 317._
    He that imposes an oath makes it,
    Not he that for convenience takes it;
    Then how can any man be said
    To break an oath he never made?
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto ii. Line 377._
                      As the ancients
    Say wisely, have a care o' th' main chance,
    And look before you ere you leap;
    For as you sow, ye are like to reap.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto ii. Line 501._
    Doubtless the pleasure is as great
    Of being cheated as to cheat.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto iii. Line 1._
    He made an instrument to know
    If the moon shine at full or no.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto iii. Line 261._
    Each window like a pill'ry appears,
    With heads thrust thro' nail'd by the ears.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto iii. Line 391._
    To swallow gudgeons ere they 're catch'd,
    And count their chickens ere they 're hatch'd.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto iii. Line 923._
    There 's but the twinkling of a star
    Between a man of peace and war.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto iii. Line 957._
    But Hudibras gave him a twitch
    As quick as lightning in the breech,
    Just in the place where honour 's lodg'd,
    As wise philosophers have judg'd;
    Because a kick in that part more
    Hurts honour than deep wounds before.
_Hudibras. Part ii. Canto iii. Line 1065._
    As men of inward light are wont
    To turn their optics in upon 't.
_Hudibras. Part iii. Canto i. Line 481._
    Still amorous and fond and billing,
    Like Philip and Mary on a shilling.
_Hudibras. Part iii. Canto i. Line 687._
    What makes all doctrines plain and clear?
    About two hundred pounds a year.
    And that which was prov'd true before
    Prove false again? Two hundred more.
_Hudibras. Part iii. Canto i. Line 1277._
    'Cause grace and virtue are within
    Prohibited degrees of kin;
    And therefore no true saint allows
    They shall be suffer'd to espouse.
_Hudibras. Part iii. Canto i. Line 1293._
    Nick Machiavel had ne'er a trick,
    Though he gave his name to our Old Nick.
_Hudibras. Part iii. Canto i. Line 1313._
    With crosses, relics, crucifixes,
    Beads, pictures, rosaries, and pixes,
    The tools of working our salvation
    By mere mechanic operation.
_Hudibras. Part iii. Canto i. Line 1495._
    True as the dial to the sun,
    Although it be not shin'd upon.
_Hudibras. Part iii. Canto ii. Line 175._
    But still his tongue ran on, the less
    Of weight it bore, with greater ease.
_Hudibras. Part iii. Canto ii. Line 443._
    For those that fly may fight again,
    Which he can never do that 's slain.
_Hudibras. Part iii. Canto iii. Line 243._
    He that complies against his will
    Is of his own opinion still.
_Hudibras. Part iii. Canto iii. Line 547._
    With books and money plac'd for show
    Like nest-eggs to make clients lay,
    And for his false opinion pay.
_Hudibras. Part iii. Canto iii. Line 624._
    And poets by their sufferings grow,
    As if there were no more to do,
    To make a poet excellent,
    But only want and discontent.
_Fragments._
SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT. 1605-1668.
    The assembled souls of all that men held wise.
_Gondibert. Book ii. Canto v. Stanza 37._
    Since knowledge is but sorrow's spy,
    It is not safe to know.
_The Just Italian. Act v. Sc. 1._
    For angling-rod he took a sturdy oake;
    For line, a cable that in storm ne'er broke;
    His hooke was such as heads the end of pole
    To pluck down house ere fire consumes it whole;
    The hook was baited with a dragon's tale,
    And then on rock he stood to bob for whale.
_Britannia Triumphans. Page 15. 1637._
SIR THOMAS BROWNE. 1605-1682.
     Too rashly charged the troops of error, and remain as trophies
     unto the enemies of truth.
_Religio Medici. Part i. Sect. vi._
     Rich with the spoils of Nature.
_Religio Medici. Part i. Sect. xiii._
     Nature is the art of God.
_Religio Medici. Part i. Sect. xvi._
     The thousand doors that lead to death.
_Religio Medici. Part i. Sect. xliv._
     The heart of man is the place the Devil 's in: I feel sometimes a
     hell within myself.
_Religio Medici. Part i. Sect. li._
     There is no road or ready way to virtue.
_Religio Medici. Part i. Sect. lv._
     It is the common wonder of all men, how among so many million of
     faces there should be none alike.
_Religio Medici. Part ii. Sect. ii._
     There is music in the beauty, and the silent note which Cupid
     strikes, far sweeter than the sound of an instrument; for there
     is music wherever there is harmony, order, or proportion; and
     thus far we may maintain the music of the spheres.
_Religio Medici. Part ii. Sect. ix._
    Sleep is a death; oh, make me try
    By sleeping what it is to die,
    And as gently lay my head
    On my grave as now my bed!
_Religio Medici. Part ii. Sect. xii._
     Ruat coelum, fiat voluntas tua.
_Religio Medici. Part ii. Sect. xii._
     Times before you, when even living men were antiquities,--when
     the living might exceed the dead, and to depart this world could
     not be properly said to go unto the greater number.
_Dedication to Urn-Burial._
     I look upon you as gem of the old rock.
_Dedication to Urn-Burial._
     Man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes and pompous in the
     grave.
_Dedication to Urn-Burial. Chap. v._
     Quietly rested under the drums and tramplings of three conquests.
_Dedication to Urn-Burial. Chap. v._
     Herostratus lives that burnt the temple of Diana; he is almost
     lost that built it.
_Dedication to Urn-Burial. Chap. v._
     What song the Sirens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he
     hid himself among women.
_Dedication to Urn-Burial. Chap. v._
     When we desire to confine our words, we commonly say they are
     spoken under the rose.
_Vulgar Errors._
EDMUND WALLER. 1605-1687.
    The yielding marble of her snowy breast.
_On a Lady passing through a Crowd of People._
    That eagle's fate and mine are one,
      Which on the shaft that made him die
    Espied a feather of his own,
      Wherewith he wont to soar so high.
_To a Lady singing a Song of his Composing._
    A narrow compass! and yet there
    Dwelt all that 's good, and all that 's fair;
    Give me but what this riband bound,
    Take all the rest the sun goes round.
_On a Girdle._
               For all we know
    Of what the blessed do above
    Is, that they sing, and that they love.
_While I listen to thy Voice._
    Poets that lasting marble seek
    Must come in Latin or in Greek.
_Of English Verse._
    Under the tropic is our language spoke,
    And part of Flanders hath receiv'd our yoke.
_Upon the Death of the Lord Protector._
           Go, lovely rose!
    Tell her that wastes her time and me
           That now she knows,
    When I resemble her to thee,
    How sweet and fair she seems to be.
_Go, Lovely Rose._
    How small a part of time they share
    That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
_Go, Lovely Rose._
    Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse,
    And every conqueror creates a muse.
_Panegyric on Cromwell._
    In such green palaces the first kings reign'd,
    Slept in their shades, and angels entertain'd;
    With such old counsellors they did advise,
    And by frequenting sacred groves grew wise.
_On St. James's Park._
    And keeps the palace of the soul.
_Of Tea._
    Poets lose half the praise they should have got,
    Could it be known what they discreetly blot.
_Upon Roscommon's Translation of Horace, De Arte Poetica._
    Could we forbear dispute and practise love,
    We should agree as angels do above.
_Divine Love. Canto iii._
    The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd,
    Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made.
    Stronger by weakness, wiser men become
    As they draw near to their eternal home:
    Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view
    That stand upon the threshold of the new.
_On the Divine Poems._
THOMAS FULLER. 1608-1661.
     Drawing near her death, she sent most pious thoughts as
     harbingers to heaven; and her soul saw a glimpse of happiness
     through the chinks of her sickness-broken body.
_Life of Monica._
     He was one of a lean body and visage, as if his eager soul,
     biting for anger at the clog of his body, desired to fret a
     passage through it.
_Life of the Duke of Alva._
     She commandeth her husband, in any equal matter, by constant
     obeying him.
_Holy and Profane State. The Good Wife._
     He knows little who will tell his wife all he knows.
_Holy and Profane State. The Good Husband._
     One that will not plead that cause wherein his tongue must be
     confuted by his conscience.
_Holy and Profane State. The Good Advocate._
     A little skill in antiquity inclines a man to Popery; but depth
     in that study brings him about again to our religion.
_Holy and Profane State. The True Church Antiquary._
     But our captain counts the image of God--nevertheless his
     image--cut in ebony as if done in ivory, and in the blackest
     Moors he sees the representation of the King of Heaven.
_Holy and Profane State. The Good Sea-Captain._
     To smell to a turf of fresh earth is wholesome for the body; no
     less are thoughts of mortality cordial to the soul.
_Holy and Profane State. The Virtuous Lady._
     The lion is not so fierce as painted.
_Holy and Profane State. Of Preferment._
     Their heads sometimes so little that there is no room for wit;
     sometimes so long that there is no wit for so much room.
_Holy and Profane State. Of Natural Fools._
     The Pyramids themselves, doting with age, have forgotten the
     names of their founders.
_Holy and Profane State. Of Tombs._
     Learning hath gained most by those books by which the printers
     have lost.
_Holy and Profane State. Of Books._
     They that marry ancient people, merely in expectation to bury
     them, hang themselves in hope that one will come and cut the
     halter.
_Holy and Profane State. Of Marriage._
     Fame sometimes hath created something of nothing.
_Holy and Profane State. Fame._
     Often the cockloft is empty in those whom Nature hath built many
     stories high.
_Andronicus. Sect. vi. Par. 18, 1._
JOHN MILTON. 1608-1674.
    Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit
    Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
    Brought death into the world, and all our woe.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 1._
                            Or if Sion hill
    Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook, that flow'd
    Fast by the oracle of God.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 10._
    Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 16._
                       What in me is dark
    Illumine, what is low raise and support,
    That to the height of this great argument
    I may assert eternal Providence,
    And justify the ways of God to men.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 22._
    As far as angels' ken.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 59._
                      Yet from those flames
    No light, but rather darkness visible.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 62._
                               Where peace
    And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
    That comes to all.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 65._
                 What though the field be lost?
    All is not lost; th' unconquerable will,
    And study of revenge, immortal hate,
    And courage never to submit or yield.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 105._
                  To be weak is miserable,
    Doing or suffering.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 157._
    And out of good still to find means of evil.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 165._
                       Farewell happy fields,
    Where joy forever dwells: hail, horrors!
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 249._
    A mind not to be chang'd by place or time.
    The mind is its own place, and in itself
    Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 253._
    Here we may reign secure; and in my choice
    To reign is worth ambition, though in hell:
    Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 261._
                                 Heard so oft
    In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge
    Of battle.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 275._
    His spear, to equal which the tallest pine
    Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast
    Of some great ammiral were but a wand,
    He walk'd with to support uneasy steps
    Over the burning marle.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 292._
    Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks
    In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades
    High over-arch'd imbower.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 302._
    Awake, arise, or be forever fallen!
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 330._
               Spirits when they please
    Can either sex assume, or both.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 423._
    Execute their airy purposes.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 430._
                           When night
    Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons
    Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 500._
    Th' imperial ensign, which full high advanc'd
    Shone like a meteor, streaming to the wind.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 536._
    Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds:
    At which the universal host up sent
    A shout that tore hell's concave, and beyond
    Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 540._
                             Anon they move
    In perfect phalanx, to the Dorian mood
    Of flutes and soft recorders.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 549._
                    His form had yet not lost
    All her original brightness, nor appear'd
    Less than archangel ruin'd, and th' excess
    Of glory obscur'd.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 591._
    In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds
    On half the nations, and with fear of change
    Perplexes monarchs.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 597._
    Thrice he assay'd, and thrice in spite of scorn
    Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 619._
                               Who overcomes
    By force, hath overcome but half his foe.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 648._
    Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell
    From heaven; for ev'n in heaven his looks and thoughts
    Were always downward bent, admiring more
    The riches of heaven's pavement, trodden gold,
    Than aught divine or holy else enjoy'd
    In vision beatific.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 679._
                               Let none admire
    That riches grow in hell: that soil may best
    Deserve the precious bane.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 690._
    Anon out of the earth a fabric huge
    Rose, like an exhalation.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 710._
                            From morn
    To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,
    A summer's day; and with the setting sun
    Dropp'd from the Zenith like a falling star.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 742._
                         Fairy elves,
    Whose midnight revels by a forest side
    Or fountain some belated peasant sees,
    Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon
    Sits arbitress.
_Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 781._
    High on a throne of royal state, which far
    Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind,
    Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand
    Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,
    Satan exalted sat, by merit rais'd
    To that bad eminence.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 1._
    Surer to prosper than prosperity
    Could have assur'd us.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 39._
           The strongest and the fiercest spirit
    That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 44._
                  Rather than be less,
    Car'd not to be at all.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 47._
    My sentence is for open war.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 51._
    That in our proper motion we ascend
    Up to our native seat: descent and fall
    To us is adverse.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 75._
                      When the scourge
    Inexorable and the torturing hour
    Call us to penance.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 90._
    Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 105._
    But all was false and hollow; though his tongue
    Dropp'd manna, and could make the worse appear
    The better reason,[226-1] to perplex and dash
    Maturest counsels.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 112._
                        Th' ethereal mould
    Incapable of stain would soon expel
    Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire,
    Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope
    Is flat despair.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 139._
                     For who would lose,
    Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
    Those thoughts that wander through eternity,
    To perish rather, swallow'd up and lost
    In the wide womb of uncreated night?
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 146._
    His red right hand.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 174._
    Unrespited, unpitied, unrepriev'd.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 185._
             The never-ending flight
    Of future days.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 221._
    Our torments also may in length of time
    Become our elements.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 274._
                             With grave
    Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd
    A pillar of state; deep on his front engraven
    Deliberation sat, and public care;
    And princely counsel in his face yet shone,
    Majestic though in ruin: sage he stood,
    With Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear
    The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look
    Drew audience and attention still as night
    Or summer's noontide air.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 300._
    The palpable obscure.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 406._
                     Long is the way
    And hard, that out of hell leads up to light.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 432._
    Their rising all at once was as the sound
    Of thunder heard remote.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 476._
                  The low'ring element
    Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 490._
    Oh, shame to men! devil with devil damn'd
    Firm concord holds, men only disagree
    Of creatures rational.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 496._
                 In discourse more sweet;
    For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense.
    Others apart sat on a hill retir'd,
    In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high
    Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate,
    Fix'd fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute;
    And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 555._
    Vain wisdom all and false philosophy.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 565._
                   Arm th' obdur'd breast
    With stubborn patience as with triple steel.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 568._
    A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog
    Betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old,
    Where armies whole have sunk: the parching air
    Burns frore, and cold performs th' effect of fire.
    Thither by harpy-footed Furies hal'd,
    At certain revolutions all the damn'd
    Are brought, and feel by turns the bitter change
    Of fierce extremes,--extremes by change more fierce;
    From beds of raging fire to starve in ice
    Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine
    Immovable, infix'd, and frozen round,
    Periods of time; thence hurried back to fire.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 592._
    O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp,
    Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 620._
    Gorgons and Hydras and Chimæras dire.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 628._
                           The other shape,
    If shape it might be call'd that shape had none
    Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb;
    Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd,
    For each seem'd either,--black it stood as night,
    Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell,
    And shook a dreadful dart; what seem'd his head
    The likeness of a kingly crown had on.
    Satan was now at hand.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 666._
    Whence and what art thou, execrable shape?
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 681._
                      Back to thy punishment,
    False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 699._
    So spake the grisly Terror.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 704._
    Incens'd with indignation Satan stood
    Unterrify'd, and like a comet burn'd
    That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge
    In th' arctic sky, and from his horrid hair
    Shakes pestilence and war.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 707._
                        Their fatal hands
    No second stroke intend.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 712._
                            Hell
    Grew darker at their frown.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 719._
              I fled, and cry'd out, DEATH!
    Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd
    From all her caves, and back resounded, DEATH!
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 787._
    Before mine eyes in opposition sits
    Grim Death, my son and foe.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 803._
                                    Death
    Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile, to hear
    His famine should be fill'd.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 845._
                    On a sudden open fly,
    With impetuous recoil and jarring sound,
    Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate
    Harsh thunder.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 879._
                       Where eldest Night
    And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold
    Eternal anarchy amidst the noise
    Of endless wars, and by confusion stand;
    For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce,
    Strive here for mast'ry.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 894._
                        Into this wild abyss,
    The womb of Nature and perhaps her grave.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 910._
                             To compare
    Great things with small.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 921._
    O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,
    With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way,
    And swims or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 948._
    With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout,
    Confusion worse confounded.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 995._
    So he with difficulty and labour hard
    Mov'd on, with difficulty and labour he.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 1021._
    And fast by, hanging in a golden chain,
    This pendent world, in bigness as a star
    Of smallest magnitude, close by the moon.
_Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 1051._
    Hail holy light! offspring of heav'n first-born.
_Paradise Lost. Book iii. Line 1._
    The rising world of waters dark and deep.
_Paradise Lost. Book iii. Line 11._
                Thoughts that voluntary move
    Harmonious numbers.
_Paradise Lost. Book iii. Line 37._
                         Thus with the year
    Seasons return; but not to me returns
    Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,
    Or sight of vernal bloom or summer's rose,
    Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
    But cloud instead, and ever-during dark
    Surrounds me; from the cheerful ways of men
    Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair
    Presented with a universal blank
    Of Nature's works, to me expung'd and raz'd,
    And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
_Paradise Lost. Book iii. Line 40._
Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.
_Paradise Lost. Book iii. Line 99._
    See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds,
    With joy and love triumphing.
_Paradise Lost. Book iii. Line 337._
    Dark with excessive bright.
_Paradise Lost. Book iii. Line 380._
    Embryos and idiots, eremites and friars,
    White, black, and gray, with all their trumpery.
_Paradise Lost. Book iii. Line 474._
                                 Since call'd
    The Paradise of Fools, to few unknown.
_Paradise Lost. Book iii. Line 495._
    And oft, though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps
    At wisdom's gate, and to simplicity
    Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill
    Where no ill seems.
_Paradise Lost. Book iii. Line 686._
    The hell within him.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 20._
                Now conscience wakes despair
    That slumber'd,--wakes the bitter memory
    Of what he was, what is, and what must be
    Worse.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 23._
                 At whose sight all the stars
    Hide their diminish'd heads.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 34._
                       A grateful mind
    By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
    Indebted and discharg'd.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 55._
                         Which way shall I fly
    Infinite wrath and infinite despair?
    Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;
    And in the lowest deep a lower deep,
    Still threat'ning to devour me, opens wide,
    To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 73._
    Such joy ambition finds.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 92._
                          Ease would recant
    Vows made in pain, as violent and void.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 96._
    So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,
    Farewell remorse; all good to me is lost.
    Evil, be thou my good.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 108._
    That practis'd falsehood under saintly shew,
    Deep malice to conceal, couch'd with revenge.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 122._
    Sabean odours from the spicy shore
    Of Araby the Blest.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 162._
            And on the Tree of Life,
    The middle tree and highest there that grew,
    Sat like a cormorant.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 194._
    A heaven on earth.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 208._
    Flowers worthy of paradise.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 241._
    Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 256._
                  Proserpine gathering flowers,
    Herself a fairer flower.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 269._
    For contemplation he and valour form'd,
    For softness she and sweet attractive grace;
    He for God only, she for God in him.
    His fair large front and eye sublime declar'd
    Absolute rule; and hyacinthine locks
    Round from his parted forelock manly hung
    Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 297._
                                      Implied
    Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway,
    And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd,
    Yielded with coy submission, modest pride,
    And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 307._
    Adam the goodliest man of men since born
    His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 323._
                          And with necessity,
    The tyrant's plea,[232-2] excus'd his devilish deeds.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 393._
                           As Jupiter
    On Juno smiles, when he impregns the clouds
    That shed May flowers.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 499._
    Imparadis'd in one another's arms.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 506._
                        Live while ye may,
    Yet happy pair.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 533._
    Now came still evening on, and twilight gray
    Had in her sober livery all things clad;
    Silence accompany'd; for beast and bird,
    They to their grassy couch, these to their nests,
    Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale;
    She all night long her amorous descant sung;
    Silence was pleas'd. Now glow'd the firmament
    With living sapphires; Hesperus, that led
    The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon,
    Rising in clouded majesty, at length
    Apparent queen unveil'd her peerless light,
    And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 598._
    The timely dew of sleep.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 614._
    With thee conversing I forget all time,
    All seasons, and their change,--all please alike.
    Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
    With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun
    When first on this delightful land he spreads
    His orient beams on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,
    Glist'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth
    After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
    Of grateful ev'ning mild; then silent night
    With this her solemn bird and this fair moon,
    And these the gems of heaven, her starry train:
    But neither breath of morn when she ascends
    With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun
    On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower,
    Glist'ring with dew, nor fragrance after showers,
    Nor grateful ev'ning mild, nor silent night
    With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon
    Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 639._
    Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
    Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 677._
               In naked beauty more adorn'd,
    More lovely than Pandora.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 713._
                       Eas'd the putting off
    These troublesome disguises which we wear.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 739._
    Hail wedded love, mysterious law, true source
    Of human offspring.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 750._
    Squat like a toad, close at the ear of Eve.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 800._
    Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spear
    Touch'd lightly; for no falsehood can endure
    Touch of celestial temper.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 810._
    Not to know me argues yourselves unknown,
    The lowest of your throng.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 830._
                  Abash'd the devil stood,
    And felt how awful goodness is, and saw
    Virtue in her shape how lovely.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 846._
    All hell broke loose.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 918._
    Like Teneriff or Atlas unremoved.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 987._
                      The starry cope
    Of heaven.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 992._
                                    Fled
    Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night.
_Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 1014._
    Now morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern clime
    Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl,
    When Adam wak'd, so custom'd; for his sleep
    Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 1._
    Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld
    Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep,
    Shot forth peculiar graces.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 13._
                              My latest found,
    Heaven's last, best gift, my ever new delight!
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 18._
                          Good, the more
    Communicated, more abundant grows.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 71._
    These are thy glorious works, Parent of good!
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 153._
    Fairest of stars, last in the train of night,
    If better thou belong not to the dawn.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 166._
    A wilderness of sweets.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 294._
                          Another morn
    Ris'n on mid-noon.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 310._
    So saying, with despatchful looks in haste
    She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 331._
                          Nor jealousy
    Was understood, the injur'd lover's hell.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 449._
    The bright consummate flower.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 481._
    Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 601._
    They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet
    Quaff immortality and joy.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 637._
    Satan; so call him now, his former name
    Is heard no more in heaven.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 658._
          Midnight brought on the dusky hour
    Friendliest to sleep and silence.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 667._
    Innumerable as the stars of night,
    Or stars of morning, dewdrops which the sun
    Impearls on every leaf and every flower.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 745._
    So spake the seraph Abdiel, faithful found;
    Among the faithless, faithful only he.
_Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 896._
                                 Morn,
    Wak'd by the circling hours, with rosy hand
    Unbarr'd the gates of light.
_Paradise Lost. Book vi. Line 2._
    Servant of God, well done; well hast thou fought
    The better fight.
_Paradise Lost. Book vi. Line 29._
          Arms on armour clashing bray'd
    Horrible discord, and the madding wheels
    Of brazen chariots rag'd: dire was the noise
    Of conflict.
_Paradise Lost. Book vi. Line 209._
                  Spirits that live throughout,
    Vital in every part, not as frail man,
    In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins,
    Cannot but by annihilating die.
_Paradise Lost. Book vi. Line 345._
    Far off his coming shone.
_Paradise Lost. Book vi. Line 768._
    More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchang'd
    To hoarse or mute, though fall'n on evil days,
    On evil days though fall'n, and evil tongues.
_Paradise Lost. Book vii. Line 24._
                      Still govern thou my song,
    Urania, and fit audience find, though few.
_Paradise Lost. Book vii. Line 30._
                     Heaven open'd wide
    Her ever during gates, harmonious sound,
    On golden hinges moving.
_Paradise Lost. Book vii. Line 205._
    Hither, as to their fountain, other stars
    Repairing, in their golden urns draw light.
_Paradise Lost. Book vii. Line 364._
                     Now half appear'd
    The tawny lion, pawing to get free
    His hinder parts.
_Paradise Lost. Book vii. Line 463._
                             Indu'd
    With sanctity of reason.
_Paradise Lost. Book vii. Line 507._
    A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold,
    And pavement stars,--as stars to thee appear
    Seen in the galaxy, that milky way
    Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest
    Powder'd with stars.
_Paradise Lost. Book vii. Line 577._
    The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear
    So charming left his voice, that he awhile
    Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 1._
                      There swift return
    Diurnal, merely to officiate light
    Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 21._
    And grace that won who saw to wish her stay.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 43._
    And touch'd by her fair tendance, gladlier grew.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 47._
    With centric and eccentric scribbled o'er,
    Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 83._
                    Her silent course advance
    With inoffensive pace, that spinning sleeps
    On her soft axle.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 163._
                           Be lowly wise:
    Think only what concerns thee and thy being.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 173._
                               To know
    That which before us lies in daily life
    Is the prime wisdom.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 192._
    Liquid lapse of murmuring streams.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 263._
    And feel that I am happier than I know.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 282._
    Among unequals what society
    Can sort, what harmony, or true delight?
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 383._
    Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye,
    In every gesture dignity and love.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 488._
    Her virtue and the conscience of her worth,
    That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 502._
                She what was honour knew,
    And with obsequious majesty approv'd
    My pleaded reason. To the nuptial bower
    I led her blushing like the morn; all heaven
    And happy constellations on that hour
    Shed their selectest influence; the earth
    Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill;
    Joyous the birds; fresh gales and gentle airs
    Whisper'd it to the woods, and from their wings
    Flung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 508._
    The sum of earthly bliss.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 522._
                           So well to know
    Her own, that what she wills to do or say
    Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 548._
    Accuse not Nature: she hath done her part;
    Do thou but thine.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 561._
               Oft times nothing profits more
    Than self-esteem, grounded on just and right
    Well manag'd.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 571._
                            Those graceful acts,
    Those thousand decencies that daily flow
    From all her words and actions.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 600._
                          With a smile that glow'd
    Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue.
_Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 618._
    My unpremeditated verse.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 24._
    Pleas'd me, long choosing and beginning late.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 26._
             Unless an age too late, or cold
    Climate, or years, damp my intended wing.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 44._
              Revenge, at first though sweet,
    Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 171._
               The work under our labour grows,
    Luxurious by restraint.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 208._
                 Smiles from reason flow,
    To brute deny'd, and are of love the food.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 239._
    For solitude sometimes is best society,
    And short retirement urges sweet return.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 249._
    At shut of evening flowers.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 278._
    As one who long in populous city pent,
    Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 445._
    So gloz'd the tempter.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 549._
                 Hope elevates, and joy
    Brightens his crest.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 633._
                      Left that command
    Sole daughter of his voice.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 652._
    Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat,
    Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe
    That all was lost.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 782._
                       In her face excuse
    Came prologue, and apology too prompt.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 853._
                          A pillar'd shade
    High overarch'd, and echoing walks between.
_Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 1106._
                        Yet I shall temper so
    Justice with mercy, as may illustrate most
    Them fully satisfy'd, and thee appease.
_Paradise Lost. Book x. Line 77._
    So scented the grim Feature, and upturn'd
    His nostril wide into the murky air,
    Sagacious of his quarry from so far.
_Paradise Lost. Book x. Line 279._
                 How gladly would I meet
    Mortality my sentence, and be earth
    Insensible! how glad would lay me down
    As in my mother's lap!
_Paradise Lost. Book x. Line 775._
    Must I thus leave thee, Paradise?--thus leave
    Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades?
_Paradise Lost. Book xi. Line 269._
          Then purg'd with euphrasy and rue
    The visual nerve, for he had much to see.
_Paradise Lost. Book xi. Line 414._
                        Moping melancholy
    And moon-struck madness.
_Paradise Lost. Book xi. Line 485._
    And over them triumphant Death his dart
    Shook, but delay'd to strike, though oft invok'd.
_Paradise Lost. Book xi. Line 491._
    So may'st thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop
    Into thy mother's lap.
_Paradise Lost. Book xi. Line 535._
    Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou liv'st
    Live well: how long or short permit to heaven.
_Paradise Lost. Book xi. Line 553._
    A bevy of fair women.
_Paradise Lost. Book xi. Line 582._
    The brazen throat of war.
_Paradise Lost. Book xi. Line 713._
    Some natural tears they dropp'd, but wip'd them soon;
    The world was all before them, where to choose
    Their place of rest, and Providence their guide.
    They hand in hand, with wand'ring steps and slow,
    Through Eden took their solitary way.
_Paradise Lost. Book xii. Line 645._
                        Beauty stands
    In the admiration only of weak minds
    Led captive.
_Paradise Regained. Book ii. Line 220._
    Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd.
_Paradise Regained. Book ii. Line 228._
    Of whom to be disprais'd were no small praise.
_Paradise Regained. Book iii. Line 56._
    Elephants endors'd with towers.
_Paradise Regained. Book iii. Line 329._
    Syene, and where the shadow both way falls,
    Meroe, Nilotic isle.
_Paradise Regained. Book iv. Line 70._
    Dusk faces with white silken turbans wreath'd.
_Paradise Regained. Book iv. Line 76._
            The childhood shows the man,
    As morning shows the day.
_Paradise Regained. Book iv. Line 220._
    Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts
    And eloquence.
_Paradise Regained. Book iv. Line 240._
                  The olive grove of Academe,
    Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird
    Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
_Paradise Regained. Book iv. Line 244._
    Thence to the famous orators repair,
    Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence
    Wielded at will that fierce democratie,
    Shook the arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece,
    To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne.
_Paradise Regained. Book iv. Line 267._
    Socrates . . .
    Whom well inspir'd the oracle pronounc'd
    Wisest of men.
_Paradise Regained. Book iv. Line 274._
    Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.
_Paradise Regained. Book iv. Line 327._
    As children gath'ring pebbles on the shore.
    Or if I would delight my private hours
    With music or with poem, where so soon
    As in our native language can I find
    That solace?
_Paradise Regained. Book iv. Line 330._
                     Till morning fair
    Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray.
_Paradise Regained. Book iv. Line 426._
    O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,
    Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse
    Without all hope of day!
_Samson Agonistes. Line 80._
    The sun to me is dark
    And silent as the moon,
    When she deserts the night
    Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
_Samson Agonistes. Line 86._
    Ran on embattled armies clad in iron,
    And, weaponless himself,
    Made arms ridiculous.
_Samson Agonistes. Line 129._
    Just are the ways of God,
    And justifiable to men;
    Unless there be who think not God at all.
_Samson Agonistes. Line 293._
    What boots it at one gate to make defence,
    And at another to let in the foe?
_Samson Agonistes. Line 560._
    But who is this, what thing of sea or land,
    Female of sex it seems,
    That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay,
    Comes this way sailing
    Like a stately ship
    Of Tarsus, bound for th' isles
    Of Javan or Gadire,
    With all her bravery on, and tackle trim,
    Sails fill'd, and streamers waving,
    Courted by all the winds that hold them play,
    An amber scent of odorous perfume
    Her harbinger?
_Samson Agonistes. Line 710._
    Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power,
    After offence returning, to regain
    Love once possess'd.
_Samson Agonistes. Line 1003._
    He 's gone, and who knows how he may report
    Thy words by adding fuel to the flame?
_Samson Agonistes. Line 1350._
    For evil news rides post, while good news baits.
_Samson Agonistes. Line 1538._
    And as an ev'ning dragon came,
    Assailant on the perched roosts
    And nests in order rang'd
    Of tame villatic fowl.
_Samson Agonistes. Line 1692._
    Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail
    Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt,
    Dispraise, or blame,--nothing but well and fair,
    And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
_Samson Agonistes. Line 1721._
    Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot
    Which men call earth.
_Comus. Line 5._
                          That golden key
    That opes the palace of eternity.
_Comus. Line 13._
    The nodding horror of whose shady brows
    Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.
_Comus. Line 38._
                        I will tell you now
    What never yet was heard in tale or song,
    From old or modern bard, in hall or bower.
_Comus. Line 43._
    Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape
    Crush'd the sweet poison of misused wine.
_Comus. Line 46._
    These my sky-robes spun out of Iris' woof.
_Comus. Line 83._
    The star that bids the shepherd fold.
_Comus. Line 93._
    Midnight shout and revelry,
    Tipsy dance and jollity.
_Comus. Line 103._
    Ere the blabbing eastern scout,
    The nice morn, on th' Indian steep
    From her cabin'd loop-hole peep.
_Comus. Line 138._
                    When the gray-hooded Even,
    Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed,
    Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain.
_Comus. Line 188._
                 A thousand fantasies
    Begin to throng into my memory,
    Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire,
    And airy tongues that syllable men's names
    On sands and shores and desert wildernesses.
_Comus. Line 205._
    O welcome, pure-ey'd Faith, white-handed Hope,
    Thou hovering angel, girt with golden wings!
_Comus. Line 213._
    Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud
    Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
_Comus. Line 221._
    Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould
    Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?
_Comus. Line 244._
    How sweetly did they float upon the wings
    Of silence through the empty-vaulted night,
    At every fall smoothing the raven down
    Of darkness till it smil'd!
_Comus. Line 249._
    Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul
    And lap it in Elysium.
_Comus. Line 256._
    Such sober certainty of waking bliss.
_Comus. Line 263._
    I took it for a faery vision
    Of some gay creatures of the element,
    That in the colours of the rainbow live,
    And play i' th' plighted clouds.
_Comus. Line 298._
    It were a journey like the path to heaven,
    To help you find them.
_Comus. Line 303._
    With thy long levell'd rule of streaming light.
_Comus. Line 340._
    Virtue could see to do what virtue would
    By her own radiant light, though sun and moon
    Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self
    Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude,
    Where with her best nurse Contemplation
    She plumes her feathers and lets grow her wings,
    That in the various bustle of resort
    Were all-to ruffled, and sometimes impair'd.
    He that has light within his own clear breast
    May sit i' th' centre and enjoy bright day;
    But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts
    Benighted walks under the midday sun.
_Comus. Line 373._
                           The unsunn'd heaps
    Of miser's treasure.
_Comus. Line 398._
    'T is chastity, my brother, chastity:
    She that has that is clad in complete steel.
_Comus. Line 420._
    Some say no evil thing that walks by night,
    In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen,
    Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost
    That breaks his magic chains at curfew time,
    No goblin, or swart fairy of the mine,
    Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.
_Comus. Line 432._
    So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity,
    That when a soul is found sincerely so,
    A thousand liveried angels lackey her,
    Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,
    And in clear dream and solemn vision
    Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear,
    Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants
    Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape.
_Comus. Line 453._
    How charming is divine philosophy!
    Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,
    But musical as is Apollo's lute,
    And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets
    Where no crude surfeit reigns.
_Comus. Line 476._
    And sweeten'd every musk-rose of the dale.
_Comus. Line 496._
    Fill'd the air with barbarous dissonance.
_Comus. Line 550._
                          I was all ear,
    And took in strains that might create a soul
    Under the ribs of death.
_Comus. Line 560._
                           That power
    Which erring men call Chance.
_Comus. Line 587._
                               If this fail,
    The pillar'd firmament is rottenness,
    And earth's base built on stubble.
_Comus. Line 597._
    The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it,
    But in another country, as he said,
    Bore a bright golden flow'r, but not in this soil;
    Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain
    Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon.
_Comus. Line 631._
    Enter'd the very lime-twigs of his spells,
    And yet came off.
_Comus. Line 646._
                     This cordial julep here,
    That flames and dances in his crystal bounds.
_Comus. Line 672._
    Budge doctors of the Stoic fur.
_Comus. Line 707._
    And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons.
_Comus. Line 727._
    It is for homely features to keep home,
    They had their name thence; coarse complexions
    And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply
    The sampler and to tease the huswife's wool.
    What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that,
    Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?
_Comus. Line 748._
                            Swinish gluttony
    Ne'er looks to heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast,
    But with besotted base ingratitude
    Crams, and blasphemes his feeder.
_Comus. Line 776._
    Enjoy your dear wit and gay rhetoric,
    That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence.
_Comus. Line 790._
                           His rod revers'd,
    And backward mutters of dissevering power.
_Comus. Line 816._
    Sabrina fair,
      Listen where thou art sitting
    Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,
      In twisted braids of lilies knitting
    The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair.
_Comus. Line 859._
    But now my task is smoothly done,
    I can fly, or I can run.
_Comus. Line 1012._
    Or if Virtue feeble were,
    Heav'n itself would stoop to her.
_Comus. Line 1022._
    I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,
    And with forc'd fingers rude
    Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
_Lycidas. Line 3._
                                He knew
    Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
_Lycidas. Line 10._
    Without the meed of some melodious tear.
_Lycidas. Line 14._
    Under the opening eyelids of the morn.
_Lycidas. Line 26._
    But oh the heavy change, now thou art gone,
    Now thou art gone and never must return!
_Lycidas. Line 37._
    The gadding vine.
_Lycidas. Line 40._
    And strictly meditate the thankless Muse.
_Lycidas. Line 66._
    To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
    Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair.
_Lycidas. Line 68._
    Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
    (That last infirmity of noble mind)
    To scorn delights, and live laborious days;
    But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,
    And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
    Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorred shears
    And slits the thin-spun life.
_Lycidas. Line 70._
    Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil.
_Lycidas. Line 78._
    It was that fatal and perfidious bark,
    Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark.
_Lycidas. Line 100._
    The pilot of the Galilean lake;
    Two massy keys he bore, of metals twain
    (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain).
_Lycidas. Line 109._
    But that two-handed engine at the door
    Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
_Lycidas. Line 130._
    Throw hither all your quaint enamell'd eyes
    That on the green turf suck the honied showers,
    And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
    Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,
    The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
    The white pink, and the pansy freakt with jet,
    The glowing violet,
    The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd woodbine,
    With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
    And every flower that sad embroidery wears.
_Lycidas. Line 139._
    So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
    And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
    And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore
    Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.
_Lycidas. Line 168._
    He touch'd the tender stops of various quills,
    With eager thought warbling his Doric lay.
_Lycidas. Line 188._
    To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new.
_Lycidas. Line 193._
    Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee
    Jest and youthful Jollity,
    Quips and Cranks and wanton Wiles,
    Nods and Becks and wreathed Smiles.
_L'Allegro. Line 25._
    Sport, that wrinkled Care derides,
    And Laughter holding both his sides.
    Come and trip it as ye go,
    On the light fantastic toe.
_L'Allegro. Line 31._
    The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty.
_L'Allegro. Line 36._
    And every shepherd tells his tale
    Under the hawthorn in the dale.
_L'Allegro. Line 67._
    Meadows trim with daisies pied,
    Shallow brooks and rivers wide;
    Towers and battlements it sees
    Bosom'd high in tufted trees,
    Where perhaps some beauty lies,
    The cynosure of neighboring eyes.
_L'Allegro. Line 75._
    Herbs, and other country messes,
    Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses.
_L'Allegro. Line 85._
    To many a youth and many a maid
    Dancing in the chequer'd shade.
_L'Allegro. Line 95._
    Then to the spicy nut-brown ale.
_L'Allegro. Line 100._
    Tower'd cities please us then,
    And the busy hum of men.
_L'Allegro. Line 117._
               Ladies, whose bright eyes
    Rain influence, and judge the prize.
_L'Allegro. Line 121._
    Such sights as youthful poets dream
    On summer eyes by haunted stream.
    Then to the well-trod stage anon,
    If Jonson's learned sock be on,
    Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,
    Warble his native wood-notes wild.
_L'Allegro. Line 129._
    And ever against eating cares
    Lap me in soft Lydian airs,
    Married to immortal verse,
    Such as the meeting soul may pierce,
    In notes with many a winding bout
    Of linked sweetness long drawn out.
_L'Allegro. Line 135._
    Untwisting all the chains that tie
    The hidden soul of harmony.
_L'Allegro. Line 143._
    The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
_Il Penseroso. Line 8._
    And looks commercing with the skies,
    Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes.
_Il Penseroso. Line 39._
    Forget thyself to marble.
_Il Penseroso. Line 42._
    And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet,
    Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet.
_Il Penseroso. Line 45._
    And add to these retired Leisure,
    That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.
_Il Penseroso. Line 49._
    Sweet bird, that shun'st the noise of folly,
    Most musical, most melancholy!
_Il Penseroso. Line 61._
                  I walk unseen
    On the dry smooth-shaven green,
    To behold the wandering moon
    Riding near her highest noon,
    Like one that had been led astray
    Through the heav'n's wide pathless way;
    And oft, as if her head she bow'd,
    Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
_Il Penseroso. Line 65._
    Where glowing embers through the room
    Teach light to counterfeit a gloom.
_Il Penseroso. Line 79._
    Far from all resort of mirth
    Save the cricket on the hearth.
_Il Penseroso. Line 81._
    Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy
    In sceptred pall come sweeping by,
    Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line,
    Or the tale of Troy divine.
_Il Penseroso. Line 97._
    Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing
    Such notes as, warbled to the string,
    Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek.
_Il Penseroso. Line 105._
    Or call up him that left half told
    The story of Cambuscan bold.
_Il Penseroso. Line 109._
    Where more is meant than meets the ear.
_Il Penseroso. Line 120._
    When the gust hath blown his fill,
    Ending on the rustling leaves
    With minute drops from off the eaves.
_Il Penseroso. Line 128._
    Hide me from day's garish eye.
_Il Penseroso. Line 141._
    And storied windows richly dight,
    Casting a dim religious light.
_Il Penseroso. Line 159._
    Till old experience do attain
    To something like prophetic strain.
_Il Penseroso. Line 173._
    Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
_Arcades. Line 68._
    Under the shady roof
    Of branching elm star-proof.
_Arcades. Line 88._
    O fairest flower! no sooner blown but blasted,
    Soft silken primrose fading timelessly.
_Ode on the Death of a fair Infant, dying of a Cough._
    Such as may make thee search the coffers round.
_At a Vacation Exercise. Line 31._
    No war or battle's sound
    Was heard the world around.
_Hymn on Christ's Nativity. Line 53._
    Time will run back and fetch the age of gold.
_Hymn on Christ's Nativity. Line 135._
    Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail.
_Hymn on Christ's Nativity. Line 172._
          The oracles are dumb,
          No voice or hideous hum
    Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.
          Apollo from his shrine
          Can no more divine,
    With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.
    No nightly trance or breathed spell
    Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
_Hymn on Christ's Nativity. Line 173._
    From haunted spring and dale
    Edg'd with poplar pale
    The parting genius is with sighing sent.
_Hymn on Christ's Nativity. Line 184._
    Peor and Baälim
    Forsake their temples dim.
_Hymn on Christ's Nativity. Line 197._
    What needs my Shakespeare for his honour'd bones,
    The labour of an age in piled stones?
    Or that his hallow'd relics should be hid
    Under a star-y-pointing pyramid?
    Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,
    What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?
_Epitaph on Shakespeare._
    And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie,
    That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.
_Epitaph on Shakespeare._
    Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.
_Sonnet to the Nightingale._
    As ever in my great Taskmaster's eye.
_On his being arrived to the Age of Twenty-three._
    The great Emathian conqueror bid spare
    The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower
    Went to the ground.
_When the Assault was intended to the City._
    That old man eloquent.
_To the Lady Margaret Ley._
    That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp.
_On the Detraction which followed upon my writing certain Treatises._
    License they mean when they cry, Liberty!
    For who loves that must first be wise and good.
_On the Detraction which followed upon my writing certain Treatises._
                   Peace hath her victories
    No less renown'd than war.
_To the Lord General Cromwell._
    Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
    When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones.
_On the late Massacre in Piedmont._
            Thousands at his bidding speed,
    And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
    They also serve who only stand and wait.
_On his Blindness._
    What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,
    Of Attic taste?
_To Mr. Lawrence._
    In mirth that after no repenting draws.
_Sonnet xxi. To Cyriac Skinner._
    For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains,
    And disapproves that care, though wise in show,
    That with superfluous burden loads the day,
    And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.
_Sonnet xxi. To Cyriac Skinner._
                       Yet I argue not
    Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate a jot
    Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer
    Right onward.
_Sonnet xxii. To Cyriac Skinner._
    Of which all Europe rings from side to side.
_Sonnet xxii. To Cyriac Skinner._
    But oh! as to embrace me she inclin'd,
    I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.
_On his Deceased Wife._
                    Have hung
    My dank and dropping weeds
    To the stern god of sea.
_Translation of Horace. Book i. Ode 5._
     For such kind of borrowing as this, if it be not bettered by the
     borrower, among good authors is accounted Plagiarè.
_Iconoclastes. xxiii._
     Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the
     sunbeam.
_Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce._
     A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his
     garland and singing robes about him.
_The Reason of Church Government. Introduction, Book ii._
     By labour and intent study (which I take to be my portion in this
     life), joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might
     perhaps leave something so written to after times as they should
     not willingly let it die.
_The Reason of Church Government. Introduction, Book ii._
     Beholding the bright countenance of truth in the quiet and still
     air of delightful studies.
_The Reason of Church Government. Introduction, Book ii._
     He who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter
     in laudable things ought himself to be a true poem.
_Apology for Smectymnuus._
     His words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him
     at command.
_Apology for Smectymnuus._
     Litigious terms, fat contentions, and flowing fees.
_Tractate of Education._
     I shall detain you no longer in the demonstration of what we
     should not do, but straight conduct ye to a hillside, where I
     will point ye out the right path of a virtuous and noble
     education; laborious indeed at the first ascent, but else so
     smooth, so green, so full of goodly prospect and melodious sounds
     on every side that the harp of Orpheus was not more charming.
_Tractate of Education._
     Enflamed with the study of learning and the admiration of virtue;
     stirred up with high hopes of living to be brave men and worthy
     patriots, dear to God, and famous to all ages.
_Tractate of Education._
     Ornate rhetorick taught out of the rule of Plato. . . . To which
     poetry would be made subsequent, or indeed rather precedent, as
     being less suttle and fine, but more simple, sensuous, and
     passionate.
_Tractate of Education._
     In those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm and
     pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against Nature not to
     go out and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with
     heaven and earth.
_Tractate of Education._
     Attic tragedies of stateliest and most regal argument.
_Tractate of Education._
     As good almost kill a man as kill a good book: who kills a man
     kills a reasonable creature, God's image; but he who destroys a
     good book kills reason itself.
_Areopagitica._
     A good book is the precious life-blood of a master-spirit,
     embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life.
_Areopagitica._
     Seasoned life of man preserved and stored up in books.
_Areopagitica._
     I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and
     unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but
     slinks out of the race where that immortal garland is to be run
     for, not without dust and heat.
_Areopagitica._
     Who shall silence all the airs and madrigals that whisper
     softness in chambers?
_Areopagitica._
     Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing
     herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible
     locks; methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth,
     and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam.
_Areopagitica._
     Though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the
     earth, so Truth be in the field, we do ingloriously, by licensing
     and prohibiting, to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood
     grapple: who ever knew Truth put to the worse in a free and open
     encounter?
_Areopagitica._
     Men of most renowned virtue have sometimes by transgressing most
     truly kept the law.
_Tetrachordon._
     By this time, like one who had set out on his way by night, and
     travelled through a region of smooth or idle dreams, our history
     now arrives on the confines, where daylight and truth meet us
     with a clear dawn, representing to our view, though at a far
     distance, true colours and shapes.
_The History of England. Book i._
     Such bickerings to recount, met often in these our writers, what
     more worth is it than to chronicle the wars of kites or crows
     flocking and fighting in the air?
_The History of England. Book iv._
EDWARD HYDE CLARENDON. 1608-1674.
     He [Hampden] had a head to contrive, a tongue to persuade, and a
     hand to execute any mischief.
_History of the Rebellion. Vol. iii. Book vii. § 84._
SIR JOHN SUCKLING. 1609-1641.
    Her feet beneath her petticoat
    Like little mice stole in and out,
      As if they feared the light;
    But oh, she dances such a way!
    No sun upon an Easter-day
      Is half so fine a sight.
_Ballad upon a Wedding._
    Her lips were red, and one was thin;
    Compared with that was next her chin,
    Some bee had stung it newly.
_Ballad upon a Wedding._
    Why so pale and wan, fond lover?
        Prithee, why so pale?
    Will, when looking well can't move her,
        Looking ill prevail?
        Prithee, why so pale?
_Song._
    'T is expectation makes a blessing dear;
    Heaven were not heaven if we knew what it were.
_Against Fruition._
    She is pretty to walk with,
    And witty to talk with,
    And pleasant, too, to think on.
_Brennoralt. Act ii._
    Her face is like the milky way i' the sky,
    A meeting of gentle lights without a name.
_Brennoralt. Act iii._
    But as when an authentic watch is shown,
    Each man winds up and rectifies his own,
    So in our very judgments.
_Aglaura. Epilogue._
    The prince of darkness is a gentleman.
_The Goblins._
    Nick of time.
_The Goblins._
    "High characters," cries one, and he would see
    Things that ne'er were, nor are, nor e'er will be.
_The Goblins. Epilogue._
MARQUIS OF MONTROSE. 1612-1650.
    He either fears his fate too much,
      Or his deserts are small,
    That dares not put it to the touch
      To gain or lose it all.
_My Dear and only Love._
    I 'll make thee glorious by my pen,
      And famous by my sword.
_My Dear and only Love._
SIR JOHN DENHAM. 1615-1668.
    Though with those streams he no resemblance hold,
    Whose foam is amber and their gravel gold;
    His genuine and less guilty wealth t' explore,
    Search not his bottom, but survey his shore.
_Cooper's Hill. Line 165._
    Oh, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream
    My great example, as it is my theme!
    Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull;
    Strong without rage; without o'erflowing, full.
_Cooper's Hill. Line 189._
     Actions of the last age are like almanacs of the last year.
_The Sophy. A Tragedy._
    But whither am I strayed? I need not raise
    Trophies to thee from other men's dispraise;
    Nor is thy fame on lesser ruins built;
    Nor needs thy juster title the foul guilt
    Of Eastern kings, who, to secure their reign,
    Must have their brothers, sons, and kindred slain.
_On Mr. John Fletcher's Works._
RICHARD CRASHAW. _Circa_ 1616-1650.
    The conscious water saw its God and blushed.
_Epigram._
    Whoe'er she be,
    That not impossible she,
    That shall command my heart and me.
_Wishes to his Supposed Mistress._
    Where'er she lie,
    Locked up from mortal eye,
    In shady leaves of destiny.
_Wishes to his Supposed Mistress._
    Days that need borrow
    No part of their good morrow
    From a fore-spent night of sorrow.
_Wishes to his Supposed Mistress._
    Life that dares send
    A challenge to his end,
    And when it comes, say, Welcome, friend!
_Wishes to his Supposed Mistress._
    Sydneian showers
    Of sweet discourse, whose powers
    Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.
_Wishes to his Supposed Mistress._
    A happy soul, that all the way
    To heaven hath a summer's day.
_In Praise of Lessius's Rule of Health._
    The modest front of this small floor,
    Believe me, reader, can say more
    Than many a braver marble can,
    "Here lies a truly honest man!"
_Epitaph upon Mr. Ashton._
RICHARD LOVELACE. 1618-1658.
    Oh, could you view the melody
      Of every grace
      And music of her face,
    You 'd drop a tear;
      Seeing more harmony
      In her bright eye
    Than now you hear.
_Orpheus to Beasts._
    I could not love thee, dear, so much,
      Lov'd I not honour more.
_To Lucasta, on going to the Wars._
    When flowing cups pass swiftly round
      With no allaying Thames.
_To Althea from Prison, ii._
    Fishes that tipple in the deep,
      Know no such liberty.
_To Althea from Prison, ii._
    Stone walls do not a prison make,
      Nor iron bars a cage;
    Minds innocent and quiet take
      That for an hermitage;
    If I have freedom in my love,
      And in my soul am free,
    Angels alone that soar above
      Enjoy such liberty.
_To Althea from Prison, iv._
ABRAHAM COWLEY. 1618-1667.
    What shall I do to be forever known,
    And make the age to come my own?
_The Motto._
    His time is forever, everywhere his place.
_Friendship in Absence._
    We spent them not in toys, in lusts, or wine,
        But search of deep philosophy,
        Wit, eloquence, and poetry;
    Arts which I lov'd, for they, my friend, were thine.
_On the Death of Mr. William Harvey._
    His _faith_, perhaps, in some nice tenets might
    Be wrong; his _life_, I 'm sure, was in the right.
_On the Death of Crashaw._
    The thirsty earth soaks up the rain,
    And drinks, and gapes for drink again;
    The plants suck in the earth, and are
    With constant drinking fresh and fair.
_From Anacreon, ii. Drinking._
    Fill all the glasses there, for why
    Should every creature drink but I?
    Why, man of morals, tell me why?
_From Anacreon, ii. Drinking._
    A mighty pain to love it is,
    And 't is a pain that pain to miss;
    But of all pains, the greatest pain
    It is to love, but love in vain.
_From Anacreon, vii. Gold._
    Hope, of all ills that men endure,
    The only cheap and universal cure.
_The Mistress. For Hope._
    Th' adorning thee with so much art
      Is but a barb'rous skill;
    'T is like the pois'ning of a dart,
      Too apt before to kill.
_The Waiting Maid._
    Nothing is there to come, and nothing past,
    But an eternal now does always last.
_Davideis. Book i. Line 25._
    When Israel was from bondage led,
      Led by the Almighty's hand
      From out of foreign land,
    The great sea beheld and fled.
_Davideis. Book i. Line 41._
    An harmless flaming meteor shone for hair,
    And fell adown his shoulders with loose care.
_Davideis. Book ii. Line 95._
    The monster London laugh at me.
_Of Solitude, xi._
    Let but thy wicked men from out thee go,
    And all the fools that crowd thee so,
    Even thou, who dost thy millions boast,
    A village less than Islington wilt grow,
    A solitude almost.
_Of Solitude, vii._
    The fairest garden in her looks,
    And in her mind the wisest books.
_The Garden, i._
    God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.
_The Garden, ii._
    Hence, ye profane! I hate ye all,
    Both the great vulgar and the small.
_Horace. Book iii. Ode 1._
    Charm'd with the foolish whistling of a name.
_Virgil, Georgics. Book ii. Line 72._
    Words that weep and tears that speak.
_The Prophet._
    We griev'd, we sigh'd, we wept; we never blush'd before.
_Discourse concerning the Government of Oliver Cromwell._
    Thus would I double my life's fading space;
    For he that runs it well, runs twice his race.
_Discourse xi. Of Myself. St. xi._
RALPH VENNING. 1620(?)-1673.
    All the beauty of the world, 't is but skin deep.
_Orthodoxe Paradoxes._ (Third edition, 1650.) _The Triumph of Assurance,
p. 41._
    They spare the rod, and spoyle the child.
_Mysteries and Revelations, p. 5._ (_1649._)
ANDREW MARVELL. 1620-1678.
                          Orange bright,
    Like golden lamps in a green night.
_Bermudas._
    And all the way, to guide their chime,
    With falling oars they kept the time.
_Bermudas._
    In busy companies of men.
_The Garden._ (Translated.)
    Annihilating all that 's made
    To a green thought in a green shade.
_The Garden._ (Translated.)
    The world in all doth but two nations bear,
    The good, the bad; and these mixed everywhere.
_The Loyal Scot._
    The inglorious arts of peace.
_Upon Cromwell's return from Ireland._
    He nothing common did, or mean,
    Upon that memorable scene.
_Upon Cromwell's return from Ireland._
    So much one man can do,
    That does both act and know.
_Upon Cromwell's return from Ireland._
    To make a bank was a great plot of state;
    Invent a shovel, and be a magistrate.
_The Character of Holland._
JOSEPH HENSHAW.[263-1] ---- -1678.
    Man's life is like unto a winter's day,
    Some break their fast and so depart away;
    Others stay dinner, then depart full fed;
    The longest age but sups and goes to bed.
    O reader, then behold and see!
    As we are now, so must you be.
_Horæ Sucissive_ (1631).
HENRY VAUGHAN. 1621-1695.
    But felt through all this fleshly dress
    Bright shoots of everlastingness.
_The Retreat._
    I see them walking in an air of glory
      Whose light doth trample on my days,
    My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
      Mere glimmering and decays.
_They are all gone._
    Dear, beauteous death, the jewel of the just!
      Shining nowhere but in the dark;
    What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,
      Could man outlook that mark!
_They are all gone._
    And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams
    Call to the soul when man doth sleep,
    So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,
    And into glory peep.
_They are all gone._
    Then bless thy secret growth, nor catch
    At noise, but thrive unseen and dumb;
    Keep clean, be as fruit, earn life, and watch
    Till the white-wing'd reapers come!
_The Seed growing secretly._
ALGERNON SIDNEY. 1622-1683.
          Manus haec inimica tyrannis
    Ense petit placidam sub libertate quietem.
_From the Life and Memoirs of Algernon Sidney._
     Liars ought to have good memories.
_Discourses on Government. Chap. ii. Sect. xv._
     Men lived like fishes; the great ones devoured the small.
_Discourses on Government. Chap. ii. Sect. xviii._
     God helps those who help themselves.
_Discourses on Government. Chap. ii. Sect. xxiii._
     It is not necessary to light a candle to the sun.
_Discourses on Government. Chap. ii. Sect. xxiii._
WILLIAM WALKER. 1623-1684.
    Learn to read slow: all other graces
    Will follow in their proper places.
_The Art of Reading._
JOHN BUNYAN. 1628-1688.
                              And so I penned
    It down, until at last it came to be,
    For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.
_Pilgrim's Progress. Apology for his Book._
    Some said, "John, print it;" others said, "Not so."
    Some said, "It might do good;" others said, "No."
_Pilgrim's Progress. Apology for his Book._
     The name of the slough was Despond.
_Pilgrim's Progress. Part i._
     Every fat must stand upon his bottom.
_Pilgrim's Progress. Part i._
     Dark as pitch.
_Pilgrim's Progress. Part i._
     It beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because the town where 't is
     kept is lighter than vanity.
_Pilgrim's Progress. Part i._
     The palace Beautiful.
_Pilgrim's Progress. Part i._
     They came to the Delectable Mountains.
_Pilgrim's Progress. Part i._
    Some things are of that nature as to make
    One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache.
_Pilgrim's Progress. The Author's Way of sending forth his Second Part of
the Pilgrim._
     He that is down needs fear no fall.
_Pilgrim's Progress. Part ii._
SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE. 1628-1699.
     Books, like proverbs, receive their chief value from the stamp
     and esteem of ages through which they have passed.
_Ancient and Modern Learning._
     No clap of thunder in a fair frosty day could more astonish the
     world than our declaration of war against Holland in 1672.
_Memoirs. Vol. ii. p. 255._
     When all is done, human life is, at the greatest and the best,
     but like a froward child, that must be played with and humoured a
     little to keep it quiet till it falls asleep, and then the care
     is over.
_Miscellanea. Part ii. Of Poetry._
JOHN TILLOTSON. 1630-1694.
     If God were not a necessary Being of himself, he might almost
     seem to be made for the use and benefit of men.
WILLIAM STOUGHTON. 1631-1701.
     God sifted a whole nation that he might send choice grain over
     into this wilderness.
_Election Sermon at Boston, April 29, 1669._
JOHN DRYDEN. 1631-1701.
    Above any Greek or Roman name.
_Upon the Death of Lord Hastings. Line 76._
    And threat'ning France, plac'd like a painted Jove,
    Kept idle thunder in his lifted hand.
_Annus Mirabilis. Stanza 39._
    Whate'er he did was done with so much ease,
    In him alone 't was natural to please.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 27._
    A fiery soul, which, working out its way,
    Fretted the pygmy-body to decay,
    And o'er-inform'd the tenement of clay.
    A daring pilot in extremity;
    Pleas'd with the danger, when the waves went high
    He sought the storms.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 156._
    Great wits are sure to madness near allied,
    And thin partitions do their bounds divide.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 163._
    And all to leave what with his toil he won
    To that unfeather'd two-legged thing, a son.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 169._
    Resolv'd to ruin or to rule the state.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 174._
    And heaven had wanted one immortal song.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 197._
    But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand,
    And Fortune's ice prefers to Virtue's land.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 198._
    The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme,
    The young men's vision, and the old men's dream!
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 238._
    Behold him setting in his western skies,
    The shadows lengthening as the vapours rise.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 268._
    Than a successive title long and dark,
    Drawn from the mouldy rolls of Noah's ark.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 301._
    Not only hating David, but the king.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 512._
    Who think too little, and who talk too much.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 534._
    A man so various, that he seem'd to be
    Not one, but all mankind's epitome;
    Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong,
    Was everything by starts, and nothing long;
    But in the course of one revolving moon
    Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 545._
    So over violent, or over civil,
    That every man with him was God or Devil.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 557._
    His tribe were God Almighty's gentlemen.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 645._
    Him of the western dome, whose weighty sense
    Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 868._
    Beware the fury of a patient man.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 1005._
    Made still a blund'ring kind of melody;
    Spurr'd boldly on, and dashed through thick and thin,
    Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part ii. Line 413._
    For every inch that is not fool is rogue.
_Absalom and Achitophel. Part ii. Line 463._
    Men met each other with erected look,
    The steps were higher that they took;
    Friends to congratulate their friends made haste,
    And long inveterate foes saluted as they pass'd.
_Threnodia Augustalis. Line 124._
    For truth has such a face and such a mien,
    As to be lov'd needs only to be seen.
_The Hind and the Panther. Part i. Line 33._
    And kind as kings upon their coronation day.
_The Hind and the Panther. Part i. Line 271._
    For those whom God to ruin has design'd,
    He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind.
_The Hind and the Panther. Part iii. Line 2387._
    But Shadwell never deviates into sense.
_Mac Flecknoe. Line 20._
    Our vows are heard betimes! and Heaven takes care
    To grant, before we can conclude the prayer:
    Preventing angels met it half the way,
    And sent us back to praise, who came to pray.
_Britannia Rediviva. Line 1._
    And torture one poor word ten thousand ways.
_Britannia Rediviva. Line 208._
    Thus all below is strength, and all above is grace.
_Epistle to Congreve. Line 19._
    Be kind to my remains; and oh defend,
    Against your judgment, your departed friend!
_Epistle to Congreve. Line 72._
    Better to hunt in fields for health unbought
    Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught.
    The wise for cure on exercise depend;
    God never made his work for man to mend.
_Epistle to John Dryden of Chesterton. Line 92._
                      Wit will shine
    Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line.
_To the Memory of Mr. Oldham. Line 15._
    So softly death succeeded life in her,
    She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.
_Eleonora. Line 315._
    Since heaven's eternal year is thine.
_Elegy on Mrs. Killegrew. Line 15._
    O gracious God! how far have we
    Profan'd thy heavenly gift of poesy!
_Elegy on Mrs. Killegrew. Line 56._
    Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child.
_Elegy on Mrs. Killegrew. Line 70._
    He was exhal'd; his great Creator drew
    His spirit, as the sun the morning dew.
_On the Death of a very young Gentleman._
    Three poets, in three distant ages born,
    Greece, Italy, and England did adorn.
    The first in loftiness of thought surpass'd;
    The next, in majesty; in both the last.
    The force of Nature could no further go;
    To make a third, she join'd the former two.
_Under Mr. Milton's Picture._
    From harmony, from heavenly harmony,
         This universal frame began:
         From harmony to harmony
    Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
    The diapason closing full in Man.
_A Song for St. Cecilia's Day. Line 11._
    None but the brave deserves the fair.
_Alexander's Feast. Line 15._
        With ravish'd ears
        The monarch hears;
        Assumes the god,
        Affects to nod,
    And seems to shake the spheres.
_Alexander's Feast. Line 37._
    Bacchus, ever fair and ever young.
_Alexander's Feast. Line 54._
        Rich the treasure,
        Sweet the pleasure,
    Sweet is pleasure after pain.
_Alexander's Feast. Line 58._
    Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain;
    Fought all his battles o'er again;
    And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain.
_Alexander's Feast. Line 66._
    Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
    Fallen from his high estate,
      And welt'ring in his blood;
    Deserted, at his utmost need,
    By those his former bounty fed,
    On the bare earth expos'd he lies,
    With not a friend to close his eyes.
_Alexander's Feast. Line 77._
    For pity melts the mind to love.
_Alexander's Feast. Line 96._
    Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,
    Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
    War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
    Honour but an empty bubble;
      Never ending, still beginning,
    Fighting still, and still destroying.
      If all the world be worth the winning,
    Think, oh think it worth enjoying:
      Lovely Thais sits beside thee,
      Take the good the gods provide thee.
_Alexander's Feast. Line 97._
    Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again.
_Alexander's Feast. Line 120._
    And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.
_Alexander's Feast. Line 154._
    Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
_Alexander's Feast. Line 160._
    He rais'd a mortal to the skies,
    She drew an angel down.
_Alexander's Feast. Line 169._
    A very merry, dancing, drinking,
    Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time.
_The Secular Masque. Line 40._
    Fool, not to know that love endures no tie,
    And Jove but laughs at lovers' perjury.
_Palamon and Arcite. Book ii. Line 758._
    For Art may err, but Nature cannot miss.
_The Cock and the Fox. Line 452._
    And that one hunting, which the Devil design'd
    For one fair female, lost him half the kind.
_Theodore and Honoria. Line 227._
    Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit,
    The power of beauty I remember yet.
_Cymon and Iphigenia. Line 1._
    When beauty fires the blood, how love exalts the mind!
_Cymon and Iphigenia. Line 41._
    He trudg'd along unknowing what he sought,
    And whistled as he went, for want of thought.
_Cymon and Iphigenia. Line 84._
    The fool of nature stood with stupid eyes
    And gaping mouth, that testified surprise.
_Cymon and Iphigenia. Line 107._
    Love taught him shame; and shame, with love at strife,
    Soon taught the sweet civilities of life.
_Cymon and Iphigenia. Line 133._
    She hugg'd the offender, and forgave the offence:
    Sex to the last.
_Cymon and Iphigenia. Line 367._
    And raw in fields the rude militia swarms,
    Mouths without hands; maintain'd at vast expense,
    In peace a charge, in war a weak defence;
    Stout once a month they march, a blustering band,
    And ever but in times of need at hand.
_Cymon and Iphigenia. Line 400._
    Of seeming arms to make a short essay,
    Then hasten to be drunk,--the business of the day.
_Cymon and Iphigenia. Line 407._
    Happy who in his verse can gently steer
    From grave to light, from pleasant to severe.
_The Art of Poetry. Canto i. Line 75._
    Happy the man, and happy he alone,
      He who can call to-day his own;
      He who, secure within, can say,
    To-morrow, do thy worst, for I have liv'd to-day.
_Imitation of Horace. Book iii. Ode 29, Line 65._
    Not heaven itself upon the past has power;
    But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
_Imitation of Horace. Book iii. Ode 29, Line 71._
    I can enjoy her while she 's kind;
    But when she dances in the wind,
    And shakes the wings and will not stay,
    I puff the prostitute away.
_Imitation of Horace. Book iii. Ode 29, Line 81._
    And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.
_Imitation of Horace. Book iii. Ode 29, Line 87._
    Arms and the man I sing, who, forced by fate
    And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate.
_Virgil, Æneid, Line 1._
    And new-laid eggs, which Baucis' busy care
    Turn'd by a gentle fire and roasted rare.
_Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book viii. Baucis and Philemon, Line 97._
    Ill habits gather by unseen degrees,
    As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
_Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book xv. The Worship of Æsculapius, Line 155._
    She knows her man, and when you rant and swear,
    Can draw you to her with a single hair.
_Persius. Satire v. Line 246._
    Look round the habitable world: how few
    Know their own good, or knowing it, pursue.
_Juvenal. Satire x._
    Our souls sit close and silently within,
    And their own web from their own entrails spin;
    And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such,
    That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch.
_Mariage à la Mode. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Thespis, the first professor of our art,
    At country wakes sung ballads from a cart.
_Prologue to Lee's Sophonisba._
    Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow;
    He who would search for pearls must dive below.
_All for Love. Prologue._
    Men are but children of a larger growth.
_All for Love. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Your ignorance is the mother of your devotion to me.
_The Maiden Queen. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Burn daylight.
_The Maiden Queen. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    I am resolved to grow fat, and look young till forty.
_The Maiden Queen. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    But Shakespeare's magic could not copied be;
    Within that circle none durst walk but he.
_The Tempest. Prologue._
    I am as free as Nature first made man,
    Ere the base laws of servitude began,
    When wild in woods the noble savage ran.
_The Conquest of Granada. Part i. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Forgiveness to the injured does belong;
    But they ne'er pardon who have done the wrong.
_The Conquest of Granada. Part ii. Act i. Sc. 2._
               What precious drops are those
    Which silently each other's track pursue,
    Bright as young diamonds in their infant dew?
_The Conquest of Granada. Part ii. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Fame then was cheap, and the first comer sped;
    And they have kept it since by being dead.
_The Conquest of Granada. Epilogue._
    Death in itself is nothing; but we fear
    To be we know not what, we know not where.
_Aurengzebe. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    When I consider life, 't is all a cheat.
    Yet fool'd with hope, men favour the deceit;
    Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay.
    To-morrow 's falser than the former day;
    Lies worse, and while it says we shall be blest
    With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.
    Strange cozenage! none would live past years again,
    Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain;
    And from the dregs of life think to receive
    What the first sprightly running could not give.
_Aurengzebe. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    'T is not for nothing that we life pursue;
    It pays our hopes with something still that 's new.
_Aurengzebe. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    All delays are dangerous in war.
_Tyrannic Love. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Pains of love be sweeter far
    Than all other pleasures are.
_Tyrannic Love. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Whatever is, is in its causes just.
_OEdipus. Act iii. Sc. 1._
                   His hair just grizzled,
    As in a green old age.
_OEdipus. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Of no distemper, of no blast he died,
    But fell like autumn fruit that mellow'd long,
    Even wonder'd at, because he dropp'd no sooner.
    Fate seem'd to wind him up for fourscore years,
    Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more;
    Till like a clock worn out with eating time,
    The wheels of weary life at last stood still.
_OEdipus. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    She, though in full-blown flower of glorious beauty,
    Grows cold even in the summer of her age.
_OEdipus. Act iv. Sc. 1._
                     There is a pleasure sure
    In being mad which none but madmen know.
_The Spanish Friar. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Lord of humankind.
_The Spanish Friar. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Bless the hand that gave the blow.
_The Spanish Friar. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Second thoughts, they say, are best.
_The Spanish Friar. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    He 's a sure card.
_The Spanish Friar. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    As sure as a gun.
_The Spanish Friar. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    Nor can his blessed soul look down from heaven,
    Or break the eternal sabbath of his rest.
_The Spanish Friar. Act v. Sc. 2._
    This is the porcelain clay of humankind.
_Don Sebastian. Act i. Sc. 1._
    I have a soul that like an ample shield
    Can take in all, and verge enough for more.
_Don Sebastian. Act i. Sc. 1._
    A knock-down argument: 't is but a word and a blow.
_Amphitryon. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Whistling to keep myself from being afraid.
_Amphitryon. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    The true Amphitryon.
_Amphitryon. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    The spectacles of books.
_Essay on Dramatic Poetry._
EARL OF ROSCOMMON. 1633-1684.
                      Remember Milo's end,
    Wedged in that timber which he strove to rend.
_Essay on Translated Verse. Line 87._
    And choose an author as you choose a friend.
_Essay on Translated Verse. Line 96._
    Immodest words admit of no defence,
    For want of decency is want of sense.
_Essay on Translated Verse. Line 113._
    The multitude is always in the wrong.
_Essay on Translated Verse. Line 184._
    My God, my Father, and my Friend,
    Do not forsake me at my end.
_Translation of Dies Iræ._
THOMAS KEN. 1637-1711.
    Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!
    Praise Him, all creatures here below!
    Praise Him above, ye heavenly host!
    Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
_Morning and Evening Hymn._
SIR JOHN POWELL. ---- -1713.
     Let us consider the reason of the case. For nothing is law that
     is not reason.
_Coggs vs. Bernard, 2 Lord Raymond, 911._
ISAAC NEWTON. 1642-1727.
     I do not know what I may appear to the world; but to myself I
     seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and
     diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a
     prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay
     all undiscovered before me.
_Brewster's Memoirs of Newton. Vol. ii. Chap. xxvii._
EARL OF ROCHESTER. 1647-1680.
    Angels listen when she speaks:
      She 's my delight, all mankind's wonder;
    But my jealous heart would break
      Should we live one day asunder.
_Song._
    Here lies our sovereign lord the king,
      Whose word no man relies on;
    He never says a foolish thing,
      Nor ever does a wise one.
_Written on the Bedchamber Door of Charles II._
    And ever since the Conquest have been fools.
_Artemisia in the Town to Chloe in the Country._
    For pointed satire I would Buckhurst choose,
    The best good man with the worst-natured muse.
_An allusion to Horace, Satire x. Book i._
    A merry monarch, scandalous and poor.
_On the King._
    It is a very good world to live in,
    To lend, or to spend, or to give in;
    But to beg or to borrow, or to get a man's own,
    It is the very worst world that ever was known.
SHEFFIELD, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE. 1649-1720.
    Of all those arts in which the wise excel,
    Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well.
_Essay on Poetry._
    There 's no such thing in Nature; and you 'll draw
    A faultless monster which the world ne'er saw.
_Essay on Poetry._
    Read Homer once, and you can read no more;
    For all books else appear so mean, so poor,
    Verse will seem prose; but still persist to read,
    And Homer will be all the books you need.
_Essay on Poetry._
THOMAS OTWAY. 1651-1685.
    O woman! lovely woman! Nature made thee
    To temper man: we had been brutes without you.
    Angels are painted fair, to look like you:
    There 's in you all that we believe of heaven,
    Amazing brightness, purity, and truth,
    Eternal joy, and everlasting love.
_Venice Preserved. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life;
    Dear as these eyes, that weep in fondness o'er thee.
_Venice Preserved. Act v. Sc. 1._
    And die with decency.
_Venice Preserved. Act v. Sc. 3._
    What mighty ills have not been done by woman!
    Who was 't betrayed the Capitol?--A woman!
    Who lost Mark Antony the world?--A woman!
    Who was the cause of a long ten years' war,
    And laid at last old Troy in ashes?--Woman!
    Destructive, damnable, deceitful woman!
_The Orphan. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     Let us embrace, and from this very moment, vow an eternal misery
     together.
_The Orphan. Act iv. Sc. 2._
ANDREW FLETCHER OF SALTOUN. 1653-1716.
     I knew a very wise man that believed that if a man were permitted
     to make all the ballads, he need not care who should make the
     laws of a nation.
_Letter to the Marquis of Montrose, the Earl of Rothes, etc._
NATHANIEL LEE. 1655-1692.
    Then he will talk--good gods! how he will talk!
_Alexander the Great. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Vows with so much passion, swears with so much grace,
    That 't is a kind of heaven to be deluded by him.
_Alexander the Great. Act i. Sc. 3._
    When Greeks joined Greeks, then was the tug of war.
_Alexander the Great. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    'T is beauty calls, and glory shows the way.
_Alexander the Great. Act iv. Sc. 2._
    Man, false man, smiling, destructive man!
_Theodosius. Act iii. Sc. 2._
JOHN NORRIS. 1657-1711.
      How fading are the joys we dote upon!
      Like apparitions seen and gone.
      But those which soonest take their flight
    Are the most exquisite and strong,
      Like angels' visits, short and bright;
    Mortality 's too weak to bear them long.
_The Parting._
JOHN DENNIS. 1657-1734.
     A man who could make so vile a pun would not scruple to pick a
     pocket.
_The Gentleman's Magazine. Vol. li. Page 324._
     They will not let my play run; and yet they steal my
     thunder.
THOMAS SOUTHERNE. 1660-1746.
    Pity 's akin to love.
_Oroonoka. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Of the king's creation you may be; but he who makes a count
    ne'er made a man.
_Sir Anthony Love. Act ii. Sc. 1._
MATHEW HENRY.[282-4] 1662-1714.
     The better day, the worse deed.
_Commentaries. Genesis iii._
     Many a dangerous temptation comes to us in fine gay colours that
     are but skin-deep.
_Commentaries. Genesis iii._
     So great was the extremity of his pain and anguish that he did
     not only sigh but roar.
_Commentaries. Job iii._
     To their own second thoughts.
_Commentaries. Job vi._
     He rolls it under his tongue as a sweet morsel.
_Commentaries. Psalm xxxvi._
     Our creature comforts.
_Commentaries. Psalm xxxvii._
     None so deaf as those that will not hear.
_Commentaries. Psalm lviii._
     They that die by famine die by inches.
_Commentaries. Psalm lix._
     To fish in troubled waters.
_Commentaries. Psalm lx._
     Here is bread, which strengthens man's heart, and therefore
     called the staff of life.
_Commentaries. Psalm civ._
     Hearkners, we say, seldom hear good of themselves.
_Commentaries. Ecclesiastes vii._
     It was a common saying among the Puritans, "Brown bread and the
     Gospel is good fare."
_Commentaries. Isaiah xxx._
     Blushing is the colour of virtue.
_Commentaries. Jeremiah iii._
     It is common for those that are farthest from God, to boast
     themselves most of their being near to the Church.
_Commentaries. Jeremiah vii._
     None so blind as those that will not see.
_Commentaries. Jeremiah xx._
     Not lost, but gone before.
_Commentaries. Matthew ii._
     Those that are above business.
_Commentaries. Matthew xx._
     Better late than never.
_Commentaries. Matthew xxi._
     Saying and doing are two things.
_Commentaries. Matthew xxi._
     Judas had given them the slip.
_Commentaries. Matthew xxii._
     After a storm comes a calm.
_Commentaries. Acts ix._
     Men of polite learning and a liberal education.
_Commentaries. Acts x._
     It is good news, worthy of all acceptation; and yet not too good
     to be true.
_Commentaries. Timothy i._
     It is not fit the public trusts should be lodged in the hands of
     any, till they are first proved and found fit for the business
     they are to be entrusted with.
_Commentaries. Timothy iii._
RICHARD BENTLEY. 1662-1742.
     It is a maxim with me that no man was ever written out of
     reputation but by himself.
_Monk's Life of Bentley. Page 90._
     "Whatever is, is not," is the maxim of the anarchist, as often as
     anything comes across him in the shape of a law which he happens
     not to like.
_Declaration of Rights._
     The fortuitous or casual concourse of atoms.
_Sermons, vii. Works, Vol. iii. p. 147_ (1692).
HENRY CAREY. 1663-1743.
    God save our gracious king!
    Long live our noble king!
      God save the king!
_God save the King._
    Aldeborontiphoscophornio!
    Where left you Chrononhotonthologos?
_Chrononhotonthologos. Act i. Sc. 1._
    His cogitative faculties immersed
    In cogibundity of cogitation.
_Chrononhotonthologos. Act i. Sc. 1._
                 Let the singing singers
    With vocal voices, most vociferous,
    In sweet vociferation out-vociferize
    Even sound itself.
_Chrononhotonthologos. Act i. Sc. 1._
    To thee, and gentle Rigdom Funnidos,
    Our gratulations flow in streams unbounded.
_Chrononhotonthologos. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Go call a coach, and let a coach be called;
    And let the man who calleth be the caller;
    And in his calling let him nothing call
    But "Coach! Coach! Coach! Oh for a coach, ye gods!"
_Chrononhotonthologos. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    Genteel in personage,
    Conduct, and equipage;
    Noble by heritage,
    Generous and free.
_The Contrivances. Act i. Sc. 2._
    What a monstrous tail our cat has got!
_The Dragon of Wantley. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Of all the girls that are so smart,
      There 's none like pretty Sally.
_Sally in our Alley._
    Of all the days that 's in the week
      I dearly love but one day,
    And that 's the day that comes betwixt
      A Saturday and Monday.
_Sally in our Alley._
DANIEL DEFOE. 1663-1731.
    Wherever God erects a house of prayer,
    The Devil always builds a chapel there;
    And 't will be found, upon examination,
    The latter has the largest congregation.
_The True-Born Englishman. Part i. Line 1._
    Great families of yesterday we show,
    And lords, whose parents were the Lord knows who.
_The True-Born Englishman. Part i. Line 1._
TOM BROWN. 1663-1704.
    I do not love thee, Doctor Fell,
    The reason why I cannot tell;
    But this alone I know full well,
    I do not love thee, Doctor Fell.
_Laconics._
     To treat a poor wretch with a bottle of Burgundy, and fill his
     snuff-box, is like giving a pair of laced ruffles to a man that
     has never a shirt on his back.
_Laconics._
     In the reign of Charles II. a certain worthy divine at Whitehall
     thus addressed himself to the auditory at the conclusion of his
     sermon: "In short, if you don't live up to the precepts of the
     Gospel, but abandon yourselves to your irregular appetites, you
     must expect to receive your reward in a certain place which 't is
     not good manners to mention here."
_Laconics._
MATTHEW PRIOR. 1664-1721.
    All jargon of the schools.
_I am that I am. An Ode._
    Our hopes, like towering falcons, aim
      At objects in an airy height;
    The little pleasure of the game
      Is from afar to view the flight.
_To the Hon. Charles Montague._
    From ignorance our comfort flows.
    The only wretched are the wise.
_To the Hon. Charles Montague._
    Odds life! must one swear to the truth of a song?
_A Better Answer._
    Be to her virtues very kind;
    Be to her faults a little blind.
_An English Padlock._
    That if weak women went astray,
    Their stars were more in fault than they.
_Hans Carvel._
    The end must justify the means.
_Hans Carvel._
    And thought the nation ne'er would thrive
    Till all the whores were burnt alive.
_Paulo Purganti._
    They never taste who always drink;
    They always talk who never think.
_Upon a passage in the Scaligerana._
    That air and harmony of shape express,
    Fine by degrees, and beautifully less.
_Henry and Emma._
    Now fitted the halter, now traversed the cart,
    And often took leave, but was loth to depart.
_The Thief and the Cordelier._
    Nobles and heralds, by your leave,
      Here lies what once was Matthew Prior;
    The son of Adam and of Eve:
      Can Bourbon or Nassau claim higher?
_Epitaph. Extempore._
    Soft peace she brings; wherever she arrives
    She builds our quiet as she forms our lives;
    Lays the rough paths of peevish Nature even,
    And opens in each heart a little heaven.
_Charity._
    His noble negligences teach
    What others' toils despair to reach.
_Alma. Canto ii. Line 7._
    Till their own dreams at length deceive 'em,
    And oft repeating, they believe 'em.
_Alma. Canto iii. Line 13._
    Abra was ready ere I called her name;
    And though I called another, Abra came.
_Solomon on the Vanity of the World. Book ii. Line 364._
    For hope is but the dream of those that wake.
_Solomon on the Vanity of the World. Book iii. Line 102._
    Who breathes must suffer, and who thinks must mourn;
    And he alone is bless'd who ne'er was born.
_Solomon on the Vanity of the World. Book iii. Line 240._
    A Rechabite poor Will must live,
    And drink of Adam's ale.
_The Wandering Pilgrim._
JOHN POMFRET. 1667-1703.
    We bear it calmly, though a ponderous woe,
    And still adore the hand that gives the blow.
_Verses to his Friend under Affliction._
    Heaven is not always angry when he strikes,
    But most chastises those whom most he likes.
_Verses to his Friend under Affliction._
JONATHAN SWIFT. 1667-1745.
    I 've often wish'd that I had clear,
    For life, six hundred pounds a year;
    A handsome house to lodge a friend;
    A river at my garden's end;
    A terrace walk, and half a rood
    Of land set out to plant a wood.
_Imitation of Horace, Book ii. Sat. 6._
    So geographers, in Afric maps,
    With savage pictures fill their gaps,
    And o'er unhabitable downs
    Place elephants for want of towns.
_Poetry, a Rhapsody._
    Where Young must torture his invention
    To flatter knaves, or lose his pension.
_Poetry, a Rhapsody._
    Hobbes clearly proves that every creature
    Lives in a state of war by nature.
_Poetry, a Rhapsody._
    So, naturalists observe, a flea
    Has smaller fleas that on him prey;
    And these have smaller still to bite 'em;
    And so proceed _ad infinitum_.
_Poetry, a Rhapsody._
    Libertas et natale solum:
    Fine words! I wonder where you stole 'em.
_Verses occasioned by Whitshed's Motto on his Coach._
    A college joke to cure the dumps.
_Cassinus and Peter._
    'T is an old maxim in the schools,
    That flattery 's the food of fools;
    Yet now and then your men of wit
    Will condescend to take a bit.
_Cadenus and Vanessa._
     Hail fellow, well met.
_My Lady's Lamentation._
     Big-endians and small-endians.
_Gulliver's Travels. Part i. Chap. iv. Voyage to Lilliput._
     And he gave it for his opinion, that whoever could make two ears
     of corn, or two blades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground
     where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind, and
     do more essential service to his country, than the whole race of
     politicians put together.
_Gulliver's Travels. Part ii. Chap. vii. Voyage to Brobdingnag._
     He had been eight years upon a project for extracting sunbeams
     out of cucumbers, which were to be put in phials hermetically
     sealed, and let out to warm the air in raw inclement summers.
_Gulliver's Travels. Part iii. Chap. v. Voyage to Laputa._
     It is a maxim, that those to whom everybody allows the second
     place have an undoubted title to the first.
_Tale of a Tub. Dedication._
     Seamen have a custom, when they meet a whale, to fling him out an
     empty tub by way of amusement, to divert him from laying violent
     hands upon the ship.
_Tale of a Tub. Preface._
     Bread is the staff of life.
_Tale of a Tub. Preface._
     Books, the children of the brain.
_Tale of a Tub. Sect. i._
     As boys do sparrows, with flinging salt upon their tails.
_Tale of a Tub. Sect. vii._
     He made it a part of his religion never to say grace to his meat.
_Tale of a Tub. Sect. xi._
     How we apples swim!
_Brother Protestants._
     The two noblest things, which are sweetness and light.
_Battle of the Books._
     The reason why so few marriages are happy is because young ladies
     spend their time in making nets, not in making cages.
_Thoughts on Various Subjects._
     Censure is the tax a man pays to the public for being eminent.
_Thoughts on Various Subjects._
     A nice man is a man of nasty ideas.
_Thoughts on Various Subjects._
     If Heaven had looked upon riches to be a valuable thing, it would
     not have given them to such a scoundrel.
_Letter to Miss Vanbromrigh, Aug. 12, 1720._
     Not die here in a rage, like a poisoned rat in a hole.
_Letter to Bolingbroke, March 21, 1729._
     A penny for your thoughts.
_Introduction to Polite Conversation._
     Do you think I was born in a wood to be afraid of an owl?
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue i._
     The sight of you is good for sore eyes.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue i._
     'T is as cheap sitting as standing.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue i._
     I hate nobody: I am in charity with the world.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue i._
     I won't quarrel with my bread and butter.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue i._
     She 's no chicken; she 's on the wrong side of thirty, if she be
     a day.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue i._
     She looks as if butter wou'dn't melt in her mouth.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue i._
     If it had been a bear it would have bit you.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue i._
     She wears her clothes as if they were thrown on with a pitchfork.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue i._
     I mean you lie--under a mistake.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue i._
    _Lord M._  What religion is he of?
    _Lord Sp._ Why, he is an Anythingarian.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue i._
     He was a bold man that first eat an oyster.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue ii._
     That is as well said as if I had said it myself.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue ii._
     You must take the will for the deed.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue ii._
     Fingers were made before forks, and hands before knives.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue ii._
     She has more goodness in her little finger than he has in his
     whole body.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue ii._
     Lord! I wonder what fool it was that first invented kissing.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue ii._
     They say a carpenter 's known by his chips.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue ii._
     The best doctors in the world are Doctor Diet, Doctor Quiet, and
     Doctor Merryman.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue ii._
     I 'll give you leave to call me anything, if you don't call me
     "spade."
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue ii._
     May you live all the days of your life.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue ii._
     I have fed like a farmer: I shall grow as fat as a porpoise.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue ii._
     I always like to begin a journey on Sundays, because I shall have
     the prayers of the Church to preserve all that travel by land or
     by water.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue ii._
     I know Sir John will go, though he was sure it would rain cats
     and dogs.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue ii._
     I thought you and he were hand-in-glove.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue ii._
     'T is happy for him that his father was before him.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue iii._
     There is none so blind as they that won't see.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue iii._
     She watches him as a cat would watch a mouse.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue iii._
     She pays him in his own coin.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue iii._
     There was all the world and his wife.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue iii._
     Sharp 's the word with her.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue iii._
     There 's two words to that bargain.
_Polite Conversation. Dialogue iii._
     I shall be like that tree,--I shall die at the top.
_Scott's Life of Swift._
WILLIAM CONGREVE. 1670-1729.
    Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,
    To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
_The Mourning Bride. Act i. Sc. 1._
    By magic numbers and persuasive sound.
_The Mourning Bride. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,
    Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
_The Mourning Bride. Act iii. Sc. 8._
    For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds,
    And though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
_The Mourning Bride. Act v. Sc. 12._
    If there 's delight in love, 't is when I see
    That heart which others bleed for, bleed for me.
_The Way of the World. Act iii. Sc. 12._
     Ferdinand Mendez Pinto was but a type of thee, thou liar of the
     first magnitude.
_Love for Love. Act ii. Sc. 5._
     I came up stairs into the world, for I was born in a
     cellar.
_Love for Love. Act ii. Sc. 7._
     Hannibal was a very pretty fellow in those days.
_The Old Bachelor. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure;
    Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.
_The Old Bachelor. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Defer not till to-morrow to be wise,
    To-morrow's sun to thee may never rise.
_Letter to Cobham._
SAMUEL GARTH.[295-3] 1670-1719.
    To die is landing on some silent shore
    Where billows never break, nor tempests roar;
    Ere well we feel the friendly stroke, 't is o'er.
_The Dispensary. Canto iii. Line 225._
    I see the right, and I approve it too,
    Condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue.
_Ovid, Metamorphoses, vii. 20_ (translated by Tate and Stonestreet,
edited by Garth).
    For all their luxury was doing good.
_Claremont. Line 149._
COLLEY CIBBER. 1671-1757.
    So mourn'd the dame of Ephesus her love,
    And thus the soldier arm'd with resolution
    Told his soft tale, and was a thriving wooer.
_Richard III._ (_altered_). _Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Now, by St. Paul, the work goes bravely on.
_Richard III._ (_altered_). _Act iii. Sc. 1._
    The aspiring youth that fired the Ephesian dome
    Outlives in fame the pious fool that rais'd it.
_Richard III._ (_altered_). _Act iii. Sc. 1._
    I 've lately had two spiders
    Crawling upon my startled hopes.
    Now though thy friendly hand has brush'd 'em from me,
    Yet still they crawl offensive to my eyes:
    I would have some kind friend to tread upon 'em.
_Richard III._ (_altered_). _Act iv. Sc. 3._
    Off with his head! so much for Buckingham!
_Richard III._ (_altered_). _Act iv. Sc. 3._
    And the ripe harvest of the new-mown hay
    Gives it a sweet and wholesome odour.
_Richard III._ (_altered_). _Act v. Sc. 3._
    With clink of hammers closing rivets up.
_Richard III._ (_altered_). _Act v. Sc. 3._
    Perish that thought! No, never be it said
    That Fate itself could awe the soul of Richard.
    Hence, babbling dreams! you threaten here in vain!
    Conscience, avaunt! Richard 's himself again!
    Hark! the shrill trumpet sounds to horse! away!
    My soul 's in arms, and eager for the fray.
_Richard III._ (_altered_). _Act v. Sc. 3._
    A weak invention of the enemy.
_Richard III._ (_altered_). _Act v. Sc. 3._
    As good be out of the world as out of the fashion.
_Love's Last Shift. Act ii._
     We shall find no fiend in hell can match the fury of a
     disappointed woman,--scorned, slighted, dismissed without a
     parting pang.
_Love's Last Shift. Act iv._
    Old houses mended,
    Cost little less than new before they 're ended.
_Prologue to the Double Gallant._
    Possession is eleven points in the law.
_Woman's Wit. Act i._
    Words are but empty thanks.
_Woman's Wit. Act v._
    This business will never hold water.
_She Wou'd and She Wou'd Not. Act iv._
    Losers must have leave to speak.
_The Rival Fools. Act i._
    Stolen sweets are best.
_The Rival Fools. Act i._
    The will for the deed.
_The Rival Fools. Act iii._
    Within one of her.
_The Rival Fools. Act v._
    I don't see it.
_The Careless Husband. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Persuasion tips his tongue whene'er he talks,
    And he has chambers in King's Bench walks.
SIR RICHARD STEELE. 1671-1729.
     Though her mien carries much more invitation than command, to
     behold her is an immediate check to loose behaviour; to love her
     was a liberal education.
_Tatler. No. 49._
     Will. Honeycomb calls these over-offended ladies the outrageously
     virtuous.
_Spectator. No. 266._
JOSEPH ADDISON. 1672-1719.
    The dawn is overcast, the morning lowers,
    And heavily in clouds brings on the day,
    The great, the important day, big with the fate
    Of Cato and of Rome.
_Cato. Act i. Sc. 1._
                  Thy steady temper, Portius,
    Can look on guilt, rebellion, fraud, and Cæsar,
    In the calm lights of mild philosophy.
_Cato. Act i. Sc. 1._
    'T is not in mortals to command success,
    But we 'll do more, Sempronius,--we 'll deserve it.
_Cato. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Blesses his stars and thinks it luxury.
_Cato. Act i. Sc. 4._
    'T 's pride, rank pride, and haughtiness of soul;
    I think the Romans call it stoicism.
_Cato. Act i. Sc. 4._
    Were you with these, my prince, you 'd soon forget
    The pale, unripened beauties of the north.
_Cato. Act i. Sc. 4._
    Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover,
    Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense.
    The virtuous Marcia towers above her sex.
_Cato. Act i. Sc. 4._
                My voice is still for war.
    Gods! can a Roman senate long debate
    Which of the two to choose, slavery or death?
_Cato. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,
    And Scipio's ghost walks unaveng'd amongst us!
_Cato. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty
    Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.
_Cato. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    The woman that deliberates is lost.
_Cato. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Curse all his virtues! they 've undone his country.
_Cato. Act iv. Sc. 4._
                          What a pity is it
    That we can die but once to save our country!
_Cato. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway,
    The post of honour is a private station.
_Cato. Act iv. Sc. 4._
    It must be so,--Plato, thou reasonest well!
    Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
    This longing after immortality?
    Or whence this secret dread and inward horror
    Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul
    Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
    'T is the divinity that stirs within us;
    'T is Heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
    And intimates eternity to man.
    Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought!
_Cato. Act v. Sc. 1._
    I 'm weary of conjectures,--this must end 'em.
    Thus am I doubly armed: my death and life,
    My bane and antidote, are both before me:
    This in a moment brings me to an end;
    But this informs me I shall never die.
    The soul, secured in her existence, smiles
    At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
    The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
    Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years;
    But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
    Unhurt amidst the war of elements,
    The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds.
_Cato. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man.
_Cato. Act v. Sc. 4._
    From hence, let fierce contending nations know
    What dire effects from civil discord flow.
_Cato. Act v. Sc. 4._
    For wheresoe'er I turn my ravish'd eyes,
    Gay gilded scenes and shining prospects rise,
    Poetic fields encompass me around,
    And still I seem to tread on classic ground.
_A Letter from Italy._
    Unbounded courage and compassion join'd,
    Tempering each other in the victor's mind,
    Alternately proclaim him good and great,
    And make the hero and the man complete.
_The Campaign. Line 219._
    And, pleased the Almighty's orders to perform,
    Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm.
_The Campaign. Line 291._
    And those that paint them truest praise them most.
_The Campaign. Last line._
    The spacious firmament on high,
    With all the blue ethereal sky,
    And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
    Their great Original proclaim.
_Ode._
    Soon as the evening shades prevail,
    The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
    And nightly to the listening earth
    Repeats the story of her birth;
    While all the stars that round her burn,
    And all the planets in their turn,
    Confirm the tidings as they roll,
    And spread the truth from pole to pole.
_Ode._
    For ever singing as they shine,
    The hand that made us is divine.
_Ode._
    Should the whole frame of Nature round him break,
    In ruin and confusion hurled,
    He, unconcerned, would hear the mighty crack,
    And stand secure amidst a falling world.
_Horace. Ode iii. Book iii._
    In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow,
    Thou 'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow,
    Hast so much wit and mirth and spleen about thee,
    There is no living with thee, nor without thee.
_Spectator. No. 68._
    Much may be said on both sides.
_Spectator. No. 122._
    The Lord my pasture shall prepare,
    And feed me with a shepherd's care;
    His presence shall my wants supply,
    And guard me with a watchful eye.
_Spectator. No. 444._
    Round-heads and wooden-shoes are standing jokes.
_Prologue to The Drummer._
NICHOLAS ROWE. 1673-1718.
    As if Misfortune made the throne her seat,
    And none could be unhappy but the great.
_The Fair Penitent. Prologue._
    At length the morn and cold indifference came.
_The Fair Penitent. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Is she not more than painting can express,
    Or youthful poets fancy when they love?
_The Fair Penitent. Act iii. Sc. 1._
    Is this that haughty gallant, gay Lothario?
_The Fair Penitent. Act v. Sc. i._
ISAAC WATTS. 1674-1748.
    Whene'er I take my walks abroad,
      How many poor I see!
    What shall I render to my God
      For all his gifts to me?
_Divine Songs. Song iv._
    A flower, when offered in the bud,
      Is no vain sacrifice.
_Divine Songs. Song xii._
    And he that does one fault at first
      And lies to hide it, makes it two.
_Divine Songs. Song xv._
    Let dogs delight to bark and bite,
      For God hath made them so;
    Let bears and lions growl and fight,
      For 't is their nature too.
_Divine Songs. Song xvi._
    But, children, you should never let
      Such angry passions rise;
    Your little hands were never made
      To tear each other's eyes.
_Divine Songs. Song xvi._
    Birds in their little nests agree;
      And 't is a shameful sight
    When children of one family
      Fall out, and chide, and fight.
_Divine Songs. Song xvii._
    How doth the little busy bee
      Improve each shining hour,
    And gather honey all the day
      From every opening flower!
_Divine Songs. Song xx._
    For Satan finds some mischief still
      For idle hands to do.
_Divine Songs. Song xx._
    In books, or work, or healthful play.
_Divine Songs. Song xx._
    I have been there, and still would go;
    'T is like a little heaven below.
_Divine Songs. Song xxviii._
    Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber!
      Holy angels guard thy bed!
    Heavenly blessings without number
      Gently falling on thy head.
_A Cradle Hymn._
    'T is the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain,
    "You have wak'd me too soon, I must slumber again."
_The Sluggard._
    Lord, in the morning thou shalt hear
    My voice ascending high.
_Psalm v._
    From all who dwell below the skies
    Let the Creator's praise arise;
    Let the Redeemer's name be sung
    Through every land, by every tongue.
_Psalm cxvii._
    Fly, like a youthful hart or roe,
    Over the hills where spices grow.
_Hymns and Spiritual Songs. Book i. Hymn 79._
    And while the lamp holds out to burn,
    The vilest sinner may return.
_Hymns and Spiritual Songs. Book i. Hymn 88._
    Strange that a harp of thousand strings
    Should keep in tune so long!
_Hymns and Spiritual Songs. Book ii. Hymn 19._
    Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound.
_Hymns and Spiritual Songs. Book ii. Hymn 63._
    The tall, the wise, the reverend head
    Must lie as low as ours.
_Hymns and Spiritual Songs. Book ii. Hymn 63._
    When I can read my title clear
      To mansions in the skies,
    I 'll bid farewell to every fear,
      And wipe my weeping eyes.
_Hymns and Spiritual Songs. Book ii. Hymn 65._
    There is a land of pure delight,
      Where saints immortal reign;
    Infinite day excludes the night,
      And pleasures banish pain.
_Hymns and Spiritual Songs. Book ii. Hymn 66._
    So, when a raging fever burns,
    We shift from side to side by turns;
    And 't is a poor relief we gain
    To change the place, but keep the pain.
_Hymns and Spiritual Songs. Book ii. Hymn 146._
    Were I so tall to reach the pole,
      Or grasp the ocean with my span,
    I must be measured by my soul:
      The mind 's the standard of the man.
_Horæ Lyricæ. Book ii. False Greatness._
    To God the Father, God the Son,
    And God the Spirit, Three in One,
    Be honour, praise, and glory given
    By all on earth, and all in heaven.
_Doxology._
SIR ROBERT WALPOLE. 1676-1745.
     The balance of power.
_Speech, 1741._
     Flowery oratory he despised. He ascribed to the interested views
     of themselves or their relatives the declarations of pretended
     patriots, of whom he said, "All those men have their
     price."
COXE: _Memoirs of Walpole. Vol. iv. p. 369._
     Anything but history, for history must be false.
_Walpoliana. No. 141._
     The gratitude of place-expectants is a lively sense of future
     favours.
VISCOUNT BOLINGBROKE. 1678-1751.
     I have read somewhere or other,--in Dionysius of Halicarnassus, I
     think,--that history is philosophy teaching by examples.
_On the Study and Use of History. Letter 2._
     The dignity of history.
_On the Study and Use of History. Letter v._
     It is the modest, not the presumptuous, inquirer who makes a real
     and safe progress in the discovery of divine truths. One follows
     Nature and Nature's God; that is, he follows God in his works and
     in his word.
_Letter to Mr. Pope._
GEORGE FARQUHAR. 1678-1707.
     _Cos._ Pray now, what may be that same bed of honour?
     _Kite._ Oh, a mighty large bed! bigger by half than the great bed
     at Ware: ten thousand people may lie in it together, and never
     feel one another.
_The Recruiting Officer. Act i. Sc. 1._
     I believe they talked of me, for they laughed consumedly.
_The Beaux' Stratagem. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     'T was for the good of my country that I should be abroad.
_The Beaux' Stratagem. Act iii. Sc. 2._
     Necessity, the mother of invention.
_The Twin Rivals. Act i._
THOMAS PARNELL. 1679-1717.
    Still an angel appear to each lover beside,
    But still be a woman to you.
_When thy Beauty appears._
    Remote from man, with God he passed the days;
    Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.
_The Hermit. Line 5._
    We call it only pretty Fanny's way.
_An Elegy to an Old Beauty._
    Let those love now who never loved before;
    Let those who always loved, now love the more.
_Translation of the Pervigilium Veneris._
BARTON BOOTH. 1681-1733.
    True as the needle to the pole,
    Or as the dial to the sun.
_Song._
EDWARD YOUNG. 1684-1765.
    Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!
_Night thoughts. Night i. Line 1._
    Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne,
    In rayless majesty, now stretches forth
    Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world.
_Night thoughts. Night i. Line 18._
    Creation sleeps! 'T is as the general pulse
    Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause,
    An awful pause! prophetic of her end.
_Night thoughts. Night i. Line 23._
    The bell strikes one. We take no note of time
    But from its loss.
_Night thoughts. Night i. Line 55._
    Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour.
_Night thoughts. Night i. Line 67._
    To waft a feather or to drown a fly.
_Night thoughts. Night i. Line 154._
    Insatiate archer! could not one suffice?
    Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain;
    And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had filled her horn.
_Night thoughts. Night i. Line 212._
    Be wise to-day; 't is madness to defer.
_Night thoughts. Night i. Line 390._
    Procrastination is the thief of time.
_Night Thoughts. Night i. Line 393._
    At thirty, man suspects himself a fool;
    Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan.
_Night thoughts. Night i. Line 417._
    All men think all men mortal but themselves.
_Night thoughts. Night i. Line 424._
    He mourns the dead who lives as they desire.
_Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 24._
    And what its worth, ask death-beds; they can tell.
_Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 51._
    Thy purpose firm is equal to the deed:
    Who does the best his circumstance allows
    Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more.
_Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 90._
    "I 've lost a day!"--the prince who nobly cried,
    Had been an emperor without his crown.
_Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 99._
    Ah, how unjust to Nature and himself
    Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man!
_Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 112._
    The spirit walks of every day deceased.
_Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 180._
    Time flies, death urges, knells call, Heaven invites,
    Hell threatens.
_Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 292._
    Whose yesterdays look backwards with a smile.
_Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 334._
    'T is greatly wise to talk with our past hours,
    And ask them what report they bore to heaven.
_Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 376._
                     Thoughts shut up want air,
    And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun.
_Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 466._
    How blessings brighten as they take their flight!
_Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 602._
    The chamber where the good man meets his fate
    Is privileg'd beyond the common walk
    Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.
_Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 633._
    A death-bed 's a detector of the heart.
_Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 641._
    Woes cluster. Rare are solitary woes;
    They love a train, they tread each other's heel.
_Night Thoughts. Night iii. Line 63._
                       Beautiful as sweet,
    And young as beautiful, and soft as young,
    And gay as soft, and innocent as gay!
_Night Thoughts. Night iii. Line 81._
    Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay;
    And if in death still lovely, lovelier there;
    Far lovelier! pity swells the tide of love.
_Night Thoughts. Night iii. Line 104._
    Heaven's Sovereign saves all beings but himself
    That hideous sight,--a naked human heart.
_Night Thoughts. Night iii. Line 226._
    The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave,
    The deep damp vault, the darkness and the worm.
_Night Thoughts. Night iv. Line 10._
    Man makes a death which Nature never made.
_Night Thoughts. Night iv. Line 15._
    And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one.
_Night Thoughts. Night iv. Line 17._
    Wishing, of all employments, is the worst.
_Night Thoughts. Night iv. Line 71._
    Man wants but little, nor that little long.
_Night Thoughts. Night iv. Line 118._
    A God all mercy is a God unjust.
_Night Thoughts. Night iv. Line 233._
    'T is impious in a good man to be sad.
_Night Thoughts. Night iv. Line 676._
    A Christian is the highest style of man.
_Night Thoughts. Night iv. Line 788._
    Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.
_Night Thoughts. Night iv. Line 843._
    By night an atheist half believes a God.
_Night Thoughts. Night v. Line 177._
    Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew,
    She sparkled, was exhal'd and went to heaven.
_Night Thoughts. Night v. Line 600._
    We see time's furrows on another's brow,
    And death intrench'd, preparing his assault;
    How few themselves in that just mirror see!
_Night Thoughts. Night v. Line 627._
                       Like our shadows,
    Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
_Night Thoughts. Night v. Line 661._
    While man is growing, life is in decrease;
    And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb.
    Our birth is nothing but our death begun.
_Night Thoughts. Night v. Line 717._
    That life is long which answers life's great end.
_Night Thoughts. Night v. Line 773._
    The man of wisdom is the man of years.
_Night Thoughts. Night v. Line 775._
    Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.
_Night Thoughts. Night v. Line 1011._
    Pygmies are pygmies still, though percht on Alps;
    And pyramids are pyramids in vales.
    Each man makes his own stature, builds himself.
    Virtue alone outbuilds the Pyramids;
    Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall.
_Night Thoughts. Night vi. Line 309._
    And all may do what has by man been done.
_Night Thoughts. Night vi. Line 606._
    The man that blushes is not quite a brute.
_Night Thoughts. Night vii. Line 496._
    Too low they build, who build beneath the stars.
_Night Thoughts. Night viii. Line 215._
    Prayer ardent opens heaven.
_Night Thoughts. Night viii. Line 721._
    A man of pleasure is a man of pains.
_Night Thoughts. Night viii. Line 793._
    To frown at pleasure, and to smile in pain.
_Night Thoughts. Night viii. Line 1045._
                       Final Ruin fiercely drives
    Her ploughshare o'er creation.
_Night Thoughts. Night ix. Line 167._
    'T is elder Scripture, writ by God's own hand,
    Scripture authentic! uncorrupt by man.
_Night Thoughts. Night ix. Line 644._
    An undevout astronomer is mad.
_Night Thoughts. Night ix. Line 771._
    The course of Nature is the art of God.
_Night Thoughts. Night ix. Line 1267._
    The love of praise, howe'er conceal'd by art,
    Reigns more or less, and glows in ev'ry heart.
_Love of Fame. Satire i. Line 51._
    Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote,
    And think they grow immortal as they quote.
_Love of Fame. Satire i. Line 89._
    Titles are marks of honest men, and wise;
    The fool or knave that wears a title lies.
_Love of Fame. Satire i. Line 145._
    They that on glorious ancestors enlarge,
    Produce their debt instead of their discharge.
_Love of Fame. Satire i. Line 147._
    None think the great unhappy but the great.
_Love of Fame. Satire i. Line 238._
    Unlearned men of books assume the care,
    As eunuchs are the guardians of the fair.
_Love of Fame. Satire ii. Line 83._
    The booby father craves a booby son,
    And by Heaven's blessing thinks himself undone.
_Love of Fame. Satire ii. Line 165._
    Where Nature's end of language is declin'd,
    And men talk only to conceal the mind.
_Love of Fame. Satire ii. Line 207._
                          Be wise with speed;
    A fool at forty is a fool indeed.
_Love of Fame. Satire ii. Line 282._
    And waste their music on the savage race.
_Love of Fame. Satire v. Line 228._
    For her own breakfast she 'll project a scheme,
    Nor take her tea without a stratagem.
_Love of Fame. Satire vi. Line 190._
    Think naught a trifle, though it small appear;
    Small sands the mountain, moments make the year,
    And trifles life.
_Love of Fame. Satire vi. Line 208._
    One to destroy is murder by the law,
    And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe;
    To murder thousands takes a specious name,
    War's glorious art, and gives immortal fame.
_Love of Fame. Satire vii. Line 55._
    How commentators each dark passage shun,
    And hold their farthing candle to the sun.
_Love of Fame. Satire vii. Line 97._
    The man that makes a character makes foes.
_To Mr. Pope. Epistle i. Line 28._
    Their feet through faithless leather met the dirt,
    And oftener chang'd their principles than shirt.
_To Mr. Pope. Epistle i. Line 277._
    Accept a miracle instead of wit,
    See two dull lines with Stanhope's pencil writ.
_Lines written with the Diamond Pencil of Lord Chesterfield._
    Time elaborately thrown away.
_The Last Day. Book i._
    There buds the promise of celestial worth.
_The Last Day. Book iii._
    In records that defy the tooth of time.
_The Statesman's Creed._
    Great let me call him, for he conquered me.
_The Revenge. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Souls made of fire, and children of the sun,
    With whom revenge is virtue.
_The Revenge. Act v. Sc. 2._
    The blood will follow where the knife is driven,
    The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear.
_The Revenge. Act v. Sc. 2._
    And friend received with thumps upon the back.
_Universal Passion._
BISHOP BERKELEY. 1684-1753.
    Westward the course of empire takes its way;
      The four first acts already past,
    A fifth shall close the drama with the day:
      Time's noblest offspring is the last.
_On the Prospect of Planting Arts and Learning in America._
    Our youth we can have but to-day,
    We may always find time to grow old.
_Can Love be controlled by Advice?_
     [Tar water] is of a nature so mild and benign and proportioned to
     the human constitution, as to warm without heating, to cheer but
     not inebriate.
_Siris. Par. 217._
JANE BRERETON. 1685-1740.
    The picture placed the busts between
      Adds to the thought much strength;
    Wisdom and Wit are little seen,
      But Folly 's at full length.
_On Beau Nash's Picture at full length between the Busts of Sir Isaac
Newton and Mr. Pope._
AARON HILL. 1685-1750.
    First, then, a woman will or won't, depend on 't;
    If she will do 't, she will; and there 's an end on 't.
    But if she won't, since safe and sound your trust is,
    Fear is affront, and jealousy injustice.
_Zara. Epilogue._
    Tender-handed stroke a nettle,
      And it stings you for your pains;
    Grasp it like a man of mettle,
      And it soft as silk remains.
    'T is the same with common natures:
      Use 'em kindly, they rebel;
    But be rough as nutmeg-graters,
      And the rogues obey you well.
_Verses written on a window in Scotland._
THOMAS TICKELL. 1686-1740.
    Just men, by whom impartial laws were given;
    And saints who taught and led the way to heaven.
_On the Death of Mr. Addison. Line 41._
    Nor e'er was to the bowers of bliss conveyed
    A fairer spirit or more welcome shade.
_On the Death of Mr. Addison. Line 45._
    There taught us how to live; and (oh, too high
    The price for knowledge!) taught us how to die.
_On the Death of Mr. Addison. Line 81._
    The sweetest garland to the sweetest maid.
_To a Lady with a Present of Flowers._
    I hear a voice you cannot hear,
      Which says I must not stay;
    I see a hand you cannot see,
      Which beckons me away.
_Colin and Lucy._
SAMUEL MADDEN. 1687-1765.
    Some write their wrongs in marble: he more just,
    Stoop'd down serene and wrote them in the dust,
    Trod under foot, the sport of every wind,
    Swept from the earth and blotted from his mind.
    There, secret in the grave, he bade them lie,
    And grieved they could not 'scape the Almighty eye.
_Boulter's Monument._
    Words are men's daughters, but God's sons are things.
_Boulter's Monument._
ALEXANDER POPE. 1688-1744.
    Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things
    To low ambition and the pride of kings.
    Let us (since life can little more supply
    Than just to look about us, and to die)
    Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man;
    A mighty maze! but not without a plan.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 1._
    Together let us beat this ample field,
    Try what the open, what the covert yield.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 9._
    Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies,
    And catch the manners living as they rise;
    Laugh where we must, be candid where we can,
    But vindicate the ways of God to man.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 13._
    Say first, of God above or man below,
    What can we reason but from what we know?
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 17._
    'T is but a part we see, and not a whole.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 60._
    Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate,
    All but the page prescrib'd, their present state.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 77._
    Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food,
    And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 83._
    Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,
    A hero perish or a sparrow fall,
    Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd,
    And now a bubble burst, and now a world.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 87._
    Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
    Man never is, but always to be blest.
    The soul, uneasy and confined from home,
    Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 95._
    Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind
    Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
    His soul proud Science never taught to stray
    Far as the solar walk or milky way.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 99._
    But thinks, admitted to that equal sky,
    His faithful dog shall bear him company.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 111._
    In pride, in reasoning pride, our error lies;
    All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies.
    Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes:
    Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
    Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell,
    Aspiring to be angels, men rebel.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 123._
    Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise;
    My footstool earth, my canopy the skies.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 139._
    Why has not man a microscopic eye?
    For this plain reason,--man is not a fly.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 193._
    Die of a rose in aromatic pain.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 200._
    The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine!
    Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 217._
    Remembrance and reflection how allied!
    What thin partitions sense from thought divide!
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 225._
    All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
    Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 267._
    Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
    Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 271._
    As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns
    As the rapt seraph that adores and burns:
    To Him no high, no low, no great, no small;
    He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all!
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 277._
    All nature is but art, unknown to thee;
    All chance, direction, which thou canst not see;
    All discord, harmony not understood;
    All partial evil, universal good;
    And spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,
    One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.
_Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 289._
    Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;
    The proper study of mankind is man.
_Essay on Man. Epistle ii. Line 1._
    Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;
    Still by himself abused or disabused;
    Created half to rise, and half to fall;
    Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;
    Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled,
    The glory, jest, and riddle of the world.
_Essay on Man. Epistle ii. Line 13._
    Fix'd like a plant on his peculiar spot,
    To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot.
_Essay on Man. Epistle ii. Line 63._
    In lazy apathy let stoics boast
    Their virtue fix'd: 't is fix'd as in a frost;
    Contracted all, retiring to the breast;
    But strength of mind is exercise, not rest.
_Essay on Man. Epistle ii. Line 101._
    On life's vast ocean diversely we sail,
    Reason the card, but passion is the gale.
_Essay on Man. Epistle ii. Line 107._
    And hence one master-passion in the breast,
    Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest.
_Essay on Man. Epistle ii. Line 131._
    The young disease, that must subdue at length,
    Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength.
_Essay on Man. Epistle ii. Line 135._
    Extremes in nature equal ends produce;
    In man they join to some mysterious use.
_Essay on Man. Epistle ii. Line 205._
    Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
    As to be hated needs but to be seen;
    Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
    We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
_Essay on Man. Epistle ii. Line 217._
    Ask where 's the North? At York 't is on the Tweed;
    In Scotland at the Orcades; and there,
    At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where.
_Essay on Man. Epistle ii. Line 222._
    Virtuous and vicious every man must be,
    Few in the extreme, but all in the degree.
_Essay on Man. Epistle ii. Line 231._
    Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.
    Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,
    Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw;
    Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
    A little louder, but as empty quite;
    Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,
    And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age.
    Pleased with this bauble still, as that before,
    Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.
_Essay on Man. Epistle ii. Line 274._
    While man exclaims, "See all things for my use!"
    "See man for mine!" replies a pamper'd goose.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iii. Line 45._
    Learn of the little nautilus to sail,
    Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iii. Line 177._
    The enormous faith of many made for one.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iii. Line 242._
    For forms of government let fools contest;
    Whate'er is best administer'd is best.
    For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight;
    His can't be wrong whose life is in the right.
    In faith and hope the world will disagree,
    But all mankind's concern is charity.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iii. Line 303._
    O happiness! our being's end and aim!
    Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate'er thy name:
    That something still which prompts the eternal sigh,
    For which we bear to live, or dare to die.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 1._
    Order is Heaven's first law.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 49._
    Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,
    Lie in three words,--health, peace, and competence.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 79._
    The soul's calm sunshine and the heartfelt joy.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 168._
    Honour and shame from no condition rise;
    Act well your part, there all the honour lies.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 193._
    Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;
    The rest is all but leather or prunello.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 203._
    What can ennoble sots or slaves or cowards?
    Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 215._
    A wit 's a feather, and a chief a rod;
    An honest man 's the noblest work of God.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 247._
    Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart.
    One self-approving hour whole years outweighs
    Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas;
    And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels
    Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels.
    In parts superior what advantage lies?
    Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise?
    'T is but to know how little can be known;
    To see all others' faults, and feel our own.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 254._
    Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land?
    All fear, none aid you, and few understand.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 261._
    If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shin'd,
    The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind!
    Or ravish'd with the whistling of a name,
    See Cromwell, damn'd to everlasting fame!
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 281._
    Know then this truth (enough for man to know),
    "Virtue alone is happiness below."
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 309._
    Never elated when one man 's oppress'd;
    Never dejected while another 's bless'd.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 323._
    Slave to no sect, who takes no private road,
    But looks through Nature up to Nature's God.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 331._
    Form'd by thy converse, happily to steer
    From grave to gay, from lively to severe.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 379._
    Say, shall my little bark attendant sail,
    Pursue the triumph and partake the gale?
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 385._
    Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 390._
    That virtue only makes our bliss below,
    And all our knowledge is ourselves to know.
_Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 397._
    To observations which ourselves we make,
    We grow more partial for th' observer's sake.
_Moral Essays. Epistle i. Line 11._
    Like following life through creatures you dissect,
    You lose it in the moment you detect.
_Moral Essays. Epistle i. Line 20._
    In vain sedate reflections we would make
    When half our knowledge we must snatch, not take.
_Moral Essays. Epistle i. Line 39._
    Not always actions show the man; we find
    Who does a kindness is not therefore kind.
_Moral Essays. Epistle i. Line 109._
    Who combats bravely is not therefore brave,
    He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave:
    Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise,
    His pride in reasoning, not in acting lies.
_Moral Essays. Epistle i. Line 115._
    'T is from high life high characters are drawn;
    A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn.
_Moral Essays. Epistle i. Line 135._
    'T is education forms the common mind:
    Just as the twig is bent the tree 's inclined.
_Moral Essays. Epistle i. Line 149._
    Manners with fortunes, humours turn with climes,
    Tenets with books, and principles with times.
_Moral Essays. Epistle i. Line 172._
    "Odious! in woollen! 't would a saint provoke,"
    Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke.
_Moral Essays. Epistle i. Line 246._
    And you, brave Cobham! to the latest breath
    Shall feel your ruling passion strong in death.
_Moral Essays. Epistle i. Line 262._
    Whether the charmer sinner it or saint it,
    If folly grow romantic, I must paint it.
_Moral Essays. Epistle ii. Line 15._
    Choose a firm cloud before it fall, and in it
    Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute.
_Moral Essays. Epistle ii. Line 19._
    Fine by defect, and delicately weak.
_Moral Essays. Epistle ii. Line 43._
    With too much quickness ever to be taught;
    With too much thinking to have common thought.
_Moral Essays. Epistle ii. Line 97._
    Atossa, cursed with every granted prayer,
    Childless with all her children, wants an heir;
    To heirs unknown descends the unguarded store,
    Or wanders heaven-directed to the poor.
_Moral Essays. Epistle ii. Line 147._
    Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour,
    Content to dwell in decencies forever.
_Moral Essays. Epistle ii. Line 163._
    Men, some to business, some to pleasure take;
    But every woman is at heart a rake.
_Moral Essays. Epistle ii. Line 215._
    See how the world its veterans rewards!
    A youth of frolics, an old age of cards.
_Moral Essays. Epistle ii. Line 243._
    Oh, blest with temper whose unclouded ray
    Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day!
_Moral Essays. Epistle ii. Line 257._
    Most women have no characters at all.
_Moral Essays. Epistle ii. Line 2._
    She who ne'er answers till a husband cools,
    Or if she rules him, never shows she rules.
_Moral Essays. Epistle ii. Line 261._
    And mistress of herself though china fall.
_Moral Essays. Epistle ii. Line 268._
    Woman 's at best a contradiction still.
_Moral Essays. Epistle ii. Line 270._
    Who shall decide when doctors disagree,
    And soundest casuists doubt, like you and me?
_Moral Essays. Epistle iii. Line 1._
    Blest paper-credit! last and best supply!
    That lends corruption lighter wings to fly.
_Moral Essays. Epistle iii. Line 39._
    _P._ What riches give us let us then inquire:
    Meat, fire, and clothes. _B._ What more?
    _P._ Meat, fine clothes, and fire.
_Moral Essays. Epistle iii. Line 79._
    But thousands die without or this or that,
    Die, and endow a college or a cat.
_Moral Essays. Epistle iii. Line 95._
    The ruling passion, be it what it will,
    The ruling passion conquers reason still.
_Moral Essays. Epistle iii. Line 153._
    Extremes in Nature equal good produce;
    Extremes in man concur to general use.
_Moral Essays. Epistle iii. Line 161._
    Rise, honest muse! and sing The Man of Ross.
_Moral Essays. Epistle iii. Line 250._
    Ye little stars! hide your diminish'd rays.
_Moral Essays. Epistle iii. Line 282._
    Who builds a church to God and not to fame,
    Will never mark the marble with his name.
_Moral Essays. Epistle iii. Line 285._
    In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung.
_Moral Essays. Epistle iii. Line 299._
    Where London's column, pointing at the skies,
    Like a tall bully, lifts the head and lies.
_Moral Essays. Epistle iii. Line 339._
    Good sense, which only is the gift of Heaven,
    And though no science, fairly worth the seven.
_Moral Essays. Epistle iv. Line 43._
    To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite,
    Who never mentions hell to ears polite.
_Moral Essays. Epistle iv. Line 149._
    Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere,
    In action faithful, and in honour clear;
    Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end,
    Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend.
_Epistle to Mr. Addison. Line 67._
    'T is with our judgments as our watches,--none
    Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
_Essay on Criticism. Part i. Line 9._
    One science only will one genius fit:
    So vast is art, so narrow human wit.
_Essay on Criticism. Part i. Line 60._
    From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part,
    And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art.
_Essay on Criticism. Part i. Line 152._
    Those oft are stratagems which errors seem,
    Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
_Essay on Criticism. Part i. Line 177._
    Of all the causes which conspire to blind
    Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind;
    What the weak head with strongest bias rules,
    Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 1._
    A little learning is a dangerous thing;
    Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:
    There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
    And drinking largely sobers us again.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 15._
    Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 32._
    Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see,
    Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 53._
    True wit is Nature to advantage dress'd,
    What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 97._
    Words are like leaves; and where they most abound,
    Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 109._
    Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style,
    Amaze th' unlearn'd and make the learned smile.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 126._
    In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold,
    Alike fantastic if too new or old:
    Be not the first by whom the new are tried,
    Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 133._
                         Some to church repair,
    Not for the doctrine, but the music there.
    These equal syllables alone require,
    Though oft the ear the open vowels tire;
    While expletives their feeble aid to join,
    And ten low words oft creep in one dull line.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 142._
    A needless Alexandrine ends the song,
    That like a wounded snake drags its slow length along.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 156._
    True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
    As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
    'T is not enough no harshness gives offence,
    The sound must seem an echo to the sense.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 162._
    Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows,
    And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows;
    But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
    The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar.
    When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,
    The line too labours, and the words move slow:
    Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,
    Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 166._
    Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move;
    For fools admire, but men of sense approve.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 190._
    But let a lord once own the happy lines,
    How the wit brightens! how the style refines!
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 220._
    Envy will merit as its shade pursue,
    But like a shadow proves the substance true.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 266._
    To err is human, to forgive divine.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 325._
    All seems infected that th' infected spy,
    As all looks yellow to the jaundic'd eye.
_Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 358._
    And make each day a critic on the last.
_Essay on Criticism. Part iii. Line 12._
    Men must be taught as if you taught them not,
    And things unknown propos'd as things forgot.
_Essay on Criticism. Part iii. Line 15._
    The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read,
    With loads of learned lumber in his head.
_Essay on Criticism. Part iii. Line 53._
          Most authors steal their works, or buy;
    Garth did not write his own Dispensary.
_Essay on Criticism. Part iii. Line 59._
    For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
_Essay on Criticism. Part iii. Line 66._
    Led by the light of the Mæonian star.
_Essay on Criticism. Part iii. Line 89._
    Content if hence th' unlearn'd their wants may view,
    The learn'd reflect on what before they knew.
_Essay on Criticism. Part iii. Line 180._
    What dire offence from amorous causes springs!
    What mighty contests rise from trivial things!
_The Rape of the Lock. Canto i. Line 1._
    And all Arabia breathes from yonder box.
_The Rape of the Lock. Canto i. Line 134._
    On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore
    Which Jews might kiss, and infidels adore.
_The Rape of the Lock. Canto ii. Line 7._
    If to her share some female errors fall,
    Look on her face, and you 'll forget them all.
_The Rape of the Lock. Canto ii. Line 17._
    Fair tresses man's imperial race insnare,
    And beauty draws us with a single hair.
_The Rape of the Lock. Canto ii. Line 27._
    Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey,
    Dost sometimes counsel take--and sometimes tea.
_The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 7._
    At every word a reputation dies.
_The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 16._
    The hungry judges soon the sentence sign,
    And wretches hang that jurymen may dine.
_The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 21._
    Coffee, which makes the politician wise,
    And see through all things with his half-shut eyes.
_The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 117._
    The meeting points the sacred hair dissever
    From the fair head, forever, and forever!
_The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 153._
    Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain,
    And the nice conduct of a clouded cane.
_The Rape of the Lock. Canto iv. Line 123._
    Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
_The Rape of the Lock. Canto v. Line 34._
    Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigued, I said;
    Tie up the knocker! say I 'm sick, I 'm dead.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 1._
    Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand,
    They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 5._
    E'en Sunday shines no Sabbath day to me.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 12._
    Is there a parson much bemused in beer,
    A maudlin poetess, a rhyming peer,
    A clerk foredoom'd his father's soul to cross,
    Who pens a stanza when he should engross?
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 15._
    Friend to my life, which did not you prolong,
    The world had wanted many an idle song.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 27._
    Obliged by hunger and request of friends.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 44._
    Fired that the house rejects him, "'Sdeath! I 'll print it,
    And shame the fools."
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 61._
    No creature smarts so little as a fool.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 84._
    Destroy his fib or sophistry--in vain!
    The creature 's at his dirty work again.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 91._
    As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame,
    I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 127._
    Pretty! in amber to observe the forms
    Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms!
    The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare,
    But wonder how the devil they got there.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 169._
    Means not, but blunders round about a meaning;
    And he whose fustian 's so sublimely bad,
    It is not poetry, but prose run mad.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 186._
    Should such a man, too fond to rule alone,
    Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 197._
    Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
    And without sneering teach the rest to sneer;
    Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
    Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 201._
                          By flatterers besieg'd,
    And so obliging that he ne'er oblig'd;
    Like Cato, give his little senate laws,
    And sit attentive to his own applause.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 207._
    Who but must laugh, if such a man there be?
    Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 213._
    "On wings of winds came flying all abroad."
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 218._
    Cursed be the verse, how well so e'er it flow,
    That tends to make one worthy man my foe.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 283._
    Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?
    Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 307._
    Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,
    As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 315._
    Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 333._
    That not in fancy's maze he wander'd long,
    But stoop'd to truth, and moraliz'd his song.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 340._
    Me let the tender office long engage
    To rock the cradle of reposing age;
    With lenient arts extend a mother's breath,
    Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death;
    Explore the thought, explain the asking eye,
    And keep awhile one parent from the sky.
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 408._
    Lord Fanny spins a thousand such a day.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Satire i. Book ii. Line 6._
    Satire 's my weapon, but I 'm too discreet
    To run amuck, and tilt at all I meet.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Satire i. Book ii. Line 69._
    But touch me, and no minister so sore;
    Whoe'er offends at some unlucky time
    Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme,
    Sacred to ridicule his whole life long,
    And the sad burden of some merry song.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Satire i. Book ii. Line 76._
    Bare the mean heart that lurks behind a star.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Satire i. Book ii. Line 110._
    There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl,
    The feast of reason and the flow of soul.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Satire i. Book ii. Line 127._
    For I, who hold sage Homer's rule the best,
    Welcome the coming, speed the going guest.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Satire ii. Book ii. Line 159._
    Give me again my hollow tree,
    A crust of bread, and liberty.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Satire vi. Book ii. Line 220._
    Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epilogue to the Satires. Dialogue
i. Line 136._
    To Berkeley every virtue under heaven.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epilogue to the Satires. Dialogue
ii. Line 73._
    When the brisk minor pants for twenty-one.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle i. Book i. Line 38._
    He 's armed without that 's innocent within.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle i. Book i. Line 94._
    Get place and wealth, if possible, with grace;
    If not, by any means get wealth and place.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle i. Book i. Line 103._
    Above all Greek, above all Roman fame.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle i. Book ii. Line 26._
    Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle i. Book ii. Line 35._
    The mob of gentlemen who wrote with ease.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle i. Book ii. Line 108._
    One simile that solitary shines
    In the dry desert of a thousand lines.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle i. Book ii. Line 111._
    Then marble soften'd into life grew warm,
    And yielding, soft metal flow'd to human form.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle i. Book ii. Line 147._
    Who says in verse what others say in prose.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle i. Book ii. Line 202._
    Waller was smooth; but Dryden taught to join
    The varying verse, the full resounding line,
    The long majestic march, and energy divine.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle i. Book ii. Line 267._
    E'en copious Dryden wanted or forgot
    The last and greatest art,--the art to blot.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle i. Book ii. Line 280._
    Who pants for glory finds but short repose:
    A breath revives him, or a breath o'erthrows.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle i. Book ii. Line 300._
    There still remains to mortify a wit
    The many-headed monster of the pit.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle i. Book ii. Line 304._
    Praise undeserv'd is scandal in disguise.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle i. Book ii. Line 413._
    Years following years steal something every day;
    At last they steal us from ourselves away.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle ii. Book ii. Line 72._
    The vulgar boil, the learned roast, an egg.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle ii. Book ii. Line 85._
    Words that wise Bacon or brave Raleigh spoke.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle ii. Book ii. Line 168._
    Grac'd as thou art with all the power of words,
    So known, so honour'd at the House of Lords.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Epistle vi. Book i. To Mr.
Murray._
    Vain was the chief's the sage's pride!
    They had no poet, and they died.
_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Odes. Book iv. Ode 9._
    Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night:
    God said, "Let Newton be!" and all was light.
_Epitaph intended for Sir Isaac Newton._
    Ye Gods! annihilate but space and time,
    And make two lovers happy.
_Martinus Scriblerus on the Art of Sinking in Poetry. Chap. xi._
    O thou! whatever title please thine ear,
    Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver!
    Whether thou choose Cervantes' serious air,
    Or laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy-chair.
_The Dunciad. Book i. Line 19._
    Poetic Justice, with her lifted scale,
    Where in nice balance truth with gold she weighs,
    And solid pudding against empty praise.
_The Dunciad. Book i. Line 52._
    Now night descending, the proud scene was o'er,
    But lived in Settle's numbers one day more.
_The Dunciad. Book i. Line 89._
    While pensive poets painful vigils keep,
    Sleepless themselves to give their readers sleep.
_The Dunciad. Book i. Line 93._
    Next o'er his books his eyes begin to roll,
    In pleasing memory of all he stole.
_The Dunciad. Book i. Line 127._
    Or where the pictures for the page atone,
    And Quarles is sav'd by beauties not his own.
_The Dunciad. Book i. Line 139._
    How index-learning turns no student pale,
    Yet holds the eel of science by the tail.
_The Dunciad. Book i. Line 279._
    And gentle Dulness ever loves a joke.
_The Dunciad. Book ii. Line 34._
    Another, yet the same.
_The Dunciad. Book iii. Line 90._
    Till Peter's keys some christen'd Jove adorn,
    And Pan to Moses lends his pagan horn.
_The Dunciad. Book iii. Line 109._
    All crowd, who foremost shall be damn'd to fame.
_The Dunciad. Book iii. Line 158._
    Silence, ye wolves! while Ralph to Cynthia howls,
    And makes night hideous;[331-3]--answer him, ye owls!
_The Dunciad. Book iii. Line 165._
    And proud his mistress' order to perform,
    Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm.
_The Dunciad. Book iii. Line 263._
    A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits.
_The Dunciad. Book iv. Line 90._
    How sweet an Ovid, Murray was our boast!
_The Dunciad. Book iv. Line 169._
    The right divine of kings to govern wrong.
_The Dunciad. Book iv. Line 188._
                           Stuff the head
    With all such reading as was never read:
    For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it,
    And write about it, goddess, and about it.
_The Dunciad. Book iv. Line 249._
    To happy convents bosom'd deep in vines,
    Where slumber abbots purple as their wines.
_The Dunciad. Book iv. Line 301._
    Led by my hand, he saunter'd Europe round,
    And gather'd every vice on Christian ground.
_The Dunciad. Book iv. Line 311._
    Judicious drank, and greatly daring din'd.
_The Dunciad. Book iv. Line 318._
    Stretch'd on the rack of a too easy chair,
    And heard thy everlasting yawn confess
    The pains and penalties of idleness.
_The Dunciad. Book iv. Line 342._
    E'en Palinurus nodded at the helm.
_The Dunciad. Book iv. Line 614._
    Religion blushing, veils her sacred fires,
    And unawares Morality expires.
    Nor public flame nor private dares to shine;
    Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine!
    Lo! thy dread empire Chaos is restor'd,
    Light dies before thy uncreating word;
    Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall,
    And universal darkness buries all.
_The Dunciad. Book iv. Line 649._
    Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid,
    Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid.
_Eloisa to Abelard. Line 51._
    Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
    And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.
_Eloisa to Abelard. Line 57._
    And truths divine came mended from that tongue.
_Eloisa to Abelard. Line 66._
    Curse on all laws but those which love has made!
    Love, free as air at sight of human ties,
    Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.
_Eloisa to Abelard. Line 74._
    And love the offender, yet detest the offence.
_Eloisa to Abelard. Line 192._
    How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
    The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
_Eloisa to Abelard. Line 207._
    One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight;
    Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight.
_Eloisa to Abelard. Line 273._
    See my lips tremble and my eyeballs roll,
    Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul.
_Eloisa to Abelard. Line 323._
    He best can paint them who shall feel them most.
_Eloisa to Abelard. Last line._
    Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruis'd,
    But as the world, harmoniously confus'd,
    Where order in variety we see,
    And where, though all things differ, all agree.
_Windsor Forest. Line 13._
    A mighty hunter, and his prey was man.
_Windsor Forest. Line 61._
    From old Belerium to the northern main.
_Windsor Forest. Line 316._
    Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favours call;
    She comes unlooked for if she comes at all.
_The Temple of Fame. Line 513._
    Unblemish'd let me live, or die unknown;
    O grant an honest fame, or grant me none!
_The Temple of Fame. Last line._
    I am his Highness' dog at Kew;
    Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
_On the Collar of a Dog._
    There, take (says Justice), take ye each a shell:
    We thrive at Westminster on fools like you;
    'T was a fat oyster,--live in peace,--adieu.
_Verbatim from Boileau._
    Father of all! in every age,
      In every clime adored,
    By saint, by savage, and by sage,
      Jehovah, Jove, or Lord.
_The Universal Prayer. Stanza 1._
    Thou great First Cause, least understood.
_The Universal Prayer. Stanza 2._
    And binding Nature fast in fate,
      Left free the human will.
_The Universal Prayer. Stanza 3._
    And deal damnation round the land.
_The Universal Prayer. Stanza 7._
    Teach me to feel another's woe,
      To hide the fault I see;
    That mercy I to others show,
      That mercy show to me.
_The Universal Prayer. Stanza 10._
    Happy the man whose wish and care
      A few paternal acres bound.
_Ode on Solitude._
    Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
      Thus unlamented let me die;
    Steal from the world, and not a stone
      Tell where I lie.
_Ode on Solitude._
    Vital spark of heavenly flame!
    Quit, O quit this mortal frame!
_The Dying Christian to his Soul._
    Hark! they whisper; angels say,
    Sister spirit, come away!
_The Dying Christian to his Soul._
    Tell me, my soul, can this be death?
_The Dying Christian to his Soul._
    Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
    O grave! where is thy victory?
    O death! where is thy sting?
_The Dying Christian to his Soul._
    What beckoning ghost along the moonlight shade
    Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
_To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. Line 1._
    Is there no bright reversion in the sky
    For those who greatly think, or bravely die?
_To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. Line 9._
    The glorious fault of angels and of gods.
_To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. Line 14._
    So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow
    For others' good, or melt at others' woe.
_To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. Line 45._
    By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd,
    By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd,
    By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd,
    By strangers honoured, and by strangers mourn'd!
_To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. Line 51._
    And bear about the mockery of woe
    To midnight dances and the public show.
_To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. Line 57._
    How lov'd, how honour'd once avails thee not,
    To whom related, or by whom begot;
    A heap of dust alone remains of thee:
    'T is all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
_To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. Line 71._
    Such were the notes thy once lov'd poet sung,
    Till death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue.
_Epistle to Robert, Earl of Oxford._
    Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide,
    Or gave his father grief but when he died.
_Epitaph on the Hon. S. Harcourt._
    The saint sustain'd it, but the woman died.
_Epitaph on Mrs. Corbet._
    Of manners gentle, of affections mild;
    In wit a man, simplicity a child.
_Epitaph on Gay._
    A brave man struggling in the storms of fate,
    And greatly falling with a falling state.
    While Cato gives his little senate laws,
    What bosom beats not in his country's cause?
_Prologue to Mr. Addison's Cato._
    The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole
    Can never be a mouse of any soul.
_The Wife of Bath. Her Prologue. Line 298._
    Love seldom haunts the breast where learning lies,
    And Venus sets ere Mercury can rise.
_The Wife of Bath. Her Prologue. Line 369._
    You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come;
    Knock as you please, there 's nobody at home.
_Epigram._
    For he lives twice who can at once employ
    The present well, and e'en the past enjoy.
_Imitation of Martial._
    Who dared to love their country, and be poor.
_On his Grotto at Twickenham._
    Party is the madness of many for the gain of a few.
_Thoughts on Various Subjects._
     I never knew any man in my life who could not bear another's
     misfortunes perfectly like a Christian.
_Thoughts on Various Subjects._
    Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring
    Of woes unnumber'd, heavenly goddess, sing!
_The Iliad of Homer. Book i. Line 1._
    The distant Trojans never injur'd me.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book i. Line 200._
    Words sweet as honey from his lips distill'd.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book i. Line 332._
    Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod,
    The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book i. Line 684._
    And unextinguish'd laughter shakes the skies.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book i. Line 771._
    Thick as autumnal leaves or driving sand.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book ii. Line 970._
    Chiefs who no more in bloody fights engage,
    But wise through time, and narrative with age,
    In summer-days like grasshoppers rejoice,
    A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book iii. Line 199._
    She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book iii. Line 208._
    Ajax the great . . .
    Himself a host.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book iii. Line 293._
    Plough the watery deep.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book iii. Line 357._
    The day shall come, that great avenging day
    Which Troy's proud glories in the dust shall lay,
    When Priam's powers and Priam's self shall fall,
    And one prodigious ruin swallow all.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book iv. Line 196._
    First in the fight and every graceful deed.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book iv. Line 295._
    The first in banquets, but the last in fight.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book iv. Line 401._
    Gods! How the son degenerates from the sire!
_The Iliad of Homer. Book iv. Line 451._
    With all its beauteous honours on its head.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book iv. Line 557._
    A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book v. Line 16._
    Not two strong men the enormous weight could raise,
    Such men as live in these degenerate days.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book v. Line 371._
    Whose little body lodg'd a mighty mind.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book v. Line 999._
    He held his seat,--a friend to human race.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book vi. Line 18._
    Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,
    Now green in youth, now withering on the ground;
    Another race the following spring supplies:
    They fall successive, and successive rise.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book vi. Line 181._
    Inflaming wine, pernicious to mankind.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book vi. Line 330._
    If yet not lost to all the sense of shame.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book vi. Line 350._
    'T is man's to fight, but Heaven's to give success.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book vi. Line 427._
    The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book vi. Line 467._
    Yet while my Hector still survives, I see
    My father, mother, brethren, all, in thee.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book vi. Line 544._
    Andromache! my soul's far better part.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book vi. Line 624._
    He from whose lips divine persuasion flows.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book vii. Line 143._
    Not hate, but glory, made these chiefs contend;
    And each brave foe was in his soul a friend.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book vii. Line 364._
    I war not with the dead.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book vii. Line 485._
    Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn,
    Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book viii. Line 1._
    As full-blown poppies, overcharg'd with rain,
    Decline the head, and drooping kiss the plain,
    So sinks the youth; his beauteous head, deprest
    Beneath his helmet, drops upon his breast.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book viii. Line 371._
    Who dares think one thing, and another tell,
    My heart detests him as the gates of hell.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book ix. Line 412._
    Life is not to be bought with heaps of gold:
    Not all Apollo's Pythian treasures hold,
    Or Troy once held, in peace and pride of sway,
    Can bribe the poor possession of a day.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book ix. Line 524._
    Short is my date, but deathless my renown.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book ix. Line 535._
    Injustice, swift, erect, and unconfin'd,
    Sweeps the wide earth, and tramples o'er mankind.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book ix. Line 628._
    A generous friendship no cold medium knows,
    Burns with one love, with one resentment glows.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book ix. Line 725._
    To labour is the lot of man below;
    And when Jove gave us life, he gave us woe.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book x. Line 78._
    Content to follow when we lead the way.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book x. Line 141._
    He serves me most who serves his country best.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book x. Line 201._
    Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe,
    Are lost on hearers that our merits know.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book x. Line 293._
    The rest were vulgar deaths, unknown to fame.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xi. Line 394._
    Without a sign his sword the brave man draws,
    And asks no omen but his country's cause.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xii. Line 283._
    The life which others pay let us bestow,
    And give to fame what we to nature owe.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xii. Line 393._
    And seem to walk on wings, and tread in air.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xiii. Line 106._
    The best of things beyond their measure cloy.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xiii. Line 795._
    To hide their ignominious heads in Troy.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xiv. Line 170._
    Persuasive speech, and more persuasive sighs,
    Silence that spoke, and eloquence of eyes.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xiv. Line 251._
    Heroes as great have died, and yet shall fall.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xv. Line 157._
    And for our country 't is a bliss to die.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xv. Line 583._
    Like strength is felt from hope and from despair.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xv. Line 852._
    Two friends, two bodies with one soul inspir'd.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xvi. Line 267._
    Dispel this cloud, the light of Heaven restore;
    Give me to see, and Ajax asks no more.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xvii. Line 730._
    The mildest manners, and the gentlest heart.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xvii. Line 756._
    In death a hero, as in life a friend!
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xvii. Line 758._
    Patroclus, lov'd of all my martial train,
    Beyond mankind, beyond myself, is slain!
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xviii. Line 103._
    I live an idle burden to the ground.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xviii. Line 134._
    Ah, youth! forever dear, forever kind.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xix. Line 303._
    Accept these grateful tears! for thee they flow,
    For thee, that ever felt another's woe!
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xix. Line 319._
    Where'er he mov'd, the goddess shone before.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xx. Line 127._
    The matchless Ganymed, divinely fair.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xx. Line 278._
                  'T is fortune gives us birth,
    But Jove alone endues the soul with worth.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xx. Line 290._
        Our business in the field of fight
    Is not to question, but to prove our might.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xx. Line 304._
    A mass enormous! which in modern days
    No two of earth's degenerate sons could raise.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xx. Line 337._
    The bitter dregs of fortune's cup to drain.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxii. Line 85._
    Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the best.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxii. Line 100._
    This, this is misery! the last, the worst
    That man can feel.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxii. Line 106._
    No season now for calm familiar talk.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxii. Line 169._
    Jove lifts the golden balances that show
    The fates of mortal men, and things below.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxii. Line 271._
    Achilles absent was Achilles still.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxii. Line 418._
    Forever honour'd, and forever mourn'd.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxii. Line 422._
    Unwept, unhonour'd, uninterr'd he lies!
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxii. Line 484._
    Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro
    In all the raging impotence of woe.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxii. Line 526._
    Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxii. Line 543._
    'T is true, 't is certain; man though dead retains
    Part of himself: the immortal mind remains.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxiii. Line 122._
    Base wealth preferring to eternal praise.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxiii. Line 368._
    It is not strength, but art, obtains the prize,
    And to be swift is less than to be wise.
    'T is more by art than force of num'rous strokes.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxiii. Line 383._
    A green old age,[341-4] unconscious of decays,
    That proves the hero born in better days.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxiii. Line 929._
    Two urns by Jove's high throne have ever stood,
    The source of evil one, and one of good.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxiv. Line 663._
    The mildest manners with the bravest mind.
_The Iliad of Homer. Book xxiv. Line 963._
                       Fly, dotard, fly!
    With thy wise dreams and fables of the sky.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book ii. Line 207._
    And what he greatly thought, he nobly dar'd.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book ii. Line 312._
                       Few sons attain the praise
    Of their great sires, and most their sires disgrace.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book ii. Line 315._
    For never, never, wicked man was wise.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book ii. Line 320._
    Urge him with truth to frame his fair replies;
    And sure he will: for Wisdom never lies.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iii. Line 25._
    The lot of man,--to suffer and to die.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iii. Line 117._
    A faultless body and a blameless mind.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iii. Line 138._
    The long historian of my country's woes.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iii. Line 142._
    Forgetful youth! but know, the Power above
    With ease can save each object of his love;
    Wide as his will extends his boundless grace.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iii. Line 285._
    When now Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
    With rosy lustre purpled o'er the lawn.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iii. Line 516._
    These riches are possess'd, but not enjoy'd!
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iv. Line 118._
    Mirror of constant faith, rever'd and mourn'd!
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iv. Line 229._
    There with commutual zeal we both had strove
    In acts of dear benevolence and love:
    Brothers in peace, not rivals in command.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iv. Line 241._
    The glory of a firm, capacious mind.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iv. Line 262._
    Wise to resolve, and patient to perform.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iv. Line 372._
    The leader, mingling with the vulgar host,
    Is in the common mass of matter lost.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iv. Line 397._
                O thou, whose certain eye foresees
    The fix'd events of fate's remote decrees.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iv. Line 627._
    Forget the brother, and resume the man.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iv. Line 732._
    Gentle of speech, beneficent of mind.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iv. Line 917._
    The people's parent, he protected all.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iv. Line 921._
    The big round tear stands trembling in her eye.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iv. Line 936._
    The windy satisfaction of the tongue.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book iv. Line 1092._
    Heaven hears and pities hapless men like me,
    For sacred ev'n to gods is misery.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book v. Line 572._
    The bank he press'd, and gently kiss'd the ground.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book v. Line 596._
    A heaven of charms divine Nausicaa lay.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book vi. Line 22._
    Jove weighs affairs of earth in dubious scales,
    And the good suffers while the bad prevails.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book vi. Line 229._
    By Jove the stranger and the poor are sent,
    And what to those we give, to Jove is lent.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book vi. Line 247._
    A decent boldness ever meets with friends.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book vii. Line 67._
    To heal divisions, to relieve th' opprest;
    In virtue rich; in blessing others, blest.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book vii. Line 95._
                             Oh, pity human woe!
    'T is what the happy to the unhappy owe.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book vii. Line 198._
    Whose well-taught mind the present age surpast.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book vii. Line 210._
    For fate has wove the thread of life with pain,
    And twins ev'n from the birth are misery and man!
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book vii. Line 263._
    In youth and beauty wisdom is but rare!
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book vii. Line 379._
                           And every eye
    Gaz'd, as before some brother of the sky.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book viii. Line 17._
    Nor can one word be chang'd but for a worse.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book viii. Line 192._
    And unextinguish'd laughter shakes the sky.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book viii. Line 366._
                            Behold on wrong
    Swift vengeance waits; and art subdues the strong!
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book viii. Line 367._
    A gen'rous heart repairs a sland'rous tongue.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book viii. Line 432._
    Just are the ways of Heaven: from Heaven proceed
    The woes of man; Heaven doom'd the Greeks to bleed,
    A theme of future song!
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book viii. Line 631._
    Earth sounds my wisdom and high heaven my fame.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book ix. Line 20._
    Strong are her sons, though rocky are her shores.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book ix. Line 28._
    Lotus, the name; divine, nectareous juice!
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book ix. Line 106._
    Respect us human, and relieve us poor.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book ix. Line 318._
    Rare gift! but oh what gift to fools avails!
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book x. Line 29._
                 Our fruitless labours mourn,
    And only rich in barren fame return.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book x. Line 46._
    No more was seen the human form divine.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book x. Line 278._
    And not a man appears to tell their fate.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book x. Line 308._
    Let him, oraculous, the end, the way,
    The turns of all thy future fate display.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book x. Line 642._
    Born but to banquet, and to drain the bowl.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book x. Line 662._
    Thin airy shoals of visionary ghosts.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xi. Line 48._
    Who ne'er knew salt, or heard the billows roar.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xi. Line 153._
    Heav'd on Olympus tott'ring Ossa stood;
    On Ossa, Pelion nods with all his wood.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xi. Line 387._
    The first in glory, as the first in place.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xi. Line 441._
    Soft as some song divine thy story flows.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xi. Line 458._
    Oh woman, woman! when to ill thy mind
    Is bent, all hell contains no fouler fiend.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xi. Line 531._
                      What mighty woes
    To thy imperial race from woman rose!
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xi. Line 541._
    But sure the eye of time beholds no name
    So blest as thine in all the rolls of fame.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xi. Line 591._
    And pines with thirst amidst a sea of waves.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xi. Line 722._
    Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xi. Line 736._
    There in the bright assemblies of the skies.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xi. Line 745._
    Gloomy as night he stands.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xi. Line 749._
    All, soon or late, are doom'd that path to tread.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xii. Line 31._
    And what so tedious as a twice-told tale.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xii. Line 538._
    He ceas'd; but left so pleasing on their ear
    His voice, that list'ning still they seem'd to hear.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xiii. Line 1._
    His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xiii. Line 38._
    And bear unmov'd the wrongs of base mankind,
    The last and hardest conquest of the mind.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xiii. Line 353._
    How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise!
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xiii. Line 375._
                             It never was our guise
    To slight the poor, or aught humane despise.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xiv. Line 65._
    The sex is ever to a soldier kind.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xiv. Line 246._
    Far from gay cities and the ways of men.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xiv. Line 410._
    And wine can of their wits the wise beguile,
    Make the sage frolic, and the serious smile.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xiv. Line 520._
    Who love too much, hate in the like extreme,
    And both the golden mean alike condemn.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xv. Line 79._
    True friendship's laws are by this rule exprest,
    Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xv. Line 83._
    For too much rest itself becomes a pain.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xv. Line 429._
    Discourse, the sweeter banquet of the mind.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xv. Line 433._
                          And taste
    The melancholy joy of evils past:
    For he who much has suffer'd, much will know.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xv. Line 434._
    For love deceives the best of womankind.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xv. Line 463._
    And would'st thou evil for his good repay?
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xvi. Line 448._
                              Whatever day
    Makes man a slave, takes half his worth away.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xvii. Line 392._
    In ev'ry sorrowing soul I pour'd delight,
    And poverty stood smiling in my sight.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xvii. Line 505._
    Unbless'd thy hand, if in this low disguise
    Wander, perhaps, some inmate of the skies.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xvii. Line 576._
    Know from the bounteous heaven all riches flow;
    And what man gives, the gods by man bestow.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xviii. Line 26._
    Yet taught by time, my heart has learn'd to glow
    For others' good, and melt at others' woe.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xviii. Line 269._
    A winy vapour melting in a tear.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xix. Line 143._
    But he whose inborn worth his acts commend,
    Of gentle soul, to human race a friend.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xix. Line 383._
    The fool of fate,--thy manufacture, man.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xx. Line 254._
    Impatient straight to flesh his virgin sword.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xx. Line 461._
    Dogs, ye have had your day!
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xxii. Line 41._
    For dear to gods and men is sacred song.
    Self-taught I sing; by Heaven, and Heaven alone,
    The genuine seeds of poesy are sown.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xxii. Line 382._
    So ends the bloody business of the day.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xxii. Line 516._
    And rest at last where souls unbodied dwell,
    In ever-flowing meads of Asphodel.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xxiv. Line 19._
    The ruins of himself! now worn away
    With age, yet still majestic in decay.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xxiv. Line 271._
    And o'er the past Oblivion stretch her wing.
_The Odyssey of Homer. Book xxiv. Line 557._
     Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be
     disappointed.
_Letter to Gay, Oct. 6, 1727._
    This is the Jew
    That Shakespeare drew.
JOHN GAY. 1688-1732.
    'T was when the sea was roaring
    With hollow blasts of wind,
    A damsel lay deploring,
    All on a rock reclin'd.
_The What d' ye call it. Act ii. Sc. 8._
    So comes a reckoning when the banquet 's o'er,
    The dreadful reckoning, and men smile no more.
_The What d' ye call it. Act ii. Sc. 9._
    'T is woman that seduces all mankind;
    By her we first were taught the wheedling arts.
_The Beggar's Opera. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Over the hills and far away.
_The Beggar's Opera. Act i. Sc. 1._
    If the heart of a man is depress'd with cares,
    The mist is dispell'd when a woman appears.
_The Beggar's Opera. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
_The Beggar's Opera. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Brother, brother! we are both in the wrong.
_The Beggar's Opera. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    How happy could I be with either,
    Were t' other dear charmer away!
_The Beggar's Opera. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    The charge is prepar'd, the lawyers are met,
    The judges all ranged,--a terrible show!
_The Beggar's Opera. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd.
_Sweet William's Farewell to Black-eyed Susan._
    Adieu, she cried, and waved her lily hand.
_Sweet William's Farewell to Black-eyed Susan._
    Remote from cities liv'd a swain,
    Unvex'd with all the cares of gain;
    His head was silver'd o'er with age,
    And long experience made him sage.
_Fables. Part i. The Shepherd and the Philosopher._
    Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil
    O'er books consum'd the midnight oil?
_Fables. Part i. The Shepherd and the Philosopher._
    Where yet was ever found a mother
    Who 'd give her booby for another?
_Fables. Part i. The Mother, the Nurse, and the Fairy._
    No author ever spar'd a brother.
_Fables. The Elephant and the Bookseller._
    Lest men suspect your tale untrue,
    Keep probability in view.
_Fables. Part i. The Painter who pleased Nobody and Everybody._
    In ev'ry age and clime we see
    Two of a trade can never agree.
_Fables. Part i. The Rat-catcher and Cats._
    Is there no hope? the sick man said;
    The silent doctor shook his head.
_Fables. Part i. The Sick Man and the Angel._
    While there is life there 's hope, he cried.
_Fables. Part i. The Sick Man and the Angel._
    Those who in quarrels interpose
    Must often wipe a bloody nose.
_Fables. Part i. The Mastiffs._
    That raven on yon left-hand oak
    (Curse on his ill-betiding croak!)
      Bodes me no good.
_Fables. Part i. The Farmer's Wife and the Raven._
    And when a lady 's in the case,
    You know all other things give place.
_Fables. Part i. The Hare and many Friends._
    Give me, kind Heaven, a private station,
    A mind serene for contemplation:
    Title and profit I resign;
    The post of honour shall be mine.
_Fables. Part ii. The Vulture, the Sparrow, and other Birds._
    From wine what sudden friendship springs!
_Fables. Part ii. The Squire and his Cur._
    Life is a jest, and all things show it;
    I thought so once, but now I know it.
_My own Epitaph._
LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU. 1690-1762.
    Let this great maxim be my virtue's guide,
    In part she is to blame that has been tried:
    He comes too near that comes to be denied.
_The Lady's Resolve._
    And we meet, with champagne and a chicken, at last.
_The Lover._
    Be plain in dress, and sober in your diet;
    In short, my deary, kiss me, and be quiet.
_A Summary of Lord Lyttelton's Advice._
    Satire should, like a polished razor keen,
    Wound with a touch that 's scarcely felt or seen.
_To the Imitator of the First Satire of Horace. Book ii._
    But the fruit that can fall without shaking
      Indeed is too mellow for me.
_The Answer._
CHARLES MACKLIN. 1690-1797.
     The law is a sort of hocus-pocus science, that smiles in yer face
     while it picks yer pocket; and the glorious uncertainty of it is
     of mair use to the professors than the justice of it.
_Love à la Mode. Act ii. Sc. 1._
     Every tub must stand upon its bottom.
_The Man of the World. Act i. Sc. 2._
JOHN BYROM. 1691-1763.
    God bless the King,--I mean the faith's defender!
    God bless--no harm in blessing--the Pretender!
    But who pretender is, or who is king,
    God bless us all!--that 's quite another thing.
_To an Officer of the Army, extempore._
    Take time enough: all other graces
    Will soon fill up their proper places.
_Advice to Preach Slow._
    Some say, compar'd to Bononcini,
    That Mynheer Handel 's but a ninny;
    Others aver that he to Handel
    Is scarcely fit to hold a candle.
    Strange all this difference should be
    'Twixt Tweedledum and Tweedledee.
_On the Feuds between Handel and Bononcini._
    As clear as a whistle.
_Epistle to Lloyd. I._
    The point is plain as a pike-staff.
_Epistle to a Friend._
    Bone and Skin, two millers thin,
      Would starve us all, or near it;
    But be it known to Skin and Bone
      That Flesh and Blood can't bear it.
_Epigram on Two Monopolists._
    Thus adorned, the two heroes, 'twixt shoulder and elbow,
    Shook hands and went to 't; and the word it was bilbow.
_Upon a Trial of Skill between the Great Masters of the Noble Science of
Defence, Messrs. Figg and Sutton._
LOUIS THEOBALD. 1691-1744.
    None but himself can be his parallel.
_The Double Falsehood._
JAMES BRAMSTON. ---- -1744.
    What 's not devoured by Time's devouring hand?
    Where 's Troy, and where 's the Maypole in the Strand?
_Art of Politics._
    But Titus said, with his uncommon sense,
    When the Exclusion Bill was in suspense:
    "I hear a lion in the lobby roar;
    Say, Mr. Speaker, shall we shut the door
    And keep him there, or shall we let him in
    To try if we can turn him out again?"
_Art of Politics._
    So Britain's monarch once uncovered sat,
    While Bradshaw bullied in a broad-brimmed hat.
_Man of Taste._
EARL OF CHESTERFIELD. 1694-1773.
     Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well.
_Letter, March 10, 1746._
     I knew once a very covetous, sordid fellow,[352-3] who used to
     say, "Take care of the pence, for the pounds will take care of
     themselves."
_Letter, Nov. 6, 1747._
     Sacrifice to the Graces.
_Letter, March 9, 1748._
     Manners must adorn knowledge, and smooth its way through the
     world. Like a great rough diamond, it may do very well in a
     closet by way of curiosity, and also for its intrinsic value.
_Letter, July 1, 1748._
     Style is the dress of thoughts.
_Letter, Nov. 24, 1749._
     Despatch is the soul of business.
_Letter, Feb. 5, 1750._
     Chapter of accidents.
_Letter, Feb. 16, 1753._
     I assisted at the birth of that most significant word
     "flirtation," which dropped from the most beautiful mouth in the
     world.
_The World. No. 101._
    Unlike my subject now shall be my song;
    It shall be witty, and it sha'n't be long.
_Impromptu Lines._
    The dews of the evening most carefully shun,
    Those tears of the sky for the loss of the sun.
_Advice to a Lady in Autumn._
     The nation looked upon him as a deserter, and he shrunk into
     insignificancy and an earldom.
_Character of Pulteney._
     He adorned whatever subject he either spoke or wrote upon, by the
     most splendid eloquence.
_Character of Bolingbroke._
MATTHEW GREEN. 1696-1737.
    Fling but a stone, the giant dies.
_The Spleen. Line 93._
    Thus I steer my bark, and sail
    On even keel, with gentle gale.
_The Spleen._
    Though pleased to see the dolphins play,
    I mind my compass and my way.
_The Spleen._
RICHARD SAVAGE. 1698-1743.
    He lives to build, not boast, a generous race;
    No tenth transmitter of a foolish face.
_The Bastard. Line 7._
    May see thee now, though late, redeem thy name,
    And glorify what else is damn'd to fame.
_Character of Foster._
ROBERT BLAIR. 1699-1747.
                  The Grave, dread thing!
    Men shiver when thou 'rt named: Nature, appall'd,
    Shakes off her wonted firmness.
_The Grave. Part i. Line 9._
    The schoolboy, with his satchel in his hand,
    Whistling aloud to bear his courage up.
_The Grave. Part i. Line 58._
    Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul!
    Sweetener of life! and solder of society!
_The Grave. Part i. Line 88._
                      Of joys departed,
    Not to return, how painful the remembrance!
_The Grave. Part i. Line 109._
                     The cup goes round:
    And who so artful as to put it by!
    'T is long since Death had the majority.
_The Grave. Part ii. Line 449._
                     The good he scorn'd
    Stalk'd off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost,
    Not to return; or if it did, in visits
    Like those of angels, short and far between.
_The Grave. Part ii. Line 586._
JAMES THOMSON. 1700-1748.
    Come, gentle Spring! ethereal Mildness! come.
_The Seasons. Spring. Line 1._
    Base Envy withers at another's joy,
    And hates that excellence it cannot reach.
_The Seasons. Spring. Line 283._
                  But who can paint
    Like Nature? Can imagination boast,
    Amid its gay creation, hues like hers?
_The Seasons. Spring. Line 465._
    Amid the roses fierce Repentance rears
    Her snaky crest.
_The Seasons. Spring. Line 996._
    Delightful task! to rear the tender thought,
    To teach the young idea how to shoot.
_The Seasons. Spring. Line 1149._
    An elegant sufficiency, content,
    Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books,
    Ease and alternate labour, useful life,
    Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven!
_The Seasons. Spring. Line 1158._
    The meek-ey'd Morn appears, mother of dews.
_The Seasons. Summer. Line 47._
    Falsely luxurious, will not man awake?
_The Seasons. Summer. Line 67._
    But yonder comes the powerful king of day,
    Rejoicing in the east.
_The Seasons. Summer. Line 81._
    Ships dim-discover'd dropping from the clouds.
_The Seasons. Summer. Line 946._
    And Mecca saddens at the long delay.
_The Seasons. Summer. Line 979._
    For many a day, and many a dreadful night,
    Incessant lab'ring round the stormy cape.
_The Seasons. Summer. Line 1003._
    Sigh'd and look'd unutterable things.
_The Seasons. Summer. Line 1188._
    A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate
    Of mighty monarchs.
_The Seasons. Summer. Line 1285._
    So stands the statue that enchants the world,
    So bending tries to veil the matchless boast,
    The mingled beauties of exulting Greece.
_The Seasons. Summer. Line 1346._
    Who stemm'd the torrent of a downward age.
_The Seasons. Summer. Line 1516._
    Autumn nodding o'er the yellow plain.
_The Seasons. Autumn. Line 2._
                                  Loveliness
    Needs not the foreign aid of ornament,
    But is when unadorn'd, adorn'd the most.
_The Seasons. Autumn. Line 204._
    He saw her charming, but he saw not half
    The charms her downcast modesty conceal'd.
_The Seasons. Autumn. Line 229._
    For still the world prevail'd, and its dread laugh,
    Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn.
_The Seasons. Autumn. Line 233._
    See, Winter comes to rule the varied year.
_The Seasons. Winter. Line 1._
    Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave.
_The Seasons. Winter. Line 393._
                  There studious let me sit,
    And hold high converse with the mighty dead.
_The Seasons. Winter. Line 431._
    The kiss, snatch'd hasty from the sidelong maid.
_The Seasons. Winter. Line 625._
    These as they change, Almighty Father! these
    Are but the varied God. The rolling year
    Is full of Thee.
_Hymn. Line 1._
    Shade, unperceiv'd, so softening into shade.
_Hymn. Line 25._
    From seeming evil still educing good.
_Hymn. Line 114._
    Come then, expressive silence, muse His praise.
_Hymn. Line 118._
    A pleasing land of drowsyhed it was,
    Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye;
    And of gay castles in the clouds that pass,
    Forever flushing round a summer sky:
    There eke the soft delights that witchingly
    Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast,
    And the calm pleasures always hover'd nigh;
    But whate'er smack'd of noyance or unrest
    Was far, far off expell'd from this delicious nest.
_The Castle of Indolence. Canto i. Stanza 6._
    O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,
    But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns,
    And heightens ease with grace.
_The Castle of Indolence. Canto i. Stanza 26._
    Plac'd far amid the melancholy main.
_The Castle of Indolence. Canto i. Stanza 30._
    Scoundrel maxim.
_The Castle of Indolence. Canto i. Stanza 30._
    A bard here dwelt, more fat than bard beseems.
_The Castle of Indolence. Canto i. Stanza 68._
    A little round, fat, oily man of God.
_The Castle of Indolence. Canto i. Stanza 69._
    I care not, Fortune, what you me deny:
    You cannot rob me of free Nature's grace,
    You cannot shut the windows of the sky
    Through which Aurora shows her brightening face;
    You cannot bar my constant feet to trace
    The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve:
    Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace,
    And I their toys to the great children leave:
    Of fancy, reason, virtue, naught can me bereave.
_The Castle of Indolence. Canto ii. Stanza 3._
    Health is the vital principle of bliss,
    And exercise, of health.
_The Castle of Indolence. Canto ii. Stanza 55._
    Forever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
    An unrelenting foe to love;
    And when we meet a mutual heart,
    Come in between and bid us part?
_Song._
                    Whoe'er amidst the sons
    Of reason, valour, liberty, and virtue
    Displays distinguish'd merit, is a noble
    Of Nature's own creating.
_Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    O Sophonisba! Sophonisba, O!
_Sophonisba. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    When Britain first, at Heaven's command,
      Arose from out the azure main,
    This was the charter of her land,
      And guardian angels sung the strain:
    Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the waves!
    Britons never shall be slaves.
_Alfred. Act ii. Sc. 5._
JOHN DYER. 1700-1758.
    A little rule, a little sway,
    A sunbeam in a winter's day,
    Is all the proud and mighty have
    Between the cradle and the grave.
_Grongar Hill. Line 88._
    Ever charming, ever new,
    When will the landscape tire the view?
_Grongar Hill. Line 102._
          Disparting towers
    Trembling all precipitate down dash'd,
    Rattling around, loud thundering to the moon.
_The Ruins of Rome. Line 40._
PHILIP DODDRIDGE. 1702-1751.
    Live while you live, the epicure would say,
    And seize the pleasures of the present day;
    Live while you live, the sacred preacher cries,
    And give to God each moment as it flies.
    Lord, in my views, let both united be:
    I live in pleasure when I live to thee.
_Epigram on his Family Arms._
    Awake, my soul! stretch every nerve,
      And press with vigour on;
    A heavenly race demands thy zeal,
      And an immortal crown.
_Zeal and Vigour in the Christian Race._
JOHN WESLEY. 1703-1791.
     That execrable sum of all villanies commonly called a Slave
     Trade.
_Journal. Feb. 12, 1772._
     Certainly this is a duty, not a sin. "Cleanliness is indeed next
     to godliness."
_Sermon xciii. On Dress._
     I am always in haste, but never in a hurry.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.[359-4] 1706-1790.
     They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little
     temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.
_Historical Review of Pennsylvania._
    God helps them that help themselves.
_Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757._
     Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the
     stuff life is made of.
_Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757._
    Early to bed and early to rise,
    Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.
_Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757._
    Plough deep while sluggards sleep.
_Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757._
     Never leave that till to-morrow which you can do to-day.
_Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757._
    Three removes are as bad as a fire.
_Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757._
    Little strokes fell great oaks.
_Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757._
     A little neglect may breed mischief: for want of a nail the shoe
     was lost; for want of a shoe the horse was lost; and for want of
     a horse the rider was lost.
_Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757._
    He that goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing.
_Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757._
     A man may, if he knows not how to save as he gets, keep his nose
     to the grindstone.
_Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757._
    Vessels large may venture more,
    But little boats should keep near shore.
_Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757._
    It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright.
_Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757._
     Experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other.
_Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757._
     We are a kind of posterity in respect to them.
_Letter to William Strahan, 1745._
     Remember that time is money.
_Advice to a Young Tradesman, 1748._
     Idleness and pride tax with a heavier hand than kings and
     parliaments. If we can get rid of the former, we may easily bear
     the latter.
_Letter on the Stamp Act, July 1, 1765._
    Here Skugg lies snug
    As a bug in a rug.
_Letter to Miss Georgiana Shipley, September, 1772._
     There never was a good war or a bad peace.
_Letter to Josiah Quincy, Sept. 11, 1773._
     You and I were long friends: you are now my enemy, and I am
     yours.
_Letter to William Strahan, July 5, 1775._
     We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang
     separately.
_At the signing of the Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776._
     He has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.
_The Whistle. November, 1779._
     Here you would know and enjoy what posterity will say of
     Washington. For a thousand leagues have nearly the same effect
     with a thousand years.
_Letter to Washington, March 5, 1780._
     Our Constitution is in actual operation; everything appears to
     promise that it will last; but in this world nothing is certain
     but death and taxes.
_Letter to M. Leroy, 1789._
NATHANIEL COTTON. 1707-1788.
    If solid happiness we prize,
    Within our breast this jewel lies,
      And they are fools who roam.
    The world has nothing to bestow;
    From our own selves our joys must flow,
      And that dear hut, our home.
_The Fireside. Stanza 3._
    To be resign'd when ills betide,
    Patient when favours are deni'd,
      And pleas'd with favours given,
    Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's part;
    This is that incense of the heart
      Whose fragrance smells to heaven.
_The Fireside. Stanza 11._
    Thus hand in hand through life we 'll go;
    Its checker'd paths of joy and woe
      With cautious steps we 'll tread.
_The Fireside. Stanza 31._
    Yet still we hug the dear deceit.
_Content. Vision iv._
    Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee.
_To-morrow._
HENRY FIELDING. 1707-1754.
    All Nature wears one universal grin.
_Tom Thumb the Great. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Petition me no petitions, sir, to-day;
    Let other hours be set apart for business.
    To-day it is our pleasure to be drunk;
    And this our queen shall be as drunk as we.
_Tom Thumb the Great. Act i. Sc. 2._
    When I 'm not thank'd at all, I 'm thank'd enough;
    I 've done my duty, and I 've done no more.
_Tom Thumb the Great. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Thy modesty 's a candle to thy merit.
_Tom Thumb the Great. Act i. Sc. 3._
    To sun myself in Huncamunca's eyes.
_Tom Thumb the Great. Act i. Sc. 3._
    Lo, when two dogs are fighting in the streets,
    With a third dog one of the two dogs meets;
    With angry teeth he bites him to the bone,
    And this dog smarts for what that dog has done.
_Tom Thumb the Great. Act i. Sc. 6._
    I am as sober as a judge.
_Don Quixote in England. Act iii. Sc. 14._
    Much may be said on both sides.
_The Covent Garden Tragedy. Act i. Sc. 8._
    Enough is equal to a feast.
_The Covent Garden Tragedy. Act v. Sc. 1._
    We must eat to live and live to eat.
_The Miser. Act iii. Sc. 3._
    Penny saved is a penny got.
_The Miser. Act iii. Sc. 12._
    Oh, the roast beef of England,
    And old England's roast beef!
_The Grub Street Opera. Act iii. Sc. 2._
    This story will not go down.
_Tumble-down Dick._
     Can any man have a higher notion of the rule of right and the
     eternal fitness of things?
_Tom Jones. Book iv. Chap. iv._
     Distinction without a difference.
_Tom Jones. Book vi. Chap. xiii._
     Amiable weakness.
_Tom Jones. Book x. chap. viii._
     The dignity of history.
_Tom Jones. Book xi. Chap. ii._
     Republic of letters.
_Tom Jones. Book xiv. Chap. i._
     Illustrious predecessors.
_Covent Garden Journal. Jan. 11, 1752._
WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM. 1708-1778.
     Confidence is a plant of slow growth in an aged bosom.
_Speech, Jan. 14, 1766._
     A long train of these practices has at length unwillingly
     convinced me that there is something behind the throne greater
     than the King himself.
_Chatham Correspondence. Speech, March 2, 1770._
     Where law ends, tyranny begins.
_Case of Wilkes. Speech, Jan. 9, 1770._
     Reparation for our rights at home, and security against the like
     future violations.
_Letter to the Earl of Shelburne, Sept. 29, 1770._
     If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign
     troop was landed in my country I never would lay down my
     arms,--never! never! never!
_Speech, Nov. 18, 1777._
     The poorest man may in his cottage bid defiance to all the force
     of the Crown. It may be frail; its roof may shake; the wind may
     blow through it; the storms may enter, the rain may enter,--but
     the King of England cannot enter; all his forces dare not cross
     the threshold of the ruined tenement!
_Speech on the Excise Bill._
     We have a Calvinistic creed, a Popish liturgy, and an Arminian
     clergy.
_Prior's Life of Burke_ (1790).
SAMUEL JOHNSON. 1709-1784.
    Let observation with extensive view
    Survey mankind, from China to Peru.
_Vanity of Human Wishes. Line 1._
    There mark what ills the scholar's life assail,
    Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail.
_Vanity of Human Wishes. Line 159._
    He left the name at which the world grew pale,
    To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
_Vanity of Human Wishes. Line 221._
    Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know
    That life protracted is protracted woe.
_Vanity of Human Wishes. Line 257._
    An age that melts in unperceiv'd decay,
    And glides in modest innocence away.
_Vanity of Human Wishes. Line 293._
    Superfluous lags the veteran on the stage.
_Vanity of Human Wishes. Line 308._
    Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise!
    From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of dotage flow,
    And Swift expires, a driv'ler and a show.
_Vanity of Human Wishes. Line 316._
    Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate,
    Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate?
_Vanity of Human Wishes. Line 345._
    For patience, sov'reign o'er transmuted ill.
_Vanity of Human Wishes. Line 362._
    Of all the griefs that harass the distrest,
    Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest.
_London. Line 166._
    This mournful truth is ev'rywhere confess'd,
    Slow rises worth by poverty depress'd.
_London. Line 176._
    Studious to please, yet not ashamed to fail.
_Prologue to the Tragedy of Irene._
    Each change of many-colour'd life he drew,
    Exhausted worlds, and then imagin'd new.
_Prologue on the Opening of Drury Lane Theatre._
    And panting Time toil'd after him in vain.
_Prologue on the Opening of Drury Lane Theatre._
    For we that live to please must please to live.
_Prologue on the Opening of Drury Lane Theatre._
    Catch, then, oh catch the transient hour;
      Improve each moment as it flies!
    Life 's a short summer, man a flower;
      He dies--alas! how soon he dies!
_Winter. An Ode._
    Officious, innocent, sincere,
    Of every friendless name the friend.
_Verses on the Death of Mr. Robert Levet. Stanza 2._
    In misery's darkest cavern known,
      His useful care was ever nigh
    Where hopeless anguish pour'd his groan,
      And lonely want retir'd to die.
_Verses on the Death of Mr. Robert Levet. Stanza 5._
    And sure th' Eternal Master found
      His single talent well employ'd.
_Verses on the Death of Mr. Robert Levet. Stanza 7._
    Then with no throbs of fiery pain,
      No cold gradations of decay,
    Death broke at once the vital chain,
      And freed his soul the nearest way.
_Verses on the Death of Mr. Robert Levet. Stanza 9._
    That saw the manners in the face.
_Lines on the Death of Hogarth._
    Philips, whose touch harmonious could remove
    The pangs of guilty power and hapless love!
    Rest here, distressed by poverty no more;
    Here find that calm thou gav'st so oft before;
    Sleep undisturb'd within this peaceful shrine,
    Till angels wake thee with a note like thine!
_Epitaph on Claudius Philips, the Musician._
    A Poet, Naturalist, and Historian,
    Who left scarcely any style of writing untouched,
    And touched nothing that he did not adorn.
_Epitaph on Goldsmith._
    How small of all that human hearts endure,
    That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!
    Still to ourselves in every place consigned,
    Our own felicity we make or find.
    With secret course, which no loud storms annoy,
    Glides the smooth current of domestic joy.
_Lines added to Goldsmith's Traveller._
    Trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay.
_Line added to Goldsmith's Deserted Village._
    From thee, great God, we spring, to thee we tend,
    Path, motive, guide, original, and end.
_Motto to the Rambler. No. 7._
     Ye who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy, and
     pursue with eagerness the phantoms of hope; who expect that age
     will perform the promises of youth, and that the deficiencies of
     the present day will be supplied by the morrow,--attend to the
     history of Rasselas, Prince Of Abyssinia.
_Rasselas. Chap. i._
     "I fly from pleasure," said the prince, "because pleasure has
     ceased to please; I am lonely because I am miserable, and am
     unwilling to cloud with my presence the happiness of others."
_Rasselas. Chap. iii._
     A man used to vicissitudes is not easily dejected.
_Rasselas. Chap. xii._
     Few things are impossible to diligence and skill.
_Rasselas. Chap. xii._
     Knowledge is more than equivalent to force.
_Rasselas. Chap. xiii._
     I live in the crowd of jollity, not so much to enjoy company as
     to shun myself.
_Rasselas. Chap. xvi._
     Many things difficult to design prove easy to performance.
_Rasselas. Chap. xvi._
     The first years of man must make provision for the last.
_Rasselas. Chap. xvii._
     Example is always more efficacious than precept.
_Rasselas. Chap. xxx._
     The endearing elegance of female friendship.
_Rasselas. Chap. xlvi._
     I am not so lost in lexicography as to forget that _words are the
     daughters of earth, and that things are the sons of
     heaven_.
_Preface to his Dictionary._
     Words are men's daughters, but God's sons are things.
_Boulter's Monument._ 
     Whoever wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not
     coarse, and elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days and
     nights to the volumes of Addison.
_Life of Addison._
     To be of no church is dangerous. Religion, of which the rewards
     are distant, and which is animated only by faith and hope, will
     glide by degrees out of the mind unless it be invigorated and
     reimpressed by external ordinances, by stated calls to worship,
     and the salutary influence of example.
_Life of Milton._
     The trappings of a monarchy would set up an ordinary
     commonwealth.
_Life of Milton._
     His death eclipsed the gayety of nations, and impoverished the
     public stock of harmless pleasure.
_Life of Edmund Smith_ (alluding to the death of Garrick).
     That man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain
     force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow
     warmer among the ruins of Iona.
_Journey to the Western Islands: Inch Kenneth._
     He is no wise man that will quit a certainty for an uncertainty.
_The Idler. No. 57._
     What is read twice is commonly better remembered than what is
     transcribed.
_The Idler. No. 74._
     Tom Birch is as brisk as a bee in conversation; but no sooner
     does he take a pen in his hand than it becomes a torpedo to him,
     and benumbs all his faculties.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell).[369-1] _Vol. i. Chap. vii. 1743._
     Wretched un-idea'd girls.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. i. Chap. x. 1752._
     This man [Chesterfield], I thought, had been a lord among wits;
     but I find he is only a wit among lords.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. i. 1754._
     Sir, he [Bolingbroke] was a scoundrel and a coward: a scoundrel
     for charging a blunderbuss against religion and morality; a
     coward, because he had not resolution to fire it off himself, but
     left half a crown to a beggarly Scotchman to draw the trigger at
     his death.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. i. 1754._
     Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man
     struggling for life in the water, and when he has reached ground
     encumbers him with help?
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. ii. 1755._
     I am glad that he thanks God for anything.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. ii. 1755._
     If a man does not make new acquaintances as he advances through
     life, he will soon find himself left alone. A man, sir, should
     keep his friendship in a constant repair.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. ii. 1755._
     Being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being
     drowned.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. iii. 1759._
     Sir, I think all Christians, whether Papists or Protestants,
     agree in the essential articles, and that their differences are
     trivial, and rather political than religious.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. v. 1763._
     The noblest prospect which a Scotchman ever sees is the high-road
     that leads him to England.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. v. 1763._
     If he does really think that there is no distinction between
     virtue and vice, why, sir, when he leaves our houses let us count
     our spoons.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. v. 1763._
     Sir, your levellers wish to level _down_ as far as themselves;
     but they cannot bear levelling _up_ to themselves.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. v. 1763._
     A man ought to read just as inclination leads him; for what he
     reads as a task will do him little good.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. vi. 1763._
     Sherry is dull, naturally dull; but it must have taken him a
     great deal of pains to become what we now see him. Such an access
     of stupidity, sir, is not in Nature.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. ix._
     Sir, a woman preaching is like a dog's walking on his hind legs.
     It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at
     all.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. ix._
     I look upon it, that he who does not mind his belly will hardly
     mind anything else.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. ix._
     This was a good dinner enough, to be sure, but it was not a
     dinner to _ask_ a man to.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. ix._
     A very unclubable man.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. ii. Chap. ix. 1764._
     I do not know, sir, that the fellow is an infidel; but if he be
     an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel; that is to
     say, he has never thought upon the subject.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. iii. Chap. iii. 1769._
     It matters not how a man dies, but how he lives.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. iii. Chap. iv._
     That fellow seems to me to possess but one idea, and that is a
     wrong one.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. iii. Chap. v. 1770._
     I am a great friend to public amusements; for they keep people
     from vice.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. iii. Chap. viii. 1772._
     A cow is a very good animal in the field; but we turn her out of
     a garden.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. iii. Chap. viii. 1772._
     Much may be made of a Scotchman if he be caught young.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. iii. Chap. viii. 1772._
     A man may write at any time if he will set himself doggedly to
     it.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. iv. Chap. ii. 1773._
     Let him go abroad to a distant country; let him go to some place
     where he is _not_ known. Don't let him go to the devil, where he
     _is_ known.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. iv. Chap. ii. 1773._
     Was ever poet so trusted before?
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. v. Chap. vi. 1774._
     Attack is the reaction. I never think I have hit hard unless it
     rebounds.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. v. Chap. vi. 1775._
     A man will turn over half a library to make one book.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. v. Chap. viii. 1775._
     Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. v. Chap. ix._
     Hell is paved with good intentions.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. v. Chap. ix._
     Knowledge is of two kinds: we know a subject ourselves, or we
     know where we can find information upon it.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. v. Chap. ix._
     I never take a nap after dinner but when I have had a bad night;
     and then the nap takes me.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vi. Chap. i. 1775._
     In lapidary inscriptions a man is not upon oath.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vi. Chap. i. 1775._
     There is now less flogging in our great schools than
     formerly,--but then less is learned there; so that what the boys
     get at one end they lose at the other.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vi. Chap. i. 1775._
     There is nothing which has yet been contrived by man by which so
     much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vi. Chap. iii. 1776._
     No man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vi. Chap. iii. 1776._
     Questioning is not the mode of conversation among gentlemen.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vi. Chap. iv. 1776._
     A man is very apt to complain of the ingratitude of those who
     have risen far above him.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vi. Chap. iv. 1776._
     All this [wealth] excludes but one evil,--poverty.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vi. Chap. ix. 1777._
     Employment, sir, and hardships prevent melancholy.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vi. Chap. ix. 1777._
     When a man is tired of London he is tired of life; for there is
     in London all that life can afford.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vi. Chap. ix. 1777._
     He was so generally civil that nobody thanked him for it.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vi. Chap. ix. 1777._
     Goldsmith, however, was a man who whatever he wrote, did it
     better than any other man could do.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vii. Chap. iii. 1778._
     Johnson had said that he could repeat a complete chapter of "The
     Natural History of Iceland," from the Danish of Horrebow, the
     whole of which was exactly (Ch. lxxii. _Concerning snakes_) thus:
     "There are no snakes to be met with throughout the whole
     island."
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vii. Chap. iv. 1778._
     As the Spanish proverb says, "He who would bring home the wealth
     of the Indies must carry the wealth of the Indies with him," so
     it is in travelling,--a man must carry knowledge with him if he
     would bring home knowledge.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vii. Chap. v. 1778._
     The true, strong, and sound mind is the mind that can embrace
     equally great things and small.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vii. Chap. vi. 1778._
     I remember a passage in Goldsmith's "Vicar of Wakefield," which
     he was afterwards fool enough to expunge: "I do not love a man
     who is zealous for nothing." . . . There was another fine passage
     too which he struck out: "When I was a young man, being anxious
     to distinguish myself, I was perpetually starting new
     propositions. But I soon gave this over; for I found that
     generally what was new was false."
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vii. Chap. viii. 1779._
     Claret is the liquor for boys, port for men; but he who aspires
     to be a hero must drink brandy.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vii. Chap. viii. 1779._
     A Frenchman must be always talking, whether he knows anything of
     the matter or not; an Englishman is content to say nothing when
     he has nothing to say.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vii. Chap. x._
     Of Dr. Goldsmith he said, "No man was more foolish when he had
     not a pen in his hand, or more wise when he had."
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vii. Chap. x._
     The applause of a single human being is of great consequence.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. vii. Chap. x._
     The potentiality of growing rich beyond the dreams of
     avarice.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. viii. Chap. ii._
     Classical quotation is the _parole_ of literary men all over the
     world.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. viii. Chap. iii. 1781._
     My friend was of opinion that when a man of rank appeared in that
     character [as an author], he deserved to have his merits
     handsomely allowed.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. viii. Chap. iii. 1781._
     I never have sought the world; the world was not to seek
     me.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. viii. Chap. v. 1783._
     He is not only dull himself, but the cause of dullness in
     others.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. viii. Chap. v. 1784._
     You see they 'd have fitted him to a T.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. viii. Chap. ix. 1784._
     I have found you an argument; I am not obliged to find you an
     understanding.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. viii. Chap. ix. 1784._
     Who drives fat oxen should himself be fat.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. viii. Chap. ix. 1784._
     Blown about with every wind of criticism.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. viii. Chap. x. 1784._
    If the man who turnips cries
    Cry not when his father dies,
    'T is a proof that he had rather
    Have a turnip than his father.
_Johnsoniana. Piozzi, 30._
     He was a very good hater.
_Johnsoniana. Piozzi, 39._
     The law is the last result of human wisdom acting upon human
     experience for the benefit of the public.
_Johnsoniana. Piozzi, 58._
     The use of travelling is to regulate imagination by reality, and
     instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are.
_Johnsoniana. Piozzi, 154._
     Dictionaries are like watches; the worst is better than none, and
     the best cannot be expected to go quite true.
_Johnsoniana. Piozzi, 178._
     Books that you may carry to the fire and hold readily in your
     hand, are the most useful after all.
_Johnsoniana. Hawkins. 197._
     Round numbers are always false.
_Johnsoniana. Hawkins. 235._
    As with my hat[375-3] upon my head
      I walk'd along the Strand,
    I there did meet another man
      With his hat in his hand.
_Johnsoniana. George Steevens. 310._
     Abstinence is as easy to me as temperance would be difficult.
_Johnsoniana. Hannah More. 467._
     The limbs will quiver and move after the soul is gone.
_Johnsoniana. Northcote. 487._
     Hawkesworth said of Johnson, "You have a memory that would
     convict any author of plagiarism in any court of literature in
     the world."
_Johnsoniana. Kearsley. 600._
     His conversation does not show the minute-hand, but he strikes
     the hour very correctly.
_Johnsoniana. Kearsley. 604._
     Hunting was the labour of the savages of North America, but the
     amusement of the gentlemen of England.
_Johnsoniana. Kearsley. 606._
     I am very fond of the company of ladies. I like their beauty, I
     like their delicacy, I like their vivacity, and I like their
     silence.
_Johnsoniana. Seward. 617._
     This world, where much is to be done and little to be known.
_Prayers and Meditations. Against inquisitive and perplexing Thoughts._
     Gratitude is a fruit of great cultivation; you do not find it
     among gross people.
_Tour to the Hebrides. Sept. 20, 1773._
     A fellow that makes no figure in company, and has a mind as
     narrow as the neck of a vinegar-cruet.
_Tour to the Hebrides. Sept. 30, 1773._
     The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honourable
     gentleman has with such spirit and decency charged upon me, I
     shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny; but content myself
     with wishing that I may be one of those whose follies may cease
     with their youth, and not of that number who are ignorant in
     spite of experience.
_Pitt's Reply to Walpole. Speech, March 6, 1741._
     Towering in the confidence of twenty-one.
_Letter to Bennet Langton. Jan. 9, 1758._
     Gloomy calm of idle vacancy.
_Letter to Boswell. Dec. 8, 1763._
     Wharton quotes Johnson as saying of Dr. Campbell, "He is the
     richest author that ever grazed the common of literature."
LORD LYTTLETON. 1709-1773.
    For his chaste Muse employ'd her heaven-taught lyre
    None but the noblest passions to inspire,
    Not one immoral, one corrupted thought,
    One line which, dying, he could wish to blot.
_Prologue to Thomson's Coriolanus._
    Women, like princes, find few real friends.
_Advice to a Lady._
    What is your sex's earliest, latest care,
    Your heart's supreme ambition? To be fair.
_Advice to a Lady._
    The lover in the husband may be lost.
_Advice to a Lady._
    How much the wife is dearer than the bride.
_An Irregular Ode._
    None without hope e'er lov'd the brightest fair,
    But love can hope where reason would despair.
_Epigram._
    Where none admire, 't is useless to excel;
    Where none are beaux, 't is vain to be a belle.
_Soliloquy on a Beauty in the Country._
    Alas! by some degree of woe
      We every bliss must gain;
    The heart can ne'er a transport know
      That never feels a pain.
_Song._
EDWARD MOORE. 1712-1757.
    Can't I another's face commend,
    And to her virtues be a friend,
    But instantly your forehead lowers,
    As if _her_ merit lessen'd _yours_?
_The Farmer, the Spaniel, and the Cat. Fable ix._
    The maid who modestly conceals
    Her beauties, while she hides, reveals;
    Give but a glimpse, and fancy draws
    Whate'er the Grecian Venus was.
_The Spider and the Bee. Fable x._
    But from the hoop's bewitching round,
    Her very shoe has power to wound.
_The Spider and the Bee. Fable x._
    Time still, as he flies, brings increase to her truth,
    And gives to her mind what he steals from her youth.
_The Happy Marriage._
     I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice.
_The Gamester. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     'T is now the summer of your youth. Time has not cropt the roses
     from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them.
_The Gamester. Act iii. Sc. 4._
    Labour for his pains.
_The Boy and the Rainbow._
LAURENCE STERNE. 1713-1768.
     Go, poor devil, get thee gone! Why should I hurt thee? This world
     surely is wide enough to hold both thee and me.
_Tristram Shandy_ (orig. ed.). _Vol. ii. chap. xii._
     Great wits jump.
_Tristram Shandy_ (orig. ed.). _Vol. iii. Chap. ix._
     "Our armies swore terribly in Flanders," cried my Uncle Toby,
     "but nothing to this."
_Tristram Shandy_ (orig. ed.). _Vol. iii. Chap. xi._
     Of all the cants which are canted in this canting world, though
     the cant of hypocrites may be the worst, the cant of criticism is
     the most tormenting!
_Tristram Shandy_ (orig. ed.). _Vol. iii. Chap. xii._
     The accusing spirit, which flew up to heaven's chancery with the
     oath, blushed as he gave it in; and the recording angel as he
     wrote it down dropped a tear upon the word and blotted it out
     forever.
_Tristram Shandy_ (orig. ed.). _Vol. vi. Chap. viii._
     I am sick as a horse.
_Tristram Shandy_ (orig. ed.). _Vol. vii. Chap. xi._
     "They order," said I, "this matter better in France."
_Sentimental Journey. Page 1._
     I pity the man who can travel from Dan to Beersheba and cry, "'T
     is all barren!"
_In the Street. Calais._
     God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.
_Maria._
     "Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery," said I, "still
     thou art a bitter draught."
_The Passport. The Hotel at Paris._
     The sad vicissitude of things.
_Sermon xvi._
     Trust that man in nothing who has not a conscience in everything.
_Sermon xxvii._
WILLIAM SHENSTONE. 1714-1763.
    Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round,
      Where'er his stages may have been,
    May sigh to think he still has found
      The warmest welcome at an inn.
_Written on a Window of an Inn._
    So sweetly she bade me adieu,
    I thought that she bade me return.
_A Pastoral. Part i._
    I have found out a gift for my fair;
    I have found where the wood-pigeons breed.
_A Pastoral. Part i._
    My banks they are furnish'd with bees,
    Whose murmur invites one to sleep.
_A Pastoral. Part ii. Hope._
    For seldom shall she hear a tale
    So sad, so tender, and so true.
_Jemmy Dawson._
    Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow,
    Emblems right meet of decency does yield.
_The Schoolmistress. Stanza 6._
    Pun-provoking thyme.
_The Schoolmistress. Stanza 11._
    A little bench of heedless bishops here,
    And there a chancellor in embryo.
_The Schoolmistress. Stanza 28._
JOHN BROWN. 1715-1766.
    Now let us thank the Eternal Power: convinced
    That Heaven but tries our virtue by affliction,
    That oft the cloud which wraps the present hour
    Serves but to brighten all our future days.
_Barbarossa. Act v. Sc. 3._
    And coxcombs vanquish Berkeley by a grin.
_An Essay on Satire, occasioned by the Death of Mr. Pope._
JAMES TOWNLEY. 1715-1778.
     _Kitty._ Shikspur? Shikspur? Who wrote it? No, I never read
     Shikspur.
     _Lady Bab._ Then you have an immense pleasure to come.
_High Life below Stairs. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    From humble Port to imperial Tokay.
_High Life below Stairs. Act ii. Sc. 1._
THOMAS GRAY. 1716-1771.
    What female heart can gold despise?
      What cat 's averse to fish?
_On the death of a Favourite Cat._
    A fav'rite has no friend!
_On the death of a Favourite Cat._
    Ye distant spires, ye antique towers.
_On a Distant Prospect of Eton College. Stanza 1._
    Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade!
      Ah, fields beloved in vain!
    Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
      A stranger yet to pain!
    I feel the gales that from ye blow
      A momentary bliss bestow.
_On a Distant Prospect of Eton College. Stanza 2._
    They hear a voice in every wind,
      And snatch a fearful joy.
_On a Distant Prospect of Eton College. Stanza 4._
    Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed,
      Less pleasing when possest;
    The tear forgot as soon as shed,
      The sunshine of the breast.
_On a Distant Prospect of Eton College. Stanza 5._
    Alas! regardless of their doom,
      The little victims play;
    No sense have they of ills to come,
      Nor care beyond to-day.
_On a Distant Prospect of Eton College. Stanza 6._
    Ah, tell them they are men!
_On a Distant Prospect of Eton College. Stanza 6._
    And moody madness laughing wild
    Amid severest woe.
_On a Distant Prospect of Eton College. Stanza 8._
    To each his suff'rings; all are men,
      Condemn'd alike to groan,
    The tender for another's pain,
      Th' unfeeling for his own.
    Yet ah! why should they know their fate,
    Since sorrow never comes too late,
      And happiness too swiftly flies?
      Thought would destroy their paradise.
    No more; where ignorance is bliss,
      'T is folly to be wise.
_On a Distant Prospect of Eton College. Stanza 10._
    Daughter of Jove, relentless power,
      Thou tamer of the human breast,
    Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour
      The bad affright, afflict the best!
_Hymn to Adversity._
    From Helicon's harmonious springs
    A thousand rills their mazy progress take.
_The Progress of Poesy. I. 1, Line 3._
    Glance their many-twinkling feet.
_The Progress of Poesy. I. 3, Line 11._
    O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move
    The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.
_The Progress of Poesy. I. 3, Line 16._
    Her track, where'er the goddess roves,
    Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame,
    Th' unconquerable mind,[382-3] and freedom's holy flame.
_The Progress of Poesy. II. 2, Line 10._
    Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.
_The Progress of Poesy. III. 1, Line 12._
    He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time:
    The living throne, the sapphire blaze,
    Where angels tremble while they gaze,
    He saw; but blasted with excess of light,
    Closed his eyes in endless night.
_The Progress of Poesy. III. 2, Line 4._
    Bright-eyed Fancy, hov'ring o'er,
    Scatters from her pictured urn
    Thoughts that breathe and words that burn.
_The Progress of Poesy. III. 3, Line 2._
    Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate,
    Beneath the good how far,--but far above the great.
_The Progress of Poesy. III. 3, Line 16._
    Ruin seize thee, ruthless king!
      Confusion on thy banners wait!
    Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing,
      They mock the air with idle state.
_The Bard. I. 1, Line 1._
    Loose his beard, and hoary hair
    Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air.
_The Bard. I. 2, Line 5._
    To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
_The Bard. I. 2, Line 14._
    Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes;
    Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.
_The Bard. I. 3, Line 12._
    Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
      The winding-sheet of Edward's race.
    Give ample room and verge enough
      The characters of hell to trace.
_The Bard. II. 1, Line 1._
    Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows;
      While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
    In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes,
      Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
    Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,
    That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
_The Bard. II. 2, Line 9._
    Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,
    With many a foul and midnight murder fed.
_The Bard. II. 3, Line 11._
    Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
    Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
_The Bard. III. 1, Line 11._
    And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
_The Bard. III. 3, Line 3._
    Comus and his midnight crew.
_Ode for Music. Line 2._
    While bright-eyed Science watches round.
_Ode for Music. Chorus. Line 3._
    The still small voice of gratitude.
_Ode for Music. V. Line 8._
    Iron sleet of arrowy shower
    Hurtles in the darken'd air.
_The Fatal Sisters. Line 3._
    The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
      The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
    The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
      And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 1._
    Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
      The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 4._
    The breezy call of incense-breathing morn.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 5._
    Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
      The short and simple annals of the poor.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 8._
    The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
      And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
    Await alike the inevitable hour.
      The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 9._
    Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault,
      The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 10._
    Can storied urn, or animated bust,
      Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
    Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
      Or flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of death?
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 11._
    Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd,
      Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 12._
    But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
      Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
    Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,
      And froze the genial current of the soul.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 13._
    Full many a gem of purest ray serene
      The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;
    Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
      And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 14._
    Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast
      The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
    Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
      Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 15._
    The applause of list'ning senates to command,
      The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
    To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
      And read their history in a nation's eyes.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 16._
    Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
      And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 17._
    Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife
      Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
    Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
      They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 19._
    Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 20._
    And many a holy text around she strews,
      That teach the rustic moralist to die.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 21._
    For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
      This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
    Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
      Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind?
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 22._
    E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
      E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 23._
    Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
      To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 25._
    One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
      Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree:
    Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
      Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.
_Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 28._
    Here rests his head upon the lap of earth,
      A youth to fortune and to fame unknown:
    Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,
      And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.
_The Epitaph._
    Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
      Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
    He gave to mis'ry (all he had) a tear,
      He gained from Heav'n ('t was all he wish'd) a friend.
_The Epitaph._
    No further seek his merits to disclose,
      Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
    (There they alike in trembling hope repose),
      The bosom of his Father and his God.
_The Epitaph._
    And weep the more, because I weep in vain.
_Sonnet. On the Death of Mr. West._
    Rich windows that exclude the light,
      And passages that lead to nothing.
_A Long Story._
    The hues of bliss more brightly glow,
    Chastised by sabler tints of woe.
_Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 45._
    The meanest floweret of the vale,
    The simplest note that swells the gale,
    The common sun, the air, the skies,
    To him are opening paradise.
_Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 53._
    And hie him home, at evening's close,
    To sweet repast and calm repose.
_Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 87._
    From toil he wins his spirits light,
    From busy day the peaceful night;
    Rich, from the very want of wealth,
    In heaven's best treasures, peace and health.
_Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 93._
    The social smile, the sympathetic tear.
_Education and Government._
    When love could teach a monarch to be wise,
    And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.
    Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune;
    He had not the method of making a fortune.
_On his own Character._
     Now as the Paradisiacal pleasures of the Mahometans consist in
     playing upon the flute and lying with Houris, be mine to read
     eternal new romances of Marivaux and Crebillon.
_To Mr. West. Letter iv. Third Series._
DAVID GARRICK. 1716-1779.
    Corrupted freemen are the worst of slaves.
_Prologue to the Gamesters._
    Their cause I plead,--plead it in heart and mind;
    A fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind.
_Prologue on Quitting the Stage in 1776._
    Prologues like compliments are loss of time;
    'T is penning bows and making legs in rhyme.
_Prologue to Crisp's Tragedy of Virginia._
    Let others hail the rising sun:
    I bow to that whose course is run.
_On the Death of Mr. Pelham._
    This scholar, rake, Christian, dupe, gamester, and poet.
_Jupiter and Mercury._
    Hearts of oak are our ships,
    Hearts of oak are our men.
_Hearts of Oak._
    Here lies James Quinn. Deign, reader, to be taught,
    Whate'er thy strength of body, force of thought,
    In Nature's happiest mould however cast,
    To this complexion thou must come at last.
_Epitaph on Quinn. Murphy's Life of Garrick, Vol. ii. p. 38._
    Are these the choice dishes the Doctor has sent us?
    Is this the great poet whose works so content us?
    This Goldsmith's fine feast, who has written fine books?
    Heaven sends us good meat, but the Devil sends cooks?
_Epigram on Goldsmith's Retaliation. Vol. ii. p. 157._
    Here lies Nolly Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll,
    Who wrote like an angel, and talk'd like poor Poll.
_Impromptu Epitaph on Goldsmith._
WILLIAM B. RHODES. _Circa_ 1790.
    Who dares this pair of boots displace,
    Must meet Bombastes face to face.
_Bombastes Furioso. Act i. Sc. 4._
    _Bom._   So have I heard on Afric's burning shore
           A hungry lion give a grievous roar;
           The grievous roar echoed along the shore.
    _Artax._ So have I heard on Afric's burning shore
           Another lion give a grievous roar;
           And the first lion thought the last a bore.
_Bombastes Furioso. Act i. Sc. 4._
MRS. GREVILLE.[389-1] _Circa_ 1793.
    Nor peace nor ease the heart can know
      Which, like the needle true,
    Turns at the touch of joy or woe,
      But turning, trembles too.
_A Prayer for Indifference._
HORACE WALPOLE. 1717-1797.
     Harry Vane, Pulteney's toad-eater,
_Letter to Sir Horace Mann, 1742._
     The world is a comedy to those that think, a tragedy to those who
     feel.
_Letter to Sir Horace Mann, 1770._
     A careless song, with a little nonsense in it now and then, does
     not misbecome a monarch.
_Letter to Sir Horace Mann, 1774._
     The whole [Scotch] nation hitherto has been void of wit and
     humour, and even incapable of relishing it.
_Letter to Sir Horace Mann, 1778._
WILLIAM COLLINS. 1720-1756.
    In numbers warmly pure and sweetly strong.
_Ode to Simplicity._
    Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell:
    'T is virtue makes the bliss, where'er we dwell.
_Oriental Eclogues. 1, Line 5._
    How sleep the brave who sink to rest
    By all their country's wishes bless'd!
_Ode written in the year 1746._
    By fairy hands their knell is rung;
    By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
    There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray,
    To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
    And Freedom shall awhile repair,
    To dwell a weeping hermit there!
_Ode written in the year 1746._
    When Music, heavenly maid, was young,
    While yet in early Greece she sung.
_The Passions. Line 1._
    Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspired.
_The Passions. Line 10._
    'T was sad by fits, by starts 't was wild.
_The Passions. Line 28._
    In notes by distance made more sweet.
_The Passions. Line 60._
    In hollow murmurs died away.
_The Passions. Line 68._
    O Music! sphere-descended maid,
    Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid!
_The Passions. Line 95._
    In yonder grave a Druid lies.
_Death of Thomson._
    Too nicely Jonson knew the critic's part;
    Nature in him was almost lost in Art.
_To Sir Thomas Hammer on his Edition of Shakespeare._
    Each lonely scene shall thee restore;
      For thee the tear be duly shed,
    Belov'd till life can charm no more,
      And mourn'd till Pity's self be dead.
_Dirge in Cymbeline._
JAMES MERRICK. 1720-1769.
    Not what we wish, but what we want,
    Oh, let thy grace supply!
_Hymn._
    Oft has it been my lot to mark
    A proud, conceited, talking spark.
_The Chameleon._
SAMUEL FOOTE. 1720-1777.
    He made him a hut, wherein he did put
    The carcass of Robinson Crusoe.
      O poor Robinson Crusoe!
_The Mayor of Garratt. Act i. Sc. 1._
    Born in a cellar, and living in a garret.
_The Author. Act ii._
JAMES FORDYCE. 1720-1796.
    Henceforth the majesty of God revere;
    Fear Him, and you have nothing else to fear.
_Answer to a Gentleman who apologized to the Author for Swearing._
MARK AKENSIDE. 1721-1770.
    Such and so various are the tastes of men.
_Pleasures of the Imagination. Book iii. Line 567._
      Than Timoleon's arms require,
    And Tully's curule chair, and Milton's golden lyre.
_Ode. On a Sermon against Glory. Stanza ii._
    The man forget not, though in rags he lies,
    And know the mortal through a crown's disguise.
_Epistle to Curio._
    Seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys,
    And eagerly pursues imaginary joys.
_The Virtuoso. Stanza x._
TOBIAS SMOLLETT. 1721-1771.
    Thy spirit, Independence, let me share;
      Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye,
    Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare,
      Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.
_Ode to Independence._
    Thy fatal shafts unerring move,
    I bow before thine altar, Love!
_Roderick Random. Chap. xl._
    Facts are stubborn things.
_Translation of Gil Blas. Book x. Chap. 1._
SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE. 1723-1780.
     The royal navy of England hath ever been its greatest defence and
     ornament; it is its ancient and natural strength,--the floating
     bulwark of our island.
_Commentaries. Vol. i. Book i. Chap. xiii. § 418._
     Time whereof the memory of man runneth not to the contrary.
_Commentaries. Vol. i. Book i. Chap. xviii. § 472._
JOHN HOME. 1724-1808.
                     In the first days
    Of my distracting grief, I found myself
    As women wish to be who love their lords.
_Douglas. Act i. Sc. 1._
    I 'll woo her as the lion wooes his brides.
_Douglas. Act i. Sc. 1._
    My name is Norval; on the Grampian hills
    My father feeds his flocks; a frugal swain,
    Whose constant cares were to increase his store,
    And keep his only son, myself, at home.
_Douglas. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    A rude and boisterous captain of the sea.
_Douglas. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    Like Douglas conquer, or like Douglas die.
_Douglas. Act v. Sc. 1._
WILLIAM MASON. 1725-1797.
    The fattest hog in Epicurus' sty.
_Heroic Epistle._
RICHARD GIFFORD. 1725-1807.
    Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound;
      She feels no biting pang the while she sings;
    Nor, as she turns the giddy wheel around,
      Revolves the sad vicissitudes of things.
_Contemplation._
ARTHUR MURPHY. 1727-1805.
    Thus far we run before the wind.
_The Apprentice. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Above the vulgar flight of common souls.
_Zenobia. Act v._
    Picked up his crumbs.
_The Upholsterer. Act i._
JANE ELLIOTT. 1727-1805.
    The flowers of the forest are a' wide awae.
_The Flowers of the Forest._
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 1728-1774.
    Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow,
    Or by the lazy Scheld or wandering Po.
_The Traveller. Line 1._
    Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
    My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee;
    Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain,
    And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
_The Traveller. Line 7._
    And learn the luxury of doing good.
_The Traveller. Line 22._
    Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view.
_The Traveller. Line 26._
    These little things are great to little man.
_The Traveller. Line 42._
    Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine!
_The Traveller. Line 50._
    Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam,
    His first, best country ever is at home.
_The Traveller. Line 73._
    Where wealth and freedom reign contentment fails,
    And honour sinks where commerce long prevails.
_The Traveller. Line 91._
    Man seems the only growth that dwindles here.
_The Traveller. Line 126._
    The canvas glow'd beyond ev'n Nature warm,
    The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form.
_The Traveller. Line 137._
    By sports like these are all their cares beguil'd;
    The sports of children satisfy the child.
_The Traveller. Line 153._
    But winter lingering chills the lap of May.
_The Traveller. Line 172._
    Cheerful at morn, he wakes from short repose,
    Breasts the keen air, and carols as he goes.
_The Traveller. Line 185._
    So the loud torrent and the whirlwind's roar
    But bind him to his native mountains more.
_The Traveller. Line 217._
    Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days
    Have led their children through the mirthful maze,
    And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore,
    Has frisk'd beneath the burden of threescore.
_The Traveller. Line 251._
    They please, are pleas'd; they give to get esteem,
    Till seeming blest, they grow to what they seem.
_The Traveller. Line 266._
    Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies.
    Methinks her patient sons before me stand,
    Where the broad ocean leans against the land.
_The Traveller. Line 282._
    Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
    I see the lords of humankind pass by.
_The Traveller. Line 327._
    The land of scholars and the nurse of arms.
_The Traveller. Line 356._
    For just experience tells, in every soil,
    That those that think must govern those that toil.
_The Traveller. Line 372._
    Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law.
_The Traveller. Line 386._
    Forc'd from their homes, a melancholy train,
    To traverse climes beyond the western main;
    Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around,
    And Niagara stuns with thundering sound.
_The Traveller. Line 409._
    Vain, very vain, my weary search to find
    That bliss which only centres in the mind.
_The Traveller. Line 423._
    Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel.
_The Traveller. Line 436._
    Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain.
_The Deserted Village. Line 1._
    The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,
    For talking age and whispering lovers made.
_The Deserted Village. Line 13._
    The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love.
_The Deserted Village. Line 29._
    Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
    Where wealth accumulates, and men decay.
    Princes and lords may flourish or may fade,
    A breath can make them, as a breath has made;
    But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
    When once destroy'd, can never be supplied.
_The Deserted Village. Line 51._
    His best companions, innocence and health;
    And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.
_The Deserted Village. Line 61._
    How blest is he who crowns in shades like these
    A youth of labour with an age of ease!
_The Deserted Village. Line 99._
    While Resignation gently slopes away,
    And all his prospects brightening to the last,
    His heaven commences ere the world be past.
_The Deserted Village. Line 110._
    The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind,
    And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind.
_The Deserted Village. Line 121._
    A man he was to all the country dear,
    And passing rich with forty pounds a year.
_The Deserted Village. Line 141._
    Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done,
    Shoulder'd his crutch, and shew'd how fields were won.
_The Deserted Village. Line 157._
    Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
    His pity gave ere charity began.
    Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
    And even his failings lean'd to Virtue's side.
_The Deserted Village. Line 161._
    And as a bird each fond endearment tries
    To tempt its new-fledg'd offspring to the skies,
    He tried each art, reprov'd each dull delay,
    Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way.
_The Deserted Village. Line 167._
    Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway,
    And fools who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.
_The Deserted Village. Line 179._
    Even children follow'd with endearing wile,
    And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile.
_The Deserted Village. Line 183._
    As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
    Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
    Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
    Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
_The Deserted Village. Line 189._
    Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
    The day's disasters in his morning face;
    Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee
    At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;
    Full well the busy whisper circling round
    Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd.
    Yet was he kind, or if severe in aught,
    The love he bore to learning was in fault;
    The village all declar'd how much he knew,
    'T was certain he could write and cipher too.
_The Deserted Village. Line 199._
    In arguing too, the parson own'd his skill,
    For e'en though vanquish'd he could argue still;
    While words of learned length and thundering sound
    Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around;
    And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew
    That one small head could carry all he knew.
_The Deserted Village. Line 209._
    Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound,
    And news much older than their ale went round.
_The Deserted Village. Line 223._
    The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor,
    The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door;
    The chest, contriv'd a double debt to pay,
    A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day.
_The Deserted Village. Line 227._
    The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose.
_The Deserted Village. Line 232._
    To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
    One native charm, than all the gloss of art.
_The Deserted Village. Line 253._
    And e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy,
    The heart distrusting asks if this be joy.
_The Deserted Village. Line 263._
    Her modest looks the cottage might adorn,
    Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn.
_The Deserted Village. Line 329._
    Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go,
    Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe.
_The Deserted Village. Line 344._
    In all the silent manliness of grief.
_The Deserted Village. Line 384._
    O Luxury! thou curst by Heaven's decree!
_The Deserted Village. Line 385._
    Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe,
    That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so.
_The Deserted Village. Line 413._
    Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt;
    It 's like sending them ruffles when wanting a shirt.
_The Haunch of Venison._
    As aromatic plants bestow
    No spicy fragrance while they grow;
    But crush'd or trodden to the ground,
    Diffuse their balmy sweets around.
_The Captivity. Act i._
    To the last moment of his breath,
      On hope the wretch relies;
    And even the pang preceding death
      Bids expectation rise.
_The Captivity. Act ii._
    Hope, like the gleaming taper's light,
      Adorns and cheers our way;
    And still, as darker grows the night,
      Emits a brighter ray.
_The Captivity. Act ii._
    Our Garrick 's a salad; for in him we see
    Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree!
_Retaliation. Line 11._
    Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth:
    If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt.
_Retaliation. Line 24._
    Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind,
    And to party gave up what was meant for mankind;
    Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat
    To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote.
    Who too deep for his hearers still went on refining,
    And thought of convincing while they thought of dining:
    Though equal to all things, for all things unfit;
    Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit.
_Retaliation. Line 31._
    His conduct still right, with his argument wrong.
_Retaliation. Line 46._
    A flattering painter, who made it his care
    To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.
_Retaliation. Line 63._
    Here lies David Garrick, describe me who can,
    An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man.
_Retaliation. Line 93._
    As a wit, if not first, in the very first line.
_Retaliation. Line 96._
    On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting;
    'T was only that when he was off he was acting.
_Retaliation. Line 101._
    He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack,
    For he knew when he pleas'd he could whistle them back.
_Retaliation. Line 107._
    Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please.
_Retaliation. Line 112._
    When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff,
    He shifted his trumpet and only took snuff.
_Retaliation. Line 145._
    The best-humour'd man, with the worst-humour'd Muse.
_Postscript._
    Good people all, with one accord,
      Lament for Madam Blaize,
    Who never wanted a good word
      From those who spoke her praise.
_Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize._
    The king himself has followed her
      When she has walk'd before.
_Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize._
    A kind and gentle heart he had,
      To comfort friends and foes;
    The naked every day he clad
      When he put on his clothes.
_Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog._
    And in that town a dog was found,
      As many dogs there be,
    Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
      And curs of low degree.
_Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog._
    The dog, to gain his private ends,
      Went mad, and bit the man.
_Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog._
    The man recovered of the bite,
      The dog it was that died.
_Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog._
    A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,
    A cap by night, a stocking all the day.
_Description of an Author's Bed-chamber._
     This same philosophy is a good horse in the stable, but an arrant
     jade on a journey.
_The Good-Natured Man. Act i._
     All his faults are such that one loves him still the better for
     them.
_The Good-Natured Man. Act i._
     Silence gives consent.
_The Good-Natured Man. Act ii._
     Measures, not men, have always been my mark.
_The Good-Natured Man. Act ii._
     I love everything that 's old: old friends, old times, old
     manners, old books, old wine.
_She Stoops to Conquer. Act i._
     The very pink of perfection.
_She Stoops to Conquer. Act i._
     The genteel thing is the genteel thing any time, if as be that a
     gentleman bees in a concatenation accordingly.
_She Stoops to Conquer. Act i._
     I 'll be with you in the squeezing of a lemon.
_She Stoops to Conquer. Act i._
     Ask me no questions, and I 'll tell you no fibs.
_She Stoops to Conquer. Act iii._
     We sometimes had those little rubs which Providence sends to
     enhance the value of its favours.
_Vicar of Wakefield. Chap. i._
     Handsome is that handsome does.
_Vicar of Wakefield. Chap. i._
     The premises being thus settled, I proceed to observe that the
     concatenation of self-existence, proceeding in a reciprocal
     duplicate ratio, naturally produces a problematical dialogism,
     which in some measure proves that the essence of spirituality may
     be referred to the second predicable.
_Vicar of Wakefield. Chap. vii._
     I find you want me to furnish you with argument and intellect
     too.
_Vicar of Wakefield. Chap. vii._
    Turn, gentle Hermit of the Dale,
      And guide my lonely way
    To where yon taper cheers the vale
      With hospitable ray.
_The Hermit. Chap. viii. Stanza 1._
    Taught by that Power that pities me,
      I learn to pity them.
_The Hermit. Chap. viii. Stanza 6._
    Man wants but little here below,
      Nor wants that little long.
_The Hermit. Chap. viii. Stanza 8._
    And what is friendship but a name,
      A charm that lulls to sleep,
    A shade that follows wealth or fame,
      And leaves the wretch to weep?
_The Hermit. Chap. viii. Stanza 19._
    The sigh that rends thy constant heart
      Shall break thy Edwin's too.
_The Hermit. Chap. viii. Stanza 33._
     By the living jingo, she was all of a muck of sweat.
_The Hermit. Chap. ix._
     They would talk of nothing but high life, and high-lived company,
     with other fashionable topics, such as pictures, taste,
     Shakespeare, and the musical glasses.
_The Hermit. Chap. ix._
     It has been a thousand times observed, and I must observe it once
     more, that the hours we pass with happy prospects in view are
     more pleasing than those crowned with fruition.
_The Hermit. Chap. x._
     To what happy accident[402-4] is it that we owe so unexpected a
     visit?
_The Hermit. Chap. xix._
    When lovely woman stoops to folly,
      And finds too late that men betray,
    What charm can soothe her melancholy?
      What art can wash her guilt away?
_The Hermit. On Woman. Chap. xxiv._
    The only art her guilt to cover,
      To hide her shame from every eye,
    To give repentance to her lover,
      And wring his bosom, is--to die.
_The Hermit. On Woman. Chap. xxiv._
     To what fortuitous occurrence do we not owe every pleasure and
     convenience of our lives.
_The Hermit. On Woman. Chap. xxi._
    For he who fights and runs away
    May live to fight another day;
    But he who is in battle slain
    Can never rise and fight again.
_The Art of Poetry on a New Plan_ (1761). _Vol. ii. p. 147._
     One writer, for instance, excels at a plan or a title-page,
     another works away the body of the book, and a third is a dab at
     an index.
_The Bee. No. 1, Oct. 6, 1759._
     The true use of speech is not so much to express our wants as to
     conceal them.
_The Bee. No. iii. Oct. 20, 1759._
THOMAS WARTON. 1728-1790.
    All human race, from China to Peru,
    Pleasure, howe'er disguis'd by art, pursue.
_Universal Love of Pleasure._
    Nor rough, nor barren, are the winding ways
    Of hoar antiquity, but strewn with flowers.
_Written on a Blank Leaf of Dugdale's Monasticon._
THOMAS PERCY. 1728-1811.
    Every white will have its blacke,
    And every sweet its soure.
_Reliques of Ancient Poetry. Sir Cauline._
    Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone,
    Wi' the auld moon in hir arme.
_Sir Patrick Spens._
    He that had neyther been kith nor kin
      Might have seen a full fayre sight.
_Guy of Gisborne._
    Have you not heard these many years ago
      Jeptha was judge of Israel?
    He had one only daughter and no mo,
      The which he loved passing well;
            And as by lott,
            God wot,
            It so came to pass,
            As God's will was.
_Jepthah, Judge of Israel._
    A Robyn,
      Jolly Robyn,
    Tell me how thy leman does.
_A Robyn, Jolly Robyn._
    Where gripinge grefes the hart wounde,
    And dolefulle dumps the mynde oppresse,
    There music with her silver sound
    With spede is wont to send redresse.
_A Song to the Lute in Musicke._
    The blinded boy that shootes so trim,
    From heaven downe did hie.
_King Cophetua and the Beggar-maid._
    "What is thy name, faire maid?" quoth he.
    "Penelophon, O King!" quoth she.
_King Cophetua and the Beggar-maid._
    And how should I know your true love
      From many another one?
    Oh, by his cockle hat and staff,
      And by his sandal shoone.
_The Friar of Orders Gray._
    O Lady, he is dead and gone!
      Lady, he 's dead and gone!
    And at his head a green grass turfe,
      And at his heels a stone.
_The Friar of Orders Gray._
    Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more!
      Men were deceivers ever;
    One foot in sea and one on shore,
      To one thing constant never.
_The Friar of Orders Gray._
    Weep no more, lady, weep no more,
      Thy sorrowe is in vaine;
    For violets pluckt, the sweetest showers
      Will ne'er make grow againe.
_The Friar of Orders Gray._
    He that would not when he might,
      He shall not when he wolda.
_The Friar of Orders Gray._
    We 'll shine in more substantial honours,
      And to be noble we 'll be good.
_Winifreda_ (1720).
    And when with envy Time, transported,
      Shall think to rob us of our joys,
    You 'll in your girls again be courted,
      And I 'll go wooing in my boys.
_Winifreda_ (1720).
    King Stephen was a worthy peere,
      His breeches cost him but a croune;
    He held them sixpence all too deere,
      Therefore he call'd the taylor loune.
    He was a wight of high renowne,
      And those but of a low degree;
    Itt 's pride that putts the countrye doune,
      Then take thine old cloake about thee.
_Take thy old Cloak about Thee._
    A poore soule sat sighing under a sycamore tree;
      Oh willow, willow, willow!
    With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee,
      Oh willow, willow, willow!
_Willow, willow, willow._
    When Arthur first in court began,
      And was approved king.
_Sir Launcelot du Lake._
    Shall I bid her goe? What if I doe?
      Shall I bid her goe and spare not?
      Oh no, no, no! I dare not.
_Corydon's Farewell to Phillis._
    But in vayne shee did conjure him
      To depart her presence soe;
    Having a thousand tongues to allure him,
      And but one to bid him goe.
_Dulcina._
EDMUND BURKE. 1729-1797.
     The writers against religion, whilst they oppose every system,
     are wisely careful never to set up any of their own.
_A Vindication of Natural Society._[407-1] _Preface, vol. i. p. 7._
     "War," says Machiavel, "ought to be the only study of a prince;"
     and by a prince he means every sort of state, however
     constituted. "He ought," says this great political doctor, "to
     consider peace only as a breathing-time, which gives him leisure
     to contrive, and furnishes ability to execute military plans." A
     meditation on the conduct of political societies made old Hobbes
     imagine that war was the state of nature.
_A Vindication of Natural Society. Vol. i. p. 15._
     I am convinced that we have a degree of delight, and that no
     small one, in the real misfortunes and pains of others.
_On the Sublime and Beautiful. Sect. xiv. vol. 1. p. 118._
     Custom reconciles us to everything.
_On the Sublime and Beautiful. Sect. xviii. vol. i. p. 231._
     There is, however, a limit at which forbearance ceases to be a
     virtue.
_Observations on a Late Publication on the Present State of the Nation.
Vol. i. p. 273._
     The wisdom of our ancestors.
_Observations on a Late Publication on the Present State of the Nation.
Vol. i. p. 516. Also in the Discussion on the Traitorous Correspondence
Bill, 1793._
     Illustrious predecessor.
_Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents. Vol. i. p. 456._
     In such a strait the wisest may well be perplexed and the boldest
     staggered.
_Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents. Vol. i. p. 516._
     When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will
     fall one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible
     struggle.
_Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents. Vol. i. p. 526._
     Of this stamp is the cant of, Not men, but measures.
_Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents. Vol. i. p. 531._
     The concessions of the weak are the concessions of fear.
_Speech on the Conciliation of America. Vol. ii. p. 108._
     There is America, which at this day serves for little more than
     to amuse you with stories of savage men and uncouth manners, yet
     shall, before you taste of death, show itself equal to the whole
     of that commerce which now attracts the envy of the world.
_Speech on the Conciliation of America. Vol. ii. p. 115._
     Fiction lags after truth, invention is unfruitful, and
     imagination cold and barren.
_Speech on the Conciliation of America. Vol. ii. p. 116._
     A people who are still, as it were, but in the gristle, and not
     yet hardened into the bone of manhood.
_Speech on the Conciliation of America. Vol. ii. p. 117._
     A wise and salutary neglect.
_Speech on the Conciliation of America. Vol. ii. p. 117._
     My vigour relents,--I pardon something to the spirit of liberty.
_Speech on the Conciliation of America. Vol. ii. p. 118._
     The religion most prevalent in our northern colonies is a
     refinement on the principles of resistance: it is the dissidence
     of dissent, and the protestantism of the Protestant religion.
_Speech on the Conciliation of America. Vol. ii. p. 123._
     I do not know the method of drawing up an indictment against a
     whole people.
_Speech on the Conciliation of America. Vol. ii. p. 136._
     The march of the human mind is slow.
_Speech on the Conciliation of America. Vol. ii. p. 149._
     All government,--indeed, every human benefit and enjoyment, every
     virtue and every prudent act,--is founded on compromise and
     barter.
_Speech on the Conciliation of America. Vol. ii. p. 169._
     The worthy gentleman who has been snatched from us at the moment
     of the election, and in the middle of the contest, whilst his
     desires were as warm and his hopes as eager as ours, has
     feelingly told us what shadows we are, and what shadows we
     pursue.
_Speech at Bristol on Declining the Poll. Vol. ii. p. 420._
     They made and recorded a sort of institute and digest of anarchy,
     called the Rights of Man.
_On the Army Estimates. Vol iii. p. 221._
     People will not look forward to posterity who never look backward
     to their ancestors.
_Reflections on the Revolution in France. Vol. iii. p. 274._
     You had that action and counteraction which, in the natural and
     in the political world, from the reciprocal struggle of
     discordant powers draws out the harmony of the universe.
_Reflections on the Revolution in France. Vol. iii. p. 277._
     It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen of
     France, then the Dauphiness, at Versailles; and surely never
     lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more
     delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, decorating
     and cheering the elevated sphere she just began to move
     in,--glittering like the morning star full of life and splendour
     and joy. . . . Little did I dream that I should have lived to see
     such disasters fallen upon her in a nation of gallant men,--in a
     nation of men of honour and of cavaliers. I thought ten thousand
     swords must have leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a
     look that threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry is
     gone; that of sophisters, economists, and calculators has
     succeeded.
_Reflections on the Revolution in France. Vol. iii. p. 331._
     The unbought grace of life, the cheap defence of nations, the
     nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise is gone.
_Reflections on the Revolution in France. Vol. iii. p. 331._
     That chastity of honour which felt a stain like a wound.
_Reflections on the Revolution in France. Vol. iii. p. 332._
     Vice itself lost half its evil by losing all its grossness.
_Reflections on the Revolution in France. Vol. iii. p. 332._
     Kings will be tyrants from policy, when subjects are rebels from
     principle.
_Reflections on the Revolution in France. Vol. iii. p. 334._
     Learning will be cast into the mire and trodden down under the
     hoofs of a swinish multitude.
_Reflections on the Revolution in France. Vol. iii. p. 335._
     Because half-a-dozen grasshoppers under a fern make the field
     ring with their importunate chink, whilst thousands of great
     cattle, reposed beneath the shadow of the British oak, chew the
     cud and are silent, pray do not imagine that those who make the
     noise are the only inhabitants of the field; that of course they
     are many in number; or that, after all, they are other than the
     little shrivelled, meagre, hopping, though loud and troublesome
     insects of the hour.
_Reflections on the Revolution in France. Vol. iii. p. 344._
     In their nomination to office they will not appoint to the
     exercise of authority as to a pitiful job, but as to a holy
     function.
_Reflections on the Revolution in France. Vol. iii. p. 356._
     The men of England,--the men, I mean, of light and leading in
     England.
_Reflections on the Revolution in France. Vol. iii. p. 365._
     He that wrestles with us strengthens our nerves and sharpens our
     skill. Our antagonist is our helper.
_Reflections on the Revolution in France. Vol. iii. p. 453._
     To execute laws is a royal office; to execute orders is not to be
     a king. However, a political executive magistracy, though merely
     such, is a great trust.
_Reflections on the Revolution in France. Vol. iii. p. 497._
     You can never plan the future by the past.
_Letter to a Member of the National Assembly. Vol. iv. p. 55._
     The cold neutrality of an impartial judge.
_Preface to Brissot's Address. Vol. v. p. 67._
     And having looked to Government for bread, on the very first
     scarcity they will turn and bite the hand that fed them.
_Thoughts and Details on Scarcity. Vol. v. p. 156._
     All men that are ruined, are ruined on the side of their natural
     propensities.
_Letter i. On a Regicide Peace. Vol. v. p. 286._
     All those instances to be found in history, whether real or
     fabulous, of a doubtful public spirit, at which morality is
     perplexed, reason is staggered, and from which affrighted Nature
     recoils, are their chosen and almost sole examples for the
     instruction of their youth.
_Letter i. On a Regicide Peace. Vol. v. p. 311._
     Example is the school of mankind, and they will learn at no
     other.
_Letter i. On a Regicide Peace. Vol. v. p. 331._
     Early and provident fear is the mother of safety.
_Speech on the Petition of the Unitarians. Vol. vii. p. 50._
     There never was a bad man that had ability for good service.
_Speech in opening the Impeachment of Warren Hastings. Third Day. Vol. x.
p. 54._
     The people never give up their liberties but under some delusion.
_Speech at County Meeting of Bucks, 1784._
     I would rather sleep in the southern corner of a little country
     churchyard than in the tomb of the Capulets.
_Letter to Matthew Smith._
     It has all the contortions of the sibyl without the
     inspiration.
_Prior's Life of Burke._
     He was not merely a chip of the old block, but the old block
     itself.
_On Pitt's First Speech, Feb. 26, 1781. From Wraxall's Memoirs, First
Series, vol. i. p. 342._
CHARLES CHURCHILL. 1731-1764.
    He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.
_The Rosciad. Line 322._
    But, spite of all the criticising elves,
    Those who would make us feel--must feel themselves.
_The Rosciad. Line 961._
    Who to patch up his fame, or fill his purse,
    Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse;
    Like gypsies, lest the stolen brat be known,
    Defacing first, then claiming for his own.
_The Apology. Line 232._
    No statesman e'er will find it worth his pains
    To tax our labours and excise our brains.
_Night. Line 271._
    Apt alliteration 's artful aid.
_The Prophecy of Famine. Line 86._
    There webs were spread of more than common size,
    And half-starved spiders prey'd on half-starved flies.
_The Prophecy of Famine. Line 327._
    With curious art the brain, too finely wrought,
    Preys on herself, and is destroyed by thought.
_Epistle to William Hogarth. Line 645._
    Men the most infamous are fond of fame,
    And those who fear not guilt yet start at shame.
_The Author. Line 233._
    Be England what she will,
    With all her faults she is my country still.
_The Farewell. Line 27._
Wherever waves can roll, and winds can blow.
_The Farewell. Line 38._
WILLIAM COWPER. 1731-1800.
    Is base in kind, and born to be a slave.
_Table Talk. Line 28._
    As if the world and they were hand and glove.
_Table Talk. Line 173._
           Happiness depends, as Nature shows,
    Less on exterior things than most suppose.
_Table Talk. Line 246._
    Freedom has a thousand charms to show,
    That slaves, howe'er contented, never know.
_Table Talk. Line 260._
    Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ,
    The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.
_Table Talk. Line 542._
    Ages elapsed ere Homer's lamp appear'd,
    And ages ere the Mantuan swan was heard:
    To carry nature lengths unknown before,
    To give a Milton birth, ask'd ages more.
_Table Talk. Line 556._
    Elegant as simplicity, and warm
    As ecstasy.
_Table Talk. Line 588._
    Low ambition and the thirst of praise.
_Table Talk. Line 591._
    Made poetry a mere mechanic art.
_Table Talk. Line 654._
    Nature, exerting an unwearied power,
    Forms, opens, and gives scent to every flower;
    Spreads the fresh verdure of the field, and leads
    The dancing Naiads through the dewy meads.
_Table Talk. Line 690._
    Lights of the world, and stars of human race.
_The Progress of Error. Line 97._
    How much a dunce that has been sent to roam
    Excels a dunce that has been kept at home!
_The Progress of Error. Line 415._
    Just knows, and knows no more, her Bible true,
    A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew.
_Truth. Line 327._
    The sounding jargon of the schools.
_Truth. Line 367._
    When one that holds communion with the skies
    Has fill'd his urn where these pure waters rise,
    And once more mingles with us meaner things,
    'T is e'en as if an angel shook his wings.
_Charity. Line 435._
    A fool must now and then be right by chance.
_Conversation. Line 96._
    He would not, with a peremptory tone,
    Assert the nose upon his face his own.
_Conversation. Line 121._
    A moral, sensible, and well-bred man
    Will not affront me,--and no other can.
_Conversation. Line 193._
    Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys,
    Unfriendly to society's chief joys:
    Thy worst effect is banishing for hours
    The sex whose presence civilizes ours.
_Conversation. Line 251._
    I cannot talk with civet in the room,
    A fine puss-gentleman that 's all perfume.
_Conversation. Line 283._
    The solemn fop; significant and budge;
    A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge.
_Conversation. Line 299._
    His wit invites you by his looks to come,
    But when you knock, it never is at home.
_Conversation. Line 303._
    Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
    Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.
_Conversation. Line 357._
    That good diffused may more abundant grow.
_Conversation. Line 443._
    A business with an income at its heels
    Furnishes always oil for its own wheels.
_Retirement. Line 614._
    Absence of occupation is not rest,
    A mind quite vacant is a mind distress'd.
_Retirement. Line 623._
    An idler is a watch that wants both hands,
    As useless if it goes as if it stands.
_Retirement. Line 681._
    Built God a church, and laugh'd his word to scorn.
_Retirement. Line 688._
                 Philologists, who chase
    A panting syllable through time and space,
    Start it at home, and hunt it in the dark
    To Gaul, to Greece, and into Noah's ark.
_Retirement. Line 691._
    I praise the Frenchman,[416-1] his remark was shrewd,
    How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude!
    But grant me still a friend in my retreat,
    Whom I may whisper, Solitude is sweet.
_Retirement. Line 739._
    A kick that scarce would move a horse
      May kill a sound divine.
_The Yearly Distress._
    I am monarch of all I survey,
      My right there is none to dispute.
_Verses supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk._
    O Solitude! where are the charms
      That sages have seen in thy face?
_Verses supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk._
    But the sound of the church-going bell
      These valleys and rocks never heard;
    Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell,
      Or smiled when a Sabbath appear'd.
_Verses supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk._
    How fleet is a glance of the mind!
      Compared with the speed of its flight
    The tempest itself lags behind,
      And the swift-winged, arrows of light.
_Verses supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk._
    There goes the parson, O illustrious spark!
    And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk.
_On observing some Names of Little Note._
    But oars alone can ne'er prevail
      To reach the distant coast;
    The breath of heaven must swell the sail,
      Or all the toil is lost.
_Human Frailty._
    And the tear that is wiped with a little address,
    May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.
_The Rose._
    'T is Providence alone secures
    In every change both mine and yours.
_A Fable. Moral._
    I shall not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau
    If birds confabulate or no.
_Pairing Time Anticipated._
    Misses! the tale that I relate
      This lesson seems to carry,
    Choose not alone a proper mate,
      But proper time to marry.
_Pairing Time Anticipated._
    That though on pleasure she was bent,
      She had a frugal mind.
_History of John Gilpin._
    A hat not much the worse for wear.
_History of John Gilpin._
    Now let us sing, Long live the king!
      And Gilpin, Long live he!
    And when he next doth ride abroad,
      May I be there to see!
_History of John Gilpin._
    The path of sorrow, and that path alone,
    Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown.
_To an Afflicted Protestant Lady._
    United yet divided, twain at once:
    So sit two kings of Brentford on one throne.
_The Task. Book i. The Sofa. Line 77._
    Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds,
    Exhilarate the spirit, and restore
    The tone of languid nature.
_The Task. Book i. The Sofa. Line 181._
    The earth was made so various, that the mind
    Of desultory man, studious of change
    And pleased with novelty, might be indulged.
_The Task. Book i. The Sofa. Line 506._
                                Doing good,
    Disinterested good, is not our trade.
_The Task. Book i. The Sofa. Line 673._
    God made the country, and man made the town.
_The Task. Book i. The Sofa. Line 749._
    Oh for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
    Some boundless contiguity of shade,
    Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
    Of unsuccessful or successful war,
    Might never reach me more.
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 1._
                       Mountains interposed
    Make enemies of nations who had else,
    Like kindred drops, been mingled into one.
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 17._
    I would not have a slave to till my ground,
    To carry me, to fan me while I sleep
    And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth
    That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 29._
    Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs
    Receive our air, that moment they are free!
    They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 40._
    Fast-anchor'd isle.
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 151._
    England, with all thy faults I love thee still,
    My country!
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 206._
    Presume to lay their hand upon the ark
    Of her magnificent and awful cause.
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 231._
                            Praise enough
    To fill the ambition of a private man,
    That Chatham's language was his mother tongue.
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 235._
    There is a pleasure in poetic pains
    Which only poets know.
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 285._
                         Transforms old print
    To zigzag manuscript, and cheats the eyes
    Of gallery critics by a thousand arts.
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 363._
                Reading what they never wrote,
    Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work,
    And with a well-bred whisper close the scene.
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 411._
    Whoe'er was edified, themselves were not.
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 444._
    Variety 's the very spice of life.
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 606._
                       She that asks
    Her dear five hundred friends.
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 642._
                                 His head,
    Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er,
    Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth,
    But strong for service still, and unimpair'd.
_The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 702._
    Domestic happiness, thou only bliss
    Of Paradise that has survived the fall!
_The Task. Book iii. The Garden. Line 41._
    Great contest follows, and much learned dust.
_The Task. Book iii. The Garden. Line 161._
    From reveries so airy, from the toil
    Of dropping buckets into empty wells,
    And growing old in drawing nothing up.
_The Task. Book iii. The Garden. Line 188._
    How various his employments whom the world
    Calls idle, and who justly in return
    Esteems that busy world an idler too!
_The Task. Book iii. The Garden. Line 352._
    Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.
_The Task. Book iii. The Garden. Line 566._
    I burn to set the imprison'd wranglers free,
    And give them voice and utterance once again.
    Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
    Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
    And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn
    Throws up a steamy column, and the cups
    That cheer but not inebriate[420-1] wait on each,
    So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
_The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 34._
    Which not even critics criticise.
_The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 51._
    What is it but a map of busy life,
    Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns?
_The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 55._
    And Katerfelto, with his hair on end
    At his own wonders, wondering for his bread.
    'T is pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat,
    To peep at such a world,--to see the stir
    Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd.
_The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 86._
    While fancy, like the finger of a clock,
    Runs the great circuit, and is still at home.
_The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 118._
    O Winter, ruler of the inverted year!
_The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 120._
    With spots quadrangular of diamond form,
    Ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife,
    And spades, the emblems of untimely graves.
_The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 217._
    In indolent vacuity of thought.
_The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 297._
    It seems the part of wisdom.
_The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 336._
    All learned, and all drunk!
_The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 478._
    Gloriously drunk, obey the important call.
_The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening, Line 510._
                    Those golden times
    And those Arcadian scenes that Maro sings,
    And Sidney, warbler of poetic prose.
_The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 514._
    The Frenchman's darling.
_The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 765._
    Some must be great. Great offices will have
    Great talents. And God gives to every man
    The virtue, temper, understanding, taste,
    That lifts him into life, and lets him fall
    Just in the niche he was ordain'd to fill.
_The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 788._
    Silently as a dream the fabric rose,
    No sound of hammer or of saw was there.
_The Task. Book v. The Winter Morning Walk. Line 144._
    But war 's a game which were their subjects wise
    Kings would not play at.
_The Task. Book v. The Winter Morning Walk. Line 187._
    The beggarly last doit.
_The Task. Book v. The Winter Morning Walk. Line 316._
    As dreadful as the Manichean god,
    Adored through fear, strong only to destroy.
_The Task. Book v. The Winter Morning Walk. Line 444._
    He is the freeman whom the truth makes free.
_The Task. Book v. The Winter Morning Walk. Line 733._
                  With filial confidence inspired,
    Can lift to Heaven an unpresumptuous eye,
    And smiling say, My Father made them all!
_The Task. Book v. The Winter Morning Walk. Line 745._
    Give what thou canst, without Thee we are poor;
    And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.
_The Task. Book v. The Winter Morning Walk. Line 905._
    There is in souls a sympathy with sounds;
    And as the mind is pitch'd the ear is pleased.
    With melting airs or martial, brisk or grave;
    Some chord in unison with what we hear
    Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies.
    How soft the music of those village bells
    Falling at intervals upon the ear
    In cadence sweet!
_The Task. Book vi. Winter Walk at Noon. Line 1._
                        Here the heart
    May give a useful lesson to the head,
    And Learning wiser grow without his books.
_The Task. Book vi. Winter Walk at Noon. Line 85._
    Knowledge is proud that he has learn'd so much;
    Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.
    Books are not seldom talismans and spells.
_The Task. Book vi. Winter Walk at Noon. Line 96._
    Some to the fascination of a name
    Surrender judgment hoodwink'd.
_The Task. Book vi. Winter Walk at Noon. Line 101._
    I would not enter on my list of friends
    (Though graced with polish'd manners and fine sense,
    Yet wanting sensibility) the man
    Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
_The Task. Book vi. Winter Walk at Noon. Line 560._
    An honest man, close-button'd to the chin,
    Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within.
_Epistle to Joseph Hill._
    Shine by the side of every path we tread
    With such a lustre, he that runs may read.
_Tirocinium. Line 79._
    What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd!
      How sweet their memory still!
    But they have left an aching void
      The world can never fill.
_Walking with God._
    And Satan trembles when he sees
    The weakest saint upon his knees.
_Exhortation to Prayer._
    God moves in a mysterious way
      His wonders to perform;
    He plants his footsteps in the sea
      And rides upon the storm.
_Light shining out of Darkness._
    Behind a frowning providence
      He hides a shining face.
_Light shining out of Darkness._
    Beware of desperate steps! The darkest day,
    Live till to-morrow, will have pass'd away.
_The Needless Alarm. Moral._
    Oh that those lips had language! Life has pass'd
    With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
_On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture._
    The son of parents pass'd into the skies.
_On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture._
    The man that hails you Tom or Jack,
    And proves, by thumping on your back,
      His sense of your great merit,
    Is such a friend that one had need
    Be very much his friend indeed
      To pardon or to bear it.
_On Friendship._
    A worm is in the bud of youth,
      And at the root of age.
_Stanzas subjoined to a Bill of Mortality._
    Toll for the brave!
      The brave that are no more!
    All sunk beneath the wave,
      Fast by their native shore!
_On the Loss of the Royal George._
    There is a bird who by his coat,
    And by the hoarseness of his note,
      Might be supposed a crow.
_The Jackdaw._ (Translation from Vincent Bourne.)
    He sees that this great roundabout
    The world, with all its motley rout,
      Church, army, physic, law,
    Its customs and its businesses,
    Is no concern at all of his,
      And says--what says he?--Caw.
_The Jackdaw._ (Translation from Vincent Bourne.)
    For 't is a truth well known to most,
    That whatsoever thing is lost,
    We seek it, ere it come to light,
    In every cranny but the right.
_The Retired Cat._
    He that holds fast the golden mean,
    And lives contentedly between
      The little and the great,
    Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,
    Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door.
_Translation of Horace. Book ii. Ode x._
    But strive still to be a man before your mother.
_Connoisseur. Motto of No. iii._
ERASMUS DARWIN. 1731-1802.
    Soon shall thy arm, unconquer'd steam! afar
    Drag the slow barge, or drive the rapid car;
    Or on wide-waving wings expanded bear
    The flying chariot through the field of air.
_The Botanic Garden. Part i. Canto i. Line 289._
    No radiant pearl which crested Fortune wears,
    No gem that twinkling hangs from Beauty's ears,
    Not the bright stars which Night's blue arch adorn,
    Nor rising suns that gild the vernal morn,
    Shine with such lustre as the tear that flows
    Down Virtue's manly cheek for others' woes.
_The Botanic Garden. Part ii. Canto iii. Line 459._
BEILBY PORTEUS. 1731-1808.
                        In sober state,
    Through the sequestered vale of rural life,
    The venerable patriarch guileless held
    The tenor of his way.
_Death. Line 108._
             One murder made a villain,
    Millions a hero. Princes were privileged
    To kill, and numbers sanctified the crime.
_Death. Line 154._
    War its thousands slays, Peace its ten thousands.
_Death. Line 178._
                      Teach him how to live,
    And, oh still harder lesson! how to die.
_Death. Line 316._
GEORGE WASHINGTON. 1732-1799.
     Labour to keep alive in your breast that little spark of
     celestial fire,--conscience.
_Rule from the Copy-book of Washington when a schoolboy._
     To be prepared for war is one of the most effectual means of
     preserving peace.
_Speech to both Houses of Congress, Jan. 8, 1790._
     'T is our true policy to steer clear of permanent alliances with
     any portion of the foreign world.
_His Farewell Address._
LORD THURLOW. 1732-1806.
     The accident of an accident.
_Speech in Reply to the Duke of Grafton. Butler's Reminiscences, vol. i.
p. 142._
     When I forget my sovereign, may my God forget me.
_27 Parliamentary History, 680; Annual Register, 1789._
JOHN DICKINSON. 1732-1808.
    Then join in hand, brave Americans all!
    By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall.
_The Liberty Song_ (1768).
    Our cause is just, our union is perfect.
_Declaration on taking up Arms in 1775._
W. J. MICKLE. 1734-1788.
    The dews of summer nights did fall,
      The moon, sweet regent of the sky,
    Silvered the walls of Cumnor Hall
      And many an oak that grew thereby.
_Cumnor Hall._
    For there 's nae luck about the house,
      There 's nae luck at a';
    There 's little pleasure in the house
      When our gudeman 's awa'.
_The Mariner's Wife._
    His very foot has music in 't
      As he comes up the stairs.
_The Mariner's Wife._
JOHN LANGHORNE. 1735-1779.
    Cold on Canadian hills or Minden's plain,
    Perhaps that parent mourned her soldier slain;
    Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew,
    The big drops mingling with the milk he drew
    Gave the sad presage of his future years,
    The child of misery, baptized in tears.
_The Country Justice. Part i._
ISAAC BICKERSTAFF. 1735-1787.
    Hope! thou nurse of young desire.
_Love in a Village. Act i. Sc. 1._
    There was a jolly miller once,
      Lived on the river Dee;
    He worked and sung from morn till night:
      No lark more blithe than he.
_Love in a Village. Act i. Sc. 2._
    And this the burden of his song
      Forever used to be,
    I care for nobody, no, not I,
      If no one cares for me.
_Love in a Village. Act i. Sc. 2._
     Young fellows will be young fellows.
_Love in a Village. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     Ay, do despise me! I 'm the prouder for it; I like to be
     despised.
_The Hypocrite. Act v. Sc. 1._
JAMES BEATTIE. 1735-1803.
    Ah, who can tell how hard it is to climb
    The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar?
_The Minstrel. Book i. Stanza 1._
    Zealous, yet modest; innocent, though free;
    Patient of toil, serene amidst alarms;
    Inflexible in faith, invincible in arms.
_The Minstrel. Book i. Stanza 11._
    Old age comes on apace to ravage all the clime.
_The Minstrel. Book i. Stanza 25._
    Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down,
    Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,
    With here and there a violet bestrewn,
    Fast by a brook or fountain's murmuring wave;
    And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave!
_The Minstrel. Book ii. Stanza 17._
    At the close of the day when the hamlet is still,
    And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
    When naught but the torrent is heard on the hill,
    And naught but the nightingale's song in the grove.
_The Hermit._
    He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man.
_The Hermit._
    But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn?
    Oh when shall it dawn on the night of the grave?
_The Hermit._
          By the glare of false science betray'd,
    That leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind.
_The Hermit._
    And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.
_The Hermit._
JOHN ADAMS. 1735-1826.
     Yesterday the greatest question was decided which ever was
     debated in America; and a greater perhaps never was, nor will be,
     decided among men. A resolution was passed without one dissenting
     colony, that those United Colonies are, and of right ought to be,
     free and independent States.
_Letter to Mrs. Adams, July 3, 1776._
     The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epocha
     in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be
     celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary
     festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance,
     by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be
     solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns,
     bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this
     continent to the other, from this time forward for evermore.
_Letter to Mrs. Adams, July 3, 1776._
PATRICK HENRY. 1736-1799.
     Cæsar had his Brutus; Charles the First, his Cromwell; and George
     the Third ["Treason!" cried the Speaker]--_may profit by their
     example_. If _this_ be treason, make the most of it.
_Speech in the Virginia Convention, 1765._
     I am not a Virginian, but an American.
_Speech in the Virginia Convention. September, 1774._
     I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the
     lamp of experience. I know no way of judging of the future but by
     the past.
_Speech in the Virginia Convention. March, 1775._
     Is life so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price
     of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what
     course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give
     me death!
_Speech in the Virginia Convention. March, 1775._
EDWARD GIBBON. 1737-1794.
     The reign of Antoninus is marked by the rare advantage of
     furnishing very few materials for history, which is indeed little
     more than the register of the crimes, follies, and misfortunes of
     mankind.
_Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ (1776). _Chap. iii._
     Revenge is profitable, gratitude is expensive.
_Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ (1776). _Chap. xi._
     Amiable weaknesses of human nature.
_Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ (1776). _Chap. xiv._
     In every deed of mischief he had a heart to resolve, a head to
     contrive, and a hand to execute.
_Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ (1776). _Chap. xlviii._
     Our sympathy is cold to the relation of distant misery.
_Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ (1776). _Chap. xlix._
     The winds and waves are always on the side of the ablest
     navigators.
_Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ (1776). _Chap. lxviii._
     Vicissitudes of fortune, which spares neither man nor the
     proudest of his works, which buries empires and cities in a
     common grave.
_Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ (1776). _Chap. lxxi._
     All that is human must retrograde if it do not advance.
_Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ (1776). _Chap. lxxi._
     I saw and loved.
_Memoirs. Vol. i. p. 106._
     On the approach of spring I withdraw without reluctance from the
     noisy and extensive scene of crowds without company, and
     dissipation without pleasure.
_Memoirs. Vol. i. p. 116._
     I was never less alone than when by myself.
_Memoirs. Vol. i. p. 117._
THOMAS PAINE. 1737-1809.
     And the final event to himself [Mr. Burke] has been, that, as he
     rose like a rocket, he fell like the stick.
_Letter to the Addressers._
     These are the times that try men's souls.
_The American Crisis. No. 1._
     The sublime and the ridiculous are often so nearly related, that
     it is difficult to class them separately. One step above the
     sublime makes the ridiculous, and one step above the ridiculous
     makes the sublime again.
_Age of Reason. Part ii. note._
JOHN WOLCOT. 1738-1819.
    What rage for fame attends both great and small!
    Better be damned than mentioned not at all.
_To the Royal Academicians._
    No, let the monarch's bags and others hold
    The flattering, mighty, nay, al-mighty gold.
_To Kien Long. Ode iv._
    Care to our coffin adds a nail, no doubt,
    And every grin so merry draws one out.
_Expostulatory Odes. Ode xv._
    A fellow in a market town,
    Most musical, cried razors up and down.
_Farewell Odes. Ode iii._
MRS. THRALE. 1739-1821.
    The tree of deepest root is found
    Least willing still to quit the ground:
    'T was therefore said by ancient sages,
      That love of life increased with years
    So much, that in our latter stages,
    When pain grows sharp and sickness rages,
      The greatest love of life appears.
_Three Warnings._
CHARLES MORRIS. 1739-1832.
    Solid men of Boston, banish long potations!
    Solid men of Boston, make no long orations!
_Pitt and Dundas's Return to London from Wimbledon. American Song. From
Lyra Urbanica._
    O give me the sweet shady side of Pall Mall!
_Town and Country._
A. M. TOPLADY. 1740-1778.
    Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
    Let me hide myself in thee.
_Salvation through Christ._
THOMAS MOSS. 1740-1808.
    Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,
      Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door,
    Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span;
      Oh give relief, and Heaven will bless your store.
_The Beggar._
    A pampered menial drove me from the door.
_The Beggar._
MRS. BARBAULD. 1743-1825.
    Man is the nobler growth our realms supply,
    And souls are ripened in our northern sky.
_The Invitation._
    This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
    And Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
_A Summer's Evening Meditation._
     It is to hope, though hope were lost.
_Come here, Fond Youth._
      Life! we 've been long together
    Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
      'T is hard to part when friends are dear,
      Perhaps 't will cost a sigh, a tear;
      Then steal away, give little warning,
        Choose thine own time;
    Say not "Good night," but in some brighter clime
        Bid me "Good morning."
_Life._
    So fades a summer cloud away;
      So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;
    So gently shuts the eye of day;
      So dies a wave along the shore.
_The Death of the Virtuous._
     Child of mortality, whence comest thou? Why is thy countenance
     sad, and why are thine eyes red with weeping?
_Hymns in Prose. xiii._
THOMAS JEFFERSON. 1743-1826.
     The God who gave us life, gave us liberty at the same time.
_Summary View of the Rights of British America._
     When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one
     people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them
     with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth the
     separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of
     nature's God[434-2] entitle them, a decent respect to the
     opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes
     which impel them to the separation.
_Declaration of Independence._
     We hold these truths to be self-evident,--that all men are
     created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with
     certain unalienable rights;[434-3] that among these are life,
     liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
_Declaration of Independence._
     We mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our
     sacred honour.
_Declaration of Independence._
     Error of opinion may be tolerated where reason is left free to
     combat it.
_First Inaugural Address. March 4, 1801._
     Equal and exact justice to all men, of whatever state or
     persuasion, religious or political; peace, commerce, and honest
     friendship with all nations,--entangling alliances with none; the
     support of the State governments in all their rights, as the most
     competent administrations for our domestic concerns, and the
     surest bulwarks against anti-republican tendencies; the
     preservation of the general government in its whole
     constitutional vigour, as the sheet anchor of our peace at home
     and safety abroad; . . . freedom of religion; freedom of the
     press; freedom of person under the protection of the habeas
     corpus; and trial by juries impartially selected,--these
     principles form the bright constellation which has gone before
     us, and guided our steps through an age of revolution and
     reformation.
_First Inaugural Address. March 4, 1801._
     In the full tide of successful experiment.
_First Inaugural Address. March 4, 1801._
     Of the various executive abilities, no one excited more anxious
     concern than that of placing the interests of our fellow-citizens
     in the hands of honest men, with understanding sufficient for
     their stations.[435-1] No duty is at the same time more difficult
     to fulfil. The knowledge of character possessed by a single
     individual is of necessity limited. To seek out the best through
     the whole Union, we must resort to the information which from the
     best of men, acting disinterestedly and with the purest motives,
     is sometimes incorrect.
_Letter to Elias Shipman and others of New Haven, July 12, 1801._
     If a due participation of office is a matter of right, how are
     vacancies to be obtained? Those by death are few; by resignation,
     none.
_Letter to Elias Shipman and others of New Haven, July 12, 1801._
     When a man assumes a public trust, he should consider himself as
     public property.
_Life of Jefferson_ (Rayner), _p. 356._
     Indeed, I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just.
_Notes on Virginia. Query xviii. Manners._
JOSIAH QUINCY, JR. 1744-1775.
     Blandishments will not fascinate us, nor will threats of a
     "halter" intimidate. For, under God, we are determined that
     wheresoever, whensoever, or howsoever we shall be called to make
     our exit, we will die free men.
_Observations on the Boston Port Bill, 1774._
CHARLES DIBDIN. 1745-1814.
    There 's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft,
    To keep watch for the life of poor Jack.
_Poor Jack._
    Did you ever hear of Captain Wattle?
    He was all for love, and a little for the bottle.
_Captain Wattle and Miss Roe._
    His form was of the manliest beauty,
      His heart was kind and soft;
    Faithful below he did his duty,
      But now he 's gone aloft.
_Tom Bowling._
    For though his body 's under hatches,
      His soul has gone aloft.
_Tom Bowling._
    Spanking Jack was so comely, so pleasant, so jolly,
      Though winds blew great guns, still he 'd whistle and sing;
    Jack loved his friend, and was true to his Molly,
      And if honour gives greatness, was great as a king.
_The Sailor's Consolation._
HANNAH MORE. 1745-1833.
    To those who know thee not, no words can paint!
    And those who know thee, know all words are faint!
_Sensibility._
    Since trifles make the sum of human things,
    And half our misery from our foibles springs.
_Sensibility._
    In men this blunder still you find,
    All think their little set mankind.
_Florio. Part i._
    Small habits well pursued betimes
    May reach the dignity of crimes.
_Florio. Part i._
LORD STOWELL. 1745-1836.
     A dinner lubricates business.
_Life of Johnson_ (Boswell). _Vol. viii. p. 67, note._
     The elegant simplicity of the three per cents.
_Lives of the Lord Chancellors_ (Campbell). _Vol. x. Chap. 212._
SIR WILLIAM JONES. 1746-1794.
    Than all Bocara's vaunted gold,
    Than all the gems of Samarcand.
_A Persian Song of Hafiz._
    Go boldly forth, my simple lay,
    Whose accents flow with artless ease,
    Like orient pearls at random strung.
_A Persian Song of Hafiz._
    On parent knees, a naked new-born child,
    Weeping thou sat'st while all around thee smiled;
    So live, that sinking in thy last long sleep,
    Calm thou mayst smile, while all around thee weep.
_From the Persian._
    What constitutes a state?
          .      .      .      .      .      .      .
                    Men who their duties know,
    But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain.
          .      .      .      .      .      .      .
    And sovereign law, that state's collected will,
        O'er thrones and globes elate,
    Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.
_Ode in Imitation of Alcæus._
    Seven hours to law, to soothing slumber seven,
    Ten to the world allot, and all to heaven.
JOHN LOGAN. 1748-1788.
    Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
      No winter in thy year.
_To the Cuckoo._
    Oh could I fly, I 'd fly with thee!
      We 'd make with joyful wing
    Our annual visit o'er the globe,
      Companions of the spring.
_To the Cuckoo._
JONATHAN M. SEWALL. 1748-1808.
    No pent-up Utica contracts your powers,
    But the whole boundless continent is yours.
_Epilogue to Cato._
JOHN EDWIN. 1749-1790.
    A man's ingress into the world is naked and bare,
    His progress through the world is trouble and care;
    And lastly, his egress out of the world, is nobody knows where.
    If we do well here, we shall do well there:
    I can tell you no more if I preach a whole year.
_The Eccentricities of John Edwin_ (second edition), _vol. i. p. 74.
London, 1791._
JOHN TRUMBULL. 1750-1831.
    But optics sharp it needs, I ween,
    To see what is not to be seen.
_M^cFingal. Canto i. Line 67._
    But as some muskets so contrive it
    As oft to miss the mark they drive at,
    And though well aimed at duck or plover,
    Bear wide, and kick their owners over.
_M^cFingal. Canto i. Line 93._
        As though there were a tie
    And obligation to posterity.
    We get them, bear them, breed, and nurse:
    What has posterity done for us
    That we, lest they their rights should lose,
    Should trust our necks to gripe of noose?
_M^cFingal. Canto ii. Line 121._
    No man e'er felt the halter draw,
    With good opinion of the law.
_M^cFingal. Canto iii. Line 489._
RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 1751-1816.
     Illiterate him, I say, quite from your memory.
_The Rivals. Act i. Sc. 2._
     'T is safest in matrimony to begin with a little aversion.
_The Rivals. Act i. Sc. 2._
     A progeny of learning.
_The Rivals. Act i. Sc. 2._
     A circulating library in a town is as an evergreen tree of
     diabolical knowledge.
_The Rivals. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     He is the very pine-apple of politeness!
_The Rivals. Act iii. Sc. 3._
     If I reprehend anything in this world, it is the use of my
     oracular tongue, and a nice derangement of epitaphs!
_The Rivals. Act iii. Sc. 3._
     As headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile.
_The Rivals. Act iii. Sc. 3._
     Too civil by half.
_The Rivals. Act iii. Sc. 4._
     Our ancestors are very good kind of folks; but they are the last
     people I should choose to have a visiting acquaintance with.
_The Rivals. Act iv. Sc. 1._
     No caparisons, miss, if you please. Caparisons don't become a
     young woman.
_The Rivals. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     We will not anticipate the past; so mind, young people,--our
     retrospection will be all to the future.
_The Rivals. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     You are not like Cerberus, three gentlemen at once, are you?
_The Rivals. Act iv. Sc. 2._
     The quarrel is a very pretty quarrel as it stands; we should only
     spoil it by trying to explain it.
_The Rivals. Act iv. Sc. 3._
     You 're our enemy; lead the way, and we 'll precede.
_The Rivals. Act v. Sc. 1._
     There 's nothing like being used to a thing.
_The Rivals. Act v. Sc. 3._
     As there are three of us come on purpose for the game, you won't
     be so cantankerous as to spoil the party by sitting out.
_The Rivals. Act v. Sc. 3._
     My valour is certainly going! it is sneaking off! I feel it
     oozing out, as it were, at the palm of my hands!
_The Rivals. Act v. Sc. 3._
     I own the soft impeachment.
_The Rivals. Act v. Sc. 3._
     Steal! to be sure they may; and, egad, serve your best thoughts
     as gypsies do stolen children,--disfigure them to make 'em pass
     for their own.
_The Critic. Act i. Sc. 1._
     The newspapers! Sir, they are the most villanous, licentious,
     abominable, infernal-- Not that I ever read them! No, I make it a
     rule never to look into a newspaper.
_The Critic. Act i. Sc. 2._
     Egad, I think the interpreter is the hardest to be understood of
     the two!
_The Critic. Act i. Sc. 2._
     Sheer necessity,--the proper parent of an art so nearly allied to
     invention.
_The Critic. Act i. Sc. 2._
     No scandal about Queen Elizabeth, I hope?
_The Critic. Act ii. Sc. 1._
     Certainly nothing is unnatural that is not physically impossible.
_The Critic. Act ii. Sc. 1._
     Where they _do_ agree on the stage, their unanimity is wonderful.
_The Critic. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     Inconsolable to the minuet in Ariadne.
_The Critic. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     The Spanish fleet thou canst not see, because--it is not yet in
     sight!
_The Critic. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     An oyster may be crossed in love.
_The Critic. Act iii. Sc. 1._
     You shall see them on a beautiful quarto page, where a neat
     rivulet of text shall meander through a meadow of margin.
_School for Scandal. Act i. Sc. 1._
     Here is the whole set! a character dead at every word.
_School for Scandal. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     I leave my character behind me.
_School for Scandal. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Here 's to the maiden of bashful fifteen;
      Here 's to the widow of fifty;
    Here 's to the flaunting, extravagant quean,
      And here 's to the housewife that 's thrifty!
              Let the toast pass;
              Drink to the lass;
    I 'll warrant she 'll prove an excuse for the glass.
_School for Scandal. Act iii. Sc. 3._
     An unforgiving eye, and a damned disinheriting countenance.
_School for Scandal. Act v. Sc. 1._
     It was an amiable weakness.
_School for Scandal. Act v. Sc. 1._
    I ne'er could any lustre see
    In eyes that would not look on me;
    I ne'er saw nectar on a lip
    But where my own did hope to sip.
_The Duenna. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Had I a heart for falsehood framed,
      I ne'er could injure you.
_The Duenna. Act i. Sc. 5._
     Conscience has no more to do with gallantry than it has with
     politics.
_The Duenna. Act ii. Sc. 4._
    While his off-heel, insidiously aside.
    Provokes the caper which he seems to chide.
_Pizarro. The Prologue._
     Such protection as vultures give to lambs.
_Pizarro. Act ii. Sc. 2._
     A life spent worthily should be measured by a nobler line,--by
     deeds, not years.
_Pizarro. Act iv. Sc. 1._
     The Right Honorable gentleman is indebted to his memory for his
     jests, and to his imagination for his facts.
_Speech in Reply to Mr. Dundas. Sheridaniana._
    You write with ease to show your breeding,
    But easy writing 's curst hard reading.
_Clio's Protest. Life of Sheridan_ (Moore). _Vol. i. p. 155._
PHILIP FRENEAU. 1752-1832.
    The hunter and the deer a shade.
_The Indian Burying-Ground._
    Then rushed to meet the insulting foe;
    They took the spear, but left the shield.
_To the Memory of the Americans who fell at Eutaw._
GEORGE CRABBE. 1754-1832.
    Oh, rather give me commentators plain,
    Who with no deep researches vex the brain;
    Who from the dark and doubtful love to run,
    And hold their glimmering tapers to the sun.
_The Parish Register. Part i. Introduction._
    Her air, her manners, all who saw admir'd;
    Courteous though coy, and gentle though retir'd;
    The joy of youth and health her eyes display'd,
    And ease of heart her every look convey'd.
_The Parish Register. Part ii. Marriages._
    In this fool's paradise he drank delight.
_The Borough. Letter xii. Players._
    Books cannot always please, however good;
    Minds are not ever craving for their food.
_The Borough. Letter xxiv. Schools._
    In idle wishes fools supinely stay;
    Be there a will, and wisdom finds a way.
_The Birth of Flattery._
    Cut and come again.
_Tales. Tale vii. The Widow's Tale._
    Better to love amiss than nothing to have loved.
_Tales. Tale xiv. The Struggles of Conscience._
    But 't was a maxim he had often tried,
    That right was right, and there he would abide.
_Tales. Tale xv. The Squire and the Priest._
    'T was good advice, and meant, my son, Be good.
_Tales. Tale xxi. The Learned Boy._
    He tried the luxury of doing good.
_Tales of the Hall. Book iii. Boys at School._
    To sigh, yet not recede; to grieve, yet not repent.
_Tales of the Hall. Book iii. Boys at School._
    And took for truth the test of ridicule.
_Tales of the Hall. Book viii. The Sisters._
    Time has touched me gently in his race,
    And left no odious furrows in my face.
_Tales of the Hall. Book xvii. The Widow._
GEORGE BARRINGTON. 1755- ----.
    True patriots all; for be it understood
    We left our country for our country's good.
_Prologue written for the Opening of the Play-house at New South Wales,
Jan. 16, 1796._
HENRY LEE. 1756-1816.
     To the memory of the Man, first in war, first in peace, and first
     in the hearts of his countrymen.
_Memoirs of Lee. Eulogy on Washington, Dec. 26, 1799._
J. P. KEMBLE. 1757-1823.
    Perhaps it was right to dissemble your love,
    But--why did you kick me down stairs?
_The Panel. Act i. Sc. 1._
HORATIO NELSON. 1758-1805.
     In the battle off Cape St. Vincent, Nelson gave orders for
     boarding the "San Josef," exclaiming "Westminster Abbey, or
     victory!"
_Life of Nelson_ (Southey). _Vol. i. p. 93._
     England expects every man to do his duty.
_Life of Nelson_ (Southey). _Vol. ii. p. 131._
ROBERT BURNS. 1759-1796.
    Auld Nature swears the lovely dears
      Her noblest work she classes, O;
    Her 'prentice han' she tried on man,
      And then she made the lasses, O!
_Green grow the Rashes._
    Some books are lies frae end to end.
_Death and Dr. Hornbook._
    Some wee short hours ayont the twal.
_Death and Dr. Hornbook._
    The best laid schemes o' mice and men
             Gang aft a-gley;
    And leave us naught but grief and pain
             For promised joy.
_To a Mouse._
    When chill November's surly blast
      Made fields and forests bare.
_Man was made to Mourn._
    Man's inhumanity to man
    Makes countless thousands mourn.
_Man was made to Mourn._
    Gars auld claes look amaist as weel 's the new.
_The Cotter's Saturday Night._
    Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
_The Cotter's Saturday Night._
    He wales a portion with judicious care;
    And "Let us worship God," he says with solemn air.
_The Cotter's Saturday Night._
    Perhaps Dundee's wild-warbling measures rise,
    Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name.
_The Cotter's Saturday Night._
    From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs,
      That makes her loved at home, revered abroad:
    Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,
      "An honest man 's the noblest work of God."
_The Cotter's Saturday Night._
    For a' that, and a' that,
    And twice as muckle 's a' that.
_The Jolly Beggars._
    O Life! how pleasant is thy morning,
    Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning!
    Cold-pausing Caution's lesson scorning,
               We frisk away,
    Like schoolboys at th' expected warning,
               To joy and play.
_Epistle to James Smith._
    Misled by fancy's meteor ray,
               By passion driven;
    But yet the light that led astray
               Was light from heaven.
_The Vision._
    And like a passing thought, she fled
               In light away.
_The Vision._
    Affliction's sons are brothers in distress;
    A brother to relieve,--how exquisite the bliss!
_A Winter Night._
    His locked, lettered, braw brass collar
    Showed him the gentleman and scholar.
_The Twa Dogs._
    And there began a lang digression
    About the lords o' the creation.
_The Twa Dogs._
    Oh wad some power the giftie gie us
    To see oursel's as others see us!
    It wad frae monie a blunder free us,
               And foolish notion.
_To a Louse._
    Then gently scan your brother man,
      Still gentler sister woman;
    Though they may gang a kennin' wrang,
      To step aside is human.
_Address to the Unco Guid._
    What 's done we partly may compute,
      But know not what 's resisted.
_Address to the Unco Guid._
    Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives elate
      Full on thy bloom.
_To a Mountain Daisy._
    O life! thou art a galling load,
    Along a rough, a weary road,
      To wretches such as I!
_Despondency._
    Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
    Perhaps turn out a sermon.
_Epistle to a Young Friend._
    I waive the quantum o' the sin,
      The hazard of concealing;
    But, och! it hardens a' within,
      And petrifies the feeling!
_Epistle to a Young Friend._
    The fear o' hell 's a hangman's whip
      To haud the wretch in order;
    But where ye feel your honour grip,
      Let that aye be your border.
_Epistle to a Young Friend._
    An atheist's laugh 's a poor exchange
      For Deity offended!
_Epistle to a Young Friend._
    And may you better reck the rede,
      Than ever did the adviser!
_Epistle to a Young Friend._
    Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes;
    Flow gently, I 'll sing thee a song in thy praise.
_Flow gently, sweet Afton._
    Oh whistle, and I 'll come to ye, my lad.
_Whistle, and I 'll come to ye._
    If naebody care for me,
    I 'll care for naebody.
_I hae a Wife o' my Ain._
    Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
      And never brought to mind?
    Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
      And days o' lang syne?
_Auld Lang Syne._
    We twa hae run about the braes,
    And pu'd the gowans fine.
_Auld Lang Syne._
    Dweller in yon dungeon dark,
    Hangman of creation, mark!
    Who in widow weeds appears,
    Laden with unhonoured years,
    Noosing with care a bursting purse,
    Baited with many a deadly curse?
_Ode on Mrs. Oswald._
    To make a happy fireside clime
              To weans and wife,
    That 's the true pathos and sublime
              Of human life.
_Epistle to Dr. Blacklock._
    If there 's a hole in a' your coats,
                I rede ye tent it;
    A chiel 's amang ye takin' notes,
                And, faith, he 'll prent it.
_On Captain Grose's Peregrinations through Scotland._
    John Anderson my jo, John,
      When we were first acquent,
    Your locks were like the raven,
      Your bonny brow was brent.
_John Anderson._
    My heart 's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
    My heart 's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer.
_My Heart 's in the Highlands._
    She is a winsome wee thing,
    She is a handsome wee thing,
    She is a bonny wee thing,
    This sweet wee wife o' mine.
_My Wife 's a Winsome Wee Thing._
    The golden hours on angel wings
      Flew o'er me and my dearie;
    For dear to me as light and life
      Was my sweet Highland Mary.
_Highland Mary._
    But, oh! fell death's untimely frost
      That nipt my flower sae early.
_Highland Mary._
    It 's guid to be merry and wise,
    It 's guid to be honest and true,
    It 's guid to support Caledonia's cause,
    And bide by the buff and the blue.
_Here 's a Health to Them that 's Awa'._
    Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
    Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
    Welcome to your gory bed,
              Or to victory!
    Now 's the day and now 's the hour;
    See the front o' battle lour.
_Bannockburn._
    Liberty 's in every blow!
               Let us do or die.
_Bannockburn._
    In durance vile[450-4] here must I wake and weep,
    And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep.
_Epistle from Esopus to Maria._
    Oh, my luve 's like a red, red rose,
      That 's newly sprung in June;
    Oh, my luve 's like the melodie
      That 's sweetly played in tune.
_A Red, Red Rose._
    Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.
_Contented wi' Little._
    Where sits our sulky, sullen dame,
    Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
    Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.
_Tam o' Shanter._
    Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet
    To think how monie counsels sweet,
    How monie lengthened sage advices,
    The husband frae the wife despises.
_Tam o' Shanter._
    His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony;
    Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither,
    They had been fou for weeks thegither.
_Tam o' Shanter._
    The landlady and Tam grew gracious
    Wi' favours secret, sweet, and precious.
_Tam o' Shanter._
    The landlord's laugh was ready chorus.
_Tam o' Shanter._
    Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
    O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.
_Tam o' Shanter._
    But pleasures are like poppies spread,
    You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;
    Or, like the snow-fall in the river,
    A moment white, then melts forever.
_Tam o' Shanter._
    Nae man can tether time or tide.
_Tam o' Shanter._
    That hour, o' night's black arch the keystane.
_Tam o' Shanter._
    Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn,
    What dangers thou canst make us scorn!
_Tam o' Shanter._
    As Tammie glow'red, amazed and curious,
    The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.
_Tam o' Shanter._
    But to see her was to love her,
    Love but her, and love forever.
_Ae Fond Kiss._
    Had we never loved sae kindly,
    Had we never loved sae blindly,
    Never met or never parted,
    We had ne'er been broken-hearted!
_Ae Fond Kiss._
    To see her is to love her,
      And love but her forever;
    For Nature made her what she is,
      And never made anither!
_Bonny Lesley._
    Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doon,
      How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
    How can ye chant, ye little birds,
      And I sae weary fu' o' care?
_The Banks of Doon._
    Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure
    Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
_Sweet Sensibility._
    The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
      The man 's the gowd for a' that.
_For a' that and a' that._
    A prince can make a belted knight,
      A marquis, duke, and a' that;
    But an honest man 's aboon his might,
      Guid faith, he maunna fa' that.
_For a' that and a' that._
    'T is sweeter for thee despairing
    Than aught in the world beside,--Jessy!
_Jessy._
    Some hae meat and canna eat,
      And some would eat that want it;
    But we hae meat, and we can eat,
      Sae let the Lord be thankit.
_Grace before Meat._
    It was a' for our rightfu' King
      We left fair Scotland's strand.
_A' for our Rightfu' King._
    Now a' is done that men can do,
      And a' is done in vain.
_A' for our Rightfu' King._
    He turn'd him right and round about
      Upon the Irish shore,
    And gae his bridle reins a shake,
      With, "Adieu for evermore, my dear,
      And adieu for evermore."
_A' for our Rightfu' King._
WILLIAM PITT. 1759-1806.
     Necessity is the argument of tyrants; it is the creed of
     slaves.
_Speech on the India Bill, November, 1783._
    Prostrate the beauteous ruin lies; and all
    That shared its shelter perish in its fall.
_The Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin. No. xxxvi._
ANDREW CHERRY. 1762-1812.
    Loud roared the dreadful thunder,
      The rain a deluge showers.
_The Bay of Biscay._
    As she lay, on that day,
    In the bay of Biscay, O!
_The Bay of Biscay._
GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER. 1762-1836.
    On their own merits modest men are dumb.
_Epilogue to the Heir at Law._
    And what 's impossible can't be,
    And never, never comes to pass.
_The Maid of the Moor._
    Three stories high, long, dull, and old,
    As great lords' stories often are.
_The Maid of the Moor._
    Like two single gentlemen rolled into one.
_Lodgings for Single Gentlemen._
                        But when ill indeed,
    E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed.
_Lodgings for Single Gentlemen._
    When taken,
    To be well shaken.
_The Newcastle Apothecary._
     Thank you, good sir, I owe you one.
_The Poor Gentleman. Act i. Sc. 2._
                O Miss Bailey!
    Unfortunate Miss Bailey!
_Love laughs at Locksmiths. Act ii. Song._
    'T is a very fine thing to be father-in-law
    To a very magnificent three-tailed Bashaw!
_Blue Beard. Act ii. Sc. 5._
     I had a soul above buttons.
_Sylvester Daggerwood, or New Hay at the Old Market. Sc. 1._
    Mynheer Vandunck, though he never was drunk,
    Sipped brandy and water gayly.
_Mynheer Vandunck._
JAMES HURDIS. 1763-1801.
    Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed.
_The Village Curate._
SAMUEL ROGERS. 1763-1855.
    Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale,
    Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail.
_The Pleasures of Memory. Part ii. i._
    She was good as she was fair,
    None--none on earth above her!
    As pure in thought as angels are:
    To know her was to love her.
_Jacqueline. Stanza 1._
    The good are better made by ill,
    As odours crushed are sweeter still.
_Jacqueline. Stanza 3._
    A guardian angel o'er his life presiding,
    Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing.
_Human Life._
    Fireside happiness, to hours of ease
    Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.
_Human Life._
    The soul of music slumbers in the shell
    Till waked and kindled by the master's spell;
    And feeling hearts, touch them but rightly, pour
    A thousand melodies unheard before!
_Human Life._
    Then never less alone than when alone.
_Human Life._
    Those that he loved so long and sees no more,
    Loved and still loves,--not dead, but gone before,
    He gathers round him.
_Human Life._
    Mine be a cot beside the hill;
      A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear;
    A willowy brook that turns a mill,
      With many a fall, shall linger near.
_A Wish._
    That very law which moulds a tear
    And bids it trickle from its source,
    That law preserves the earth a sphere,
    And guides the planets in their course.
_On a Tear._
    Go! you may call it madness, folly;
      You shall not chase my gloom away!
    There 's such a charm in melancholy
      I would not if I could be gay.
_To ----._
    To vanish in the chinks that Time has made.
_Pæstum._
    Ward has no heart, they say, but I deny it:
    He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it.
_Epigram._
JOHN FERRIAR. 1764-1815.
    The princeps copy, clad in blue and gold.
_Illustrations of Sterne. Bibliomania. Line 6._
    Now cheaply bought for thrice their weight in gold.
_Illustrations of Sterne. Bibliomania. Line 65._
    Torn from their destined page (unworthy meed
    Of knightly counsel and heroic deed).
_Illustrations of Sterne. Bibliomania. Line 121._
    How pure the joy, when first my hands unfold
    The small, rare volume, black with tarnished gold!
_Illustrations of Sterne. Bibliomania. Line 137._
ANN RADCLIFFE. 1764-1823.
    Fate sits on these dark battlements and frowns,
    And as the portal opens to receive me,
    A voice in hollow murmurs through the courts
    Tells of a nameless deed.
ROBERT HALL. 1764-1831.
     His [Burke's] imperial fancy has laid all Nature under tribute,
     and has collected riches from every scene of the creation and
     every walk of art.
_Apology for the Freedom of the Press._
     He [Kippis] might be a very clever man by nature for aught I
     know, but he laid so many books upon his head that his brains
     could not move.
_Gregory's Life of Hall._
     Call things by their right names. . . . Glass of brandy and
     water! That is the current but not the appropriate name: ask for
     a glass of liquid fire and distilled damnation.
_Gregory's Life of Hall._
THOMAS MORTON. 1764-1838.
     What will Mrs. Grundy say?
_Speed the Plough. Act i. Sc. 1._
     Push on,--keep moving.
_A Cure for the Heartache. Act ii. Sc. 1._
     Approbation from Sir Hubert Stanley is praise indeed.
_A Cure for the Heartache. Act v. Sc. 2._
SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH. 1765-1832.
     Diffused knowledge immortalizes itself.
_Vindiciæ Gallicæ._
     The Commons, faithful to their system, remained in a wise and
     masterly inactivity.
_Vindiciæ Gallicæ._
     Disciplined inaction.
_Causes of the Revolution of 1688. Chap. vii._
     The frivolous work of polished idleness.
_Dissertation on Ethical Philosophy. Remarks on Thomas Brown._
LADY NAIRNE. 1766-1845.
    There 's nae sorrow there, John,
    There 's neither cauld nor care, John,
    The day is aye fair,
        In the land o' the leal.
_The Land o' the Leal._
    Gude nicht, and joy be wi' you a'.
_Gude Nicht, etc._
    Oh, we 're a' noddin', nid, nid, noddin';
    Oh, we 're a' noddin' at our house at hame.
_We 're a' Noddin'._
    A penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree.
_The Laird o' Cockpen._
ANDREW JACKSON. 1767-1845.
     Our Federal Union: it must be preserved.
_Toast given on the Jefferson Birthday Celebration in 1830._
     You are uneasy; you never sailed with _me_ before, I see.
_Life of Jackson_ (Parton). _Vol. iii. p. 493._
JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 1767-1848.
     Think of your forefathers! Think of your posterity!
_Speech at Plymouth, Dec. 22, 1802._
     In charity to all mankind, bearing no malice or ill-will to any
     human being, and even compassionating those who hold in bondage
     their fellow-men, not knowing what they do.
_Letter to A. Bronson. July 30, 1838._
    This hand, to tyrants ever sworn the foe,
    For Freedom only deals the deadly blow;
    Then sheathes in calm repose the vengeful blade,
    For gentle peace in Freedom's hallowed shade.
_Written in an Album, 1842._
     This is the last of earth! I am content.
_His Last Words, Feb. 21, 1848._
DAVID EVERETT. 1769-1813.
    You 'd scarce expect one of my age
    To speak in public on the stage;
    And if I chance to fall below
    Demosthenes or Cicero,
    Don't view me with a critic's eye,
    But pass my imperfections by.
    Large streams from little fountains flow,
    Tall oaks from little acorns grow.
_Lines written for a School Declamation._
SYDNEY SMITH. 1769-1845.
     It requires a surgical operation to get a joke well into a Scotch
     understanding.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 15._
     That knuckle-end of England,--that land of Calvin, oat-cakes, and
     sulphur.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 17._
     No one minds what Jeffrey says: . . . it is not more than a week
     ago that I heard him speak disrespectfully of the equator.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 17._
     We cultivate literature on a little oatmeal.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 23._
     Truth is its [justice's] handmaid, freedom is its child, peace is
     its companion, safety walks in its steps, victory follows in its
     train; it is the brightest emanation from the Gospel; it is the
     attribute of God.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 29._
     It is always right that a man should be able to render a reason
     for the faith that is within him.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 53._
     Avoid shame, but do not seek glory,--nothing so expensive as
     glory.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 88._
     Let every man be occupied, and occupied in the highest employment
     of which his nature is capable, and die with the consciousness
     that he has done his best.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 130._
     Looked as if she had walked straight out of the ark.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 157._
     The Smiths never had any arms, and have invariably sealed their
     letters with their thumbs.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 244._
     Not body enough to cover his mind decently with; his intellect is
     improperly exposed.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 258._
     He has spent all his life in letting down empty buckets into
     empty wells; and he is frittering away his age in trying to draw
     them up again.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 259._
     You find people ready enough to do the Samaritan, without the oil
     and twopence.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 261._
     Ah, you flavour everything; you are the vanilla of society.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 262._
     My living in Yorkshire was so far out of the way, that it was
     actually twelve miles from a lemon.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 262._
     As the French say, there are three sexes,--men, women, and
     clergymen.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 262._
     To take Macaulay out of literature and society and put him in the
     House of Commons, is like taking the chief physician out of
     London during a pestilence.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 265._
     Daniel Webster struck me much like a steam-engine in trousers.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 267._
     "Heat, ma'am!" I said; "it was so dreadful here, that I found
     there was nothing left for it but to take off my flesh and sit in
     my bones."
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 267._
     Macaulay is like a book in breeches. . . . He has occasional
     flashes of silence, that make his conversation perfectly
     delightful.
_Lady Holland's Memoir. Vol. i. p. 363._
    Serenely full, the epicure would say,
    Fate cannot harm me,--I have dined to-day.
_Recipe for Salad. P. 374._
     Thank God for tea! What would the world do without tea?--how did
     it exist? I am glad I was not born before tea.
_Recipe for Salad. P. 383._
     If you choose to represent the various parts in life by holes
     upon a table, of different shapes,--some circular, some
     triangular, some square, some oblong,--and the persons acting
     these parts by bits of wood of similar shapes, we shall generally
     find that the triangular person has got into the square hole, the
     oblong into the triangular, and a square person has squeezed
     himself into the round hole. The officer and the office, the doer
     and the thing done, seldom fit so exactly that we can say they
     were almost made for each other.
_Sketches of Moral Philosophy._
     The schoolboy whips his taxed top; the beardless youth manages
     his taxed horse with a taxed bridle on a taxed road; and the
     dying Englishman, pouring his medicine, which has paid seven per
     cent, into a spoon that has paid fifteen per cent, flings himself
     back upon his chintz bed which has paid twenty-two per cent, and
     expires in the arms of an apothecary who has paid a license of a
     hundred pounds for the privilege of putting him to death.
_Review of Seybert's Annals of the United States, 1820._
     In the four quarters of the globe, who reads an American book, or
     goes to an American play, or looks at an American picture or
     statue?
_Review of Seybert's Annals of the United States, 1820._
     Magnificent spectacle of human happiness.
_America. Edinburgh Review, July, 1824._
     In the midst of this sublime and terrible storm [at Sidmouth],
     Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, was seen at the door
     of her house with mop and pattens, trundling her mop, squeezing
     out the sea-water, and vigorously pushing away the Atlantic
     Ocean. The Atlantic was roused; Mrs. Partington's spirit was up.
     But I need not tell you that the contest was unequal; the
     Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs. Partington.
_Speech at Taunton, 1813._
     Men who prefer any load of infamy, however great, to any pressure
     of taxation, however light.
_On American Debts._
J. HOOKHAM FRERE. 1769-1846.
    And don't confound the language of the nation
    With long-tailed words in _osity_ and _ation_.
_The Monks and the Giants. Canto i. Line 6._
     A sudden thought strikes me,--let us swear an eternal
     friendship.
_The Rovers. Act i. Sc. 1._
DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 1769-1852.
     Nothing except a battle lost can be half so melancholy as a
     battle won.
_Despatch, 1815._
     It is very true that I have said that I considered Napoleon's
     presence in the field equal to forty thousand men in the balance.
     This is a very loose way of talking; but the idea is a very
     different one from that of his presence at a battle being equal
     to a reinforcement of forty thousand men.
_Mem. by the Duke,_[463-1] _Sept. 18, 1836._
     Circumstances over which I have no control.
     I never saw so many shocking bad hats in my life.
_Upon seeing the first Reformed Parliament._
     There is no mistake; there has been no mistake; and there shall
     be no mistake.
_Letter to Mr. Huskisson._
JOHN TOBIN. 1770-1804.
    The man that lays his hand upon a woman,
    Save in the way of kindness, is a wretch
    Whom 't were gross flattery to name a coward.
_The Honeymoon. Act ii. Sc. 1._
                           She 's adorned
    Amply that in her husband's eye looks lovely,
    The truest mirror that an honest wife
    Can see her beauty in.
_The Honeymoon. Act iii. Sc. 4._
GEORGE CANNING. 1770-1827.
    Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir.
_The Friend of Humanity and the Knife-Grinder._
    I give thee sixpence! I will see thee damned first.
_The Friend of Humanity and the Knife-Grinder._
    So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourn, glides
    The Derby dilly, carrying _three_ INSIDES.
_The Loves of the Triangles. Line 178._
    And finds, with keen, discriminating sight,
    Black 's not so black,--nor white so _very_ white.
_New Morality._
    Give me the avowed, the erect, the manly foe,
    Bold I can meet,--perhaps may turn his blow!
    But of all plagues, good Heaven, thy wrath can send,
    Save, save, oh save me from the _candid friend_!
_New Morality._
     I called the New World into existence to redress the balance of
     the Old.
_The King's Message, Dec. 12, 1826._
    No, here 's to the pilot that weathered the storm!
_The Pilot that weathered the Storm._
WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER. 1770-1834.
    Too late I stayed,--forgive the crime!
      Unheeded flew the hours;
    How noiseless falls the foot of time
      That only treads on flowers.
_Lines to Lady A. Hamilton._
JOSEPH HOPKINSON. 1770-1842.
    Hail, Columbia! happy land!
    Hail, ye heroes! heaven-born band!
      Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,
      Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,
    And when the storm of war was gone,
    Enjoyed the peace your valor won.
      Let independence be our boast,
      Ever mindful what it cost;
      Ever grateful for the prize,
      Let its altar reach the skies!
_Hail, Columbia!_
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.[465-1] 1770-1850.
                          Oh, be wiser thou!
    Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.
_Lines left upon a Seat in a Yew-tree._
    And homeless near a thousand homes I stood,
    And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.
_Guilt and Sorrow. Stanza 41._
    Action is transitory,--a step, a blow;
    The motion of a muscle, this way or that.
_The Borderers. Act iii._
    Three sleepless nights I passed in sounding on,
    Through words and things, a dim and perilous way.
_The Borderers. Act iv. Sc. 2._
                    A simple child
    That lightly draws its breath,
    And feels its life in every limb,
    What should it know of death?
_We are Seven._
    O Reader! Had you in your mind
    Such stores as silent thought can bring,
    O gentle Reader! you would find
    A tale in everything.
_Simon Lee._
    I 've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds
    With coldness still returning;
    Alas! the gratitude of men
    Hath oftener left me mourning.
_Simon Lee._
    In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
    Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
_Lines written in Early Spring._
    And 't is my faith, that every flower
    Enjoys the air it breathes.
_Lines written in Early Spring._
    Nor less I deem that there are Powers
    Which of themselves our minds impress;
    That we can feed this mind of ours
    In a wise passiveness.
_Expostulation and Reply._
    Up! up! my friend, and quit your books,
    Or surely you 'll grow double!
    Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks!
    Why all this toil and trouble?
_The Tables Turned._
    Come forth into the light of things,
    Let Nature be your teacher.
_The Tables Turned._
    One impulse from a vernal wood
    May teach you more of man,
    Of moral evil and of good,
    Than all the sages can.
_The Tables Turned._
    The bane of all that dread the Devil.
_The Idiot Boy._
                              Sensations sweet,
    Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.
_Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey._
        That best portion of a good man's life,
    His little, nameless, unremembered acts
    Of kindness and of love.
_Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey._
                    That blessed mood,
    In which the burden of the mystery,
    In which the heavy and the weary weight
    Of all this unintelligible world,
    Is lightened.
_Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey._
                                   The fretful stir
    Unprofitable, and the fever of the world
    Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.
_Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey._
                    The sounding cataract
    Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock,
    The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
    Their colours and their forms, were then to me
    An appetite,--a feeling and a love,
    That had no need of a remoter charm
    By thoughts supplied, nor any interest
    Unborrowed from the eye.
_Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey._
                  But hearing oftentimes
    The still, sad music of humanity.
_Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey._
                           A sense sublime
    Of something far more deeply interfused,
    Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
    And the round ocean and the living air
    And the blue sky, and in the mind of man,
    A motion and a spirit, that impels
    All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
    And rolls through all things.
_Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey._
    Knowing that Nature never did betray
    The heart that loved her.
_Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey._
    Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
    The dreary intercourse of daily life.
_Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey._
    Men who can hear the Decalogue, and feel
    No self-reproach.
_The Old Cumberland Beggar._
    As in the eye of Nature he has lived,
    So in the eye of Nature let him die!
_The Old Cumberland Beggar._
    There 's something in a flying horse,
    There 's something in a huge balloon.
_Peter Bell. Prologue. Stanza 1._
    The common growth of Mother Earth
    Suffices me,--her tears, her mirth,
    Her humblest mirth and tears.
_Peter Bell. Prologue. Stanza 27._
    Full twenty times was Peter feared,
    For once that Peter was respected.
_Peter Bell. Part i. Stanza 3._
    A primrose by a river's brim
    A yellow primrose was to him,
    And it was nothing more.
_Peter Bell. Part i. Stanza 12._
    The soft blue sky did never melt
    Into his heart; he never felt
    The witchery of the soft blue sky!
_Peter Bell. Part i. Stanza 15._
    On a fair prospect some have looked,
    And felt, as I have heard them say,
    As if the moving time had been
    A thing as steadfast as the scene
    On which they gazed themselves away.
_Peter Bell. Part i. Stanza 16._
    As if the man had fixed his face,
    In many a solitary place,
    Against the wind and open sky!
_Peter Bell. Part i. Stanza 26._
    One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
_Nutting._
    She dwelt among the untrodden ways
      Beside the springs of Dove,
    A maid whom there were none to praise
      And very few to love.
_She dwelt among the untrodden ways._
    A violet by a mossy stone
      Half hidden from the eye;
    Fair as a star, when only one
      Is shining in the sky.
_She dwelt among the untrodden ways._
    She lived unknown, and few could know
      When Lucy ceased to be;
    But she is in her grave, and oh
      The difference to me!
_She dwelt among the untrodden ways._
    The stars of midnight shall be dear
    To her; and she shall lean her ear
      In many a secret place
    Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
    And beauty born of murmuring sound
      Shall pass into her face.
_Three years she grew in Sun and Shower._
    May no rude hand deface it,
    And its forlorn _hic jacet!_
_Ellen Irwin._
    She gave me eyes, she gave me ears;
    And humble cares, and delicate fears;
    A heart, the fountain of sweet tears;
      And love and thought and joy.
_The Sparrow's Nest._
    The child is father of the man.
_My heart leaps up when I behold._
        The cattle are grazing,
        Their heads never raising;
    There are forty feeding like one!
_The Cock is crowing._
    Sweet childish days, that were as long
    As twenty days are now.
_To a Butterfly. I 've watched you now a full half-hour._
    Often have I sighed to measure
    By myself a lonely pleasure,
    Sighed to think I read a book,
    Only read, perhaps, by me.
_To the Small Celandine._
    As high as we have mounted in delight,
    In our dejection do we sink as low.
_Resolution and Independence. Stanza 4._
    But how can he expect that others should
    Build for him, sow for him, and at his call
    Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?
_Resolution and Independence. Stanza 6._
    I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy,
    The sleepless soul that perished in his pride;
    Of him who walked in glory and in joy,
    Following his plough, along the mountain-side.
    By our own spirits we are deified;
    We Poets in our youth begin in gladness,
    But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
_Resolution and Independence. Stanza 7._
    That heareth not the loud winds when they call,
    And moveth all together, if it moves at all.
_Resolution and Independence. Stanza 11._
    Choice word and measured phrase above the reach
    Of ordinary men.
_Resolution and Independence. Stanza 14._
    And mighty poets in their misery dead.
_Resolution and Independence. Stanza 17._
    Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
    The river glideth at his own sweet will;
    Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
    And all that mighty heart is lying still!
_Earth has not anything to show more fair._
    The holy time is quiet as a nun
    Breathless with adoration.
_It is a beauteous Evening._
    Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade
    Of that which once was great is passed away.
_On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic._
                        Thou has left behind
    Powers that will work for thee,--air, earth, and skies!
    There 's not a breathing of the common wind
    That will forget thee; thou hast great allies;
    Thy friends are exultations, agonies,
    And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
_To Toussaint L' Ouverture._
    One that would peep and botanize
    Upon his mother's grave.
_A Poet's Epitaph. Stanza 5._
    He murmurs near the running brooks
    A music sweeter than their own.
_A Poet's Epitaph. Stanza 10._
    And you must love him, ere to you
    He will seem worthy of your love.
_A Poet's Epitaph. Stanza 11._
    The harvest of a quiet eye,
    That broods and sleeps on his own heart.
_A Poet's Epitaph. Stanza 13._
    Yet sometimes, when the secret cup
    Of still and serious thought went round,
    It seemed as if he drank it up,
    He felt with spirit so profound.
_Matthew._
    My eyes are dim with childish tears,
    My heart is idly stirred,
    For the same sound is in my ears
    Which in those days I heard.
_The Fountain._
    A happy youth, and their old age
    Is beautiful and free.
_The Fountain._
    And often, glad no more,
    We wear a face of joy because
    We have been glad of yore.
_The Fountain._
    The sweetest thing that ever grew
    Beside a human door.
_Lucy Gray. Stanza 2._
         A youth to whom was given
    So much of earth, so much of heaven.
_Ruth._
    Until a man might travel twelve stout miles,
    Or reap an acre of his neighbor's corn.
_The Brothers._
    Something between a hindrance and a help.
_Michael._
    Drink, pretty creature, drink!
_The Pet Lamb._
                        Lady of the Mere,
    Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.
_A narrow Girdle of rough Stones and Crags._
    And he is oft the wisest man
      Who is not wise at all.
_The Oak and the Broom._
    "A jolly place," said he, "in times of old!
    But something ails it now: the spot is cursed."
_Hart-leap Well. Part ii._
    Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.
_Hart-leap Well. Part ii._
    Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
    With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
_Hart-leap Well. Part ii._
    Plain living and high thinking are no more.
    The homely beauty of the good old cause
    Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,
    And pure religion breathing household laws.
_O Friend! I know not which way I must look._
    Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour:
    England hath need of thee!
          .      .      .      .      .      .
    Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart:
    So didst thou travel on life's common way
    In cheerful godliness.
_London, 1802._
    We must be free or die who speak the tongue
    That Shakespeare spake, the faith and morals hold
    Which Milton held.
_It is not to be thought of._
    A noticeable man, with large gray eyes.
_Stanzas written in Thomson's Castle of Indolence._
    We meet thee, like a pleasant thought,
    When such are wanted.
_To the Daisy._
    The poet's darling.
_To the Daisy._
    Thou unassuming commonplace
    Of Nature.
_To the same Flower._
    Oft on the dappled turf at ease
    I sit, and play with similes,
    Loose type of things through all degrees.
_To the same Flower._
    Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven
    This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven;
    The rueful conflict, the heart riven
      With vain endeavour,
    And memory of Earth's bitter leaven
      Effaced forever.
_Thoughts suggested on the Banks of the Nith._
    The best of what we do and are,
      Just God, forgive!
_Thoughts suggested on the Banks of the Nith._
    For old, unhappy, far-off things,
    And battles long ago.
_The Solitary Reaper._
    Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain
    That has been, and may be again.
_The Solitary Reaper._
    The music in my heart I bore
    Long after it was heard no more.
_The Solitary Reaper._
    Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice;
    Its dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,
    Frozen by distance.
_Address to Kilchurn Castle._
    A famous man is Robin Hood,
    The English ballad-singer's joy.
_Rob Roy's Grave._
           Because the good old rule
    Sufficeth them,--the simple plan,
    That they should take who have the power,
           And they should keep who can.
_Rob Roy's Grave._
    The Eagle, he was lord above,
      And Rob was lord below.
_Rob Roy's Grave._
    A brotherhood of venerable trees.
_Sonnet composed at ---- Castle._
    Let beeves and home-bred kine partake
    The sweets of Burn-mill meadow;
    The swan on still St. Mary's Lake
    Float double, swan and shadow!
_Yarrow Unvisited._
               Every gift of noble origin
    Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
_These Times strike Monied Worldlings._
    A remnant of uneasy light.
_The Matron of Jedborough._
    Oh for a single hour of that Dundee
    Who on that day the word of onset gave!
_Sonnet, in the Pass of Killicranky._
    O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,
    Or but a wandering voice?
_To the Cuckoo._
    She was a phantom of delight
    When first she gleamed upon my sight,
    A lovely apparition, sent
    To be a moment's ornament;
    Her eyes as stars of twilight fair,
    Like twilights too her dusky hair,
    But all things else about her drawn
    From May-time and the cheerful dawn.
_She was a Phantom of Delight._
    A creature not too bright or good
    For human nature's daily food;
    For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
    Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
_She was a Phantom of Delight._
    The reason firm, the temperate will,
    Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
    A perfect woman, nobly planned,
    To warn, to comfort, and command.
_She was a Phantom of Delight._
                      That inward eye
    Which is the bliss of solitude.
_I wandered lonely._
    To be a Prodigal's favourite,--then, worse truth,
    A Miser's pensioner,--behold our lot!
_The Small Celandine._
    Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!
_Ode to Duty._
               A light to guide, a rod
    To check the erring, and reprove.
_Ode to Duty._
    Give unto me, made lowly wise,
    The spirit of self-sacrifice;
    The confidence of reason give,
    And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!
_Ode to Duty._
    The light that never was, on sea or land;
    The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
_Suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm. Stanza 4._
    Shalt show us how divine a thing
    A woman may be made.
_To a Young Lady. Dear Child of Nature._
    But an old age serene and bright,
    And lovely as a Lapland night,
      Shall lead thee to thy grave.
_To a Young Lady. Dear Child of Nature._
                     Where the statue stood
    Of Newton, with his prism and silent face,
    The marble index of a mind forever
    Voyaging through strange seas of thought alone.
_The Prelude. Book iii._
                     Another morn
    Risen on mid-noon.
_The Prelude. Book vi._
    Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
    But to be young was very heaven!
_The Prelude. Book xi._
    The budding rose above the rose full blown.
_The Prelude. Book xi._
                             There is
    One great society alone on earth:
    The noble living and the noble dead.
_The Prelude. Book xi._
    Who, doomed to go in company with Pain
    And Fear and Bloodshed,--miserable train!
    Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
_Character of the Happy Warrior._
    Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves
    Of their bad influence, and their good receives.
_Character of the Happy Warrior._
    But who, if he be called upon to face
    Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined
    Great issues, good or bad for humankind,
    Is happy as a lover.
_Character of the Happy Warrior._
    And through the heat of conflict keeps the law
    In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw.
_Character of the Happy Warrior._
    Whom neither shape of danger can dismay,
    Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
_Character of the Happy Warrior._
    Like,--but oh how different!
_Yes, it was the Mountain Echo._
    The world is too much with us; late and soon,
    Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
    Little we see in Nature that is ours.
_Miscellaneous Sonnets. Part i. xxxiii._
              Great God! I 'd rather be
    A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn,
    So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
    Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
    Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea,
    Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
_Miscellaneous Sonnets. Part i. xxxiii._
    Maidens withering on the stalk.
_Personal Talk. Stanza 1._
                           Sweetest melodies
    Are those that are by distance made more sweet.
_Personal Talk. Stanza 2._
    Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,
    Are a substantial world, both pure and good.
    Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,
    Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
_Personal Talk. Stanza 3._
    The gentle Lady married to the Moor,
    And heavenly Una with her milk-white lamb.
_Personal Talk. Stanza 3._
    Blessings be with them, and eternal praise,
    Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares!
    The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs
    Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays.
_Personal Talk. Stanza 4._
    A power is passing from the earth.
_Lines on the expected Dissolution of Mr. Fox._
    The rainbow comes and goes,
    And lovely is the rose.
_Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 2._
        The sunshine is a glorious birth;
        But yet I know, where'er I go,
    That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
_Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 2._
    Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
_Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 5._
    Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
    The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
        Hath had elsewhere its setting,
          And cometh from afar.
        Not in entire forgetfulness,
        And not in utter nakedness,
    But trailing clouds of glory, do we come
        From God, who is our home:
    Heaven lies about us in our infancy.
_Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 5._
    At length the man perceives it die away,
    And fade into the light of common day.
_Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 5._
    The thought of our past years in me doth breed
    Perpetual benediction.
_Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 9._
              Those obstinate questionings
        Of sense and outward things,
        Fallings from us, vanishings,
        Blank misgivings of a creature
    Moving about in worlds not realized,
    High instincts before which our mortal nature
    Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised.
_Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 9._
                Truths that wake,
    To perish never.
_Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 9._
        Though inland far we be,
    Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
        Which brought us hither.
_Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 9._
    Though nothing can bring back the hour
    Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
_Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 10._
    In years that bring the philosophic mind.
_Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 10._
    The clouds that gather round the setting sun
    Do take a sober colouring from an eye
    That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.
_Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 11._
    To me the meanest flower that blows can give
    Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
_Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 11._
    Two voices are there: one is of the sea,
    One of the mountains,--each a mighty voice.
_Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation of Switzerland._
    Earth helped him with the cry of blood.
_Song at the Feast of Broughton Castle._
    The silence that is in the starry sky.
_Song at the Feast of Broughton Castle._
    The monumental pomp of age
    Was with this goodly personage;
    A stature undepressed in size,
    Unbent, which rather seemed to rise
    In open victory o'er the weight
    Of seventy years, to loftier height.
_The White Doe of Rylstone. Canto iii._
    "What is good for a bootless bene?"
    With these dark words begins my tale;
    And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring
    When prayer is of no avail?
_Force of Prayer._
    A few strong instincts, and a few plain rules.
_Alas! what boots the long laborious Quest?_
    Of blessed consolations in distress.
_Preface to the Excursion._ (Edition, 1814.)
    The vision and the faculty divine;
    Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
_The Excursion. Book i._
    The imperfect offices of prayer and praise.
_The Excursion. Book i._
                 That mighty orb of song,
    The divine Milton.
_The Excursion. Book i._
                         The good die first,
    And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust
    Burn to the socket.
_The Excursion. Book i._
    This dull product of a scoffer's pen.
_The Excursion. Book ii._
    With battlements that on their restless fronts
    Bore stars.
_The Excursion. Book ii._
    Wisdom is ofttimes nearer when we stoop
    Than when we soar.
_The Excursion. Book iii._
    Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.
_The Excursion. Book iii._
           Monastic brotherhood, upon rock
    Aerial.
_The Excursion. Book iii._
    The intellectual power, through words and things,
    Went sounding on a dim and perilous way!
_The Excursion. Book iii._
    Society became my glittering bride,
    And airy hopes my children.
_The Excursion. Book iii._
    And the most difficult of tasks to keep
    Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
_The Excursion. Book iv._
    There is a luxury in self-dispraise;
    And inward self-disparagement affords
    To meditative spleen a grateful feast.
_The Excursion. Book iv._
        Recognizes ever and anon
    The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
_The Excursion. Book iv._
                       Pan himself,
    The simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god!
_The Excursion. Book iv._
                       I have seen
    A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract
    Of inland ground, applying to his ear
    The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell,
    To which, in silence hushed, his very soul
    Listened intensely; and his countenance soon
    Brightened with joy, for from within were heard
    Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed
    Mysterious union with his native sea.
_The Excursion. Book iv._
    So build we up the being that we are.
_The Excursion. Book iv._
        One in whom persuasion and belief
    Had ripened into faith, and faith become
    A passionate intuition.
_The Excursion. Book iv._
    Spires whose "silent finger points to heaven."
_The Excursion. Book vi._
    Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man,
    Could field or grove, could any spot of earth,
    Show to his eye an image of the pangs
    Which it hath witnessed,--render back an echo
    Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!
_The Excursion. Book vi._
                   And when the stream
    Which overflowed the soul was passed away,
    A consciousness remained that it had left
    Deposited upon the silent shore
    Of memory images and precious thoughts
    That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.
_The Excursion. Book vii._
    Wisdom married to immortal verse.
_The Excursion. Book vii._
    A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays
    And confident to-morrows.
_The Excursion. Book vii._
    The primal duties shine aloft, like stars;
    The charities that soothe and heal and bless
    Are scattered at the feet of man like flowers.
_The Excursion. Book ix._
                By happy chance we saw
    A twofold image: on a grassy bank
    A snow-white ram, and in the crystal flood
    Another and the same!
_The Excursion. Book ix._
                           The gods approve
    The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.
_Laodamia._
                                    Mightier far
    Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway
    Of magic potent over sun and star,
    Is Love, though oft to agony distrest,
    And though his favorite seat be feeble woman's breast.
_Laodamia._
    Elysian beauty, melancholy grace,
    Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
_Laodamia._
    He spake of love, such love as spirits feel
    In worlds whose course is equable and pure;
    No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,
    The past unsighed for, and the future sure.
_Laodamia._
    Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there
    In happier beauty; more pellucid streams,
    An ampler ether, a diviner air,
    And fields invested with purpureal gleams.
_Laodamia._
    Yet tears to human suffering are due;
    And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown
    Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.
_Laodamia._
    But shapes that come not at an earthly call
    Will not depart when mortal voices bid.
_Dion._
    But thou that didst appear so fair
      To fond imagination,
    Dost rival in the light of day
      Her delicate creation.
_Yarrow Visited._
    'T is hers to pluck the amaranthine flower
    Of faith, and round the sufferer's temples bind
    Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower,
    And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind.
_Weak is the Will of Man._
    We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud
    And magnify thy name Almighty God!
    But man is thy most awful instrument
    In working out a pure intent.
_Ode. Imagination before Content._
    Sad fancies do we then affect,
    In luxury of disrespect
    To our own prodigal excess
    Of too familiar happiness.
_Ode to Lycoris._
    That kill the bloom before its time,
    And blanch, without the owner's crime,
    The most resplendent hair.
_Lament of Mary Queen of Scots._
    The sightless Milton, with his hair
    Around his placid temples curled;
    And Shakespeare at his side,--a freight,
    If clay could think and mind were weight,
    For him who bore the world!
_The Italian Itinerant._
    Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows
    That for oblivion take their daily birth
    From all the fuming vanities of earth.
_Sky-Prospect from the Plain of France._
    Turning, for them who pass, the common dust
    Of servile opportunity to gold.
_Desultory Stanza._
                            Babylon,
    Learned and wise, hath perished utterly,
    Nor leaves her speech one word to aid the sigh
    That would lament her.
_Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part i. xxv. Missions and Travels._
    As thou these ashes, little brook, wilt bear
    Into the Avon, Avon to the tide
    Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas,
    Into main ocean they, this deed accursed
    An emblem yields to friends and enemies
    How the bold teacher's doctrine, sanctified
    By truth, shall spread, throughout the world dispersed.
_Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part ii. xvii. To Wickliffe._
                        The feather, whence the pen
    Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men,
    Dropped from an angel's wing.
_Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part iii. v. Walton's Book of Lives._
    Meek Walton's heavenly memory.
_Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part iii. v. Walton's Book of Lives._
    But who would force the soul tilts with a straw
    Against a champion cased in adamant.
_Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part iii. vii. Persecution of the Scottish
Covenanters._
                       Where music dwells
    Lingering and wandering on as loth to die,
    Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof
    That they were born for immortality.
_Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part iii. xliii. Inside of King's Chapel,
Cambridge._
    Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast
    False fires, that others may be lost.
_To the Lady Fleming._
    But hushed be every thought that springs
    From out the bitterness of things.
_Elegiac Stanzas. Addressed to Sir G. H. B._
                          To the solid ground
    Of Nature trusts the mind that builds for aye.
_A Volant Tribe of Bards on Earth._
    Soft is the music that would charm forever;
    The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly.
_Not Love, not War._
    True beauty dwells in deep retreats,
      Whose veil is unremoved
    Till heart with heart in concord beats,
      And the lover is beloved.
_To ----. Let other Bards of Angels sing._
    Type of the wise who soar but never roam,
    True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
_To a Skylark._
    A Briton even in love should be
    A subject, not a slave!
_Ere with Cold Beads of Midnight Dew._
    Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned,
    Mindless of its just honours; with this key
    Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
_Scorn not the Sonnet._
                    And when a damp
    Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand
    The thing became a trumpet; whence he blew
    Soul-animating strains,--alas! too few.
_Scorn not the Sonnet._
    But he is risen, a later star of dawn.
_A Morning Exercise._
    Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.
_A Morning Exercise._
              When his veering gait
    And every motion of his starry train
    Seem governed by a strain
    Of music, audible to him alone.
_The Triad._
    Alas! how little can a moment show
    Of an eye where feeling plays
    In ten thousand dewy rays:
    A face o'er which a thousand shadows go!
_The Triad._
    Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
_On the Power of Sound. xii._
    The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift,
    That no philosophy can lift.
_Presentiments._
    Nature's old felicities.
_The Trosachs._
    Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower
    Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour
    Have passed away; less happy than the one
    That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove
    The tender charm of poetry and love.
_Poems composed during a Tour in the Summer of 1833. xxxvii._
    Small service is true service while it lasts.
    Of humblest friends, bright creature! scorn not one:
    The daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
    Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.
_To a Child. Written in her Album._
    Since every mortal power of Coleridge
    Was frozen at its marvellous source,
    The rapt one, of the godlike forehead,
    The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth:
    And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle,
    Has vanished from his lonely hearth.
_Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg._
    How fast has brother followed brother,
    From sunshine to the sunless land!
_Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg._
    Those old credulities, to Nature dear,
    Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock
    Of history?
_Memorials of a Tour in Italy. iv._
    How does the meadow-flower its bloom unfold?
    Because the lovely little flower is free
    Down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
_A Poet! He hath put his Heart to School._
    Minds that have nothing to confer
      Find little to perceive.
_Yes, Thou art Fair._
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 1771-1832.
    Such is the custom of Branksome Hall.
_Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto i. Stanza 7._
    If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright,
    Go visit it by the pale moonlight.
_Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto ii. Stanza 1._
    O fading honours of the dead!
    O high ambition, lowly laid!
_Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto ii. Stanza 10._
    I was not always a man of woe.
_Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto ii. Stanza 12._
    I cannot tell how the truth may be;
    I say the tale as 't was said to me.
_Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto ii. Stanza 22._
    In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed;
    In war, he mounts the warrior's steed;
    In halls, in gay attire is seen;
    In hamlets, dances on the green.
    Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,
    And men below and saints above;
    For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
_Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto iii. Stanza 1._
    Her blue eyes sought the west afar,
    For lovers love the western star.
_Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto iii. Stanza 24._
    Along thy wild and willow'd shore.
_Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto iv. Stanza 1._
                            Ne'er
    Was flattery lost on poet's ear;
    A simple race! they waste their toil
    For the vain tribute of a smile.
_Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto iv. Stanza 35._
    Call it not vain: they do not err
    Who say that when the poet dies
    Mute Nature mourns her worshipper,
    And celebrates his obsequies.
_Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto v. Stanza 1._
    True love 's the gift which God has given
    To man alone beneath the heaven:
      It is not fantasy's hot fire,
        Whose wishes soon as granted fly;
      It liveth not in fierce desire,
        With dead desire it doth not die;
    It is the secret sympathy,
    The silver link, the silken tie,
    Which heart to heart and mind to mind
    In body and in soul can bind.
_Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto v. Stanza 13._
    Breathes there the man with soul so dead
    Who never to himself hath said,
      This is my own, my native land!
    Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd
    As home his footsteps he hath turn'd
      From wandering on a foreign strand?
    If such there breathe, go, mark him well!
    For him no minstrel raptures swell;
    High though his titles, proud his name,
    Boundless his wealth as wish can claim,
    Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
    The wretch, concentred all in self,
    Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
    And, doubly dying, shall go down
    To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
    Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.
_Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto vi. Stanza 1._
    O Caledonia! stern and wild,
    Meet nurse for a poetic child!
    Land of brown heath and shaggy wood;
    Land of the mountain and the flood!
_Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto vi. Stanza 2._
    Profan'd the God-given strength, and marr'd the lofty line.
_Marmion. Introduction to Canto i._
    Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth,
    When thought is speech, and speech is truth.
_Marmion. Introduction to Canto ii._
    When, musing on companions gone,
    We doubly feel ourselves alone.
_Marmion. Introduction to Canto ii._
    'T is an old tale and often told;
      But did my fate and wish agree,
    Ne'er had been read, in story old,
    Of maiden true betray'd for gold,
      That loved, or was avenged, like me.
_Marmion. Canto ii. Stanza 27._
    When Prussia hurried to the field,
    And snatch'd the spear, but left the shield.
_Marmion. Introduction to Canto iii._
    In the lost battle,
      Borne down by the flying,
    Where mingles war's rattle
      With groans of the dying.
_Marmion. Canto iii. Stanza 11._
    Where 's the coward that would not dare
      To fight for such a land?
_Marmion. Canto iv. Stanza 30._
    Lightly from fair to fair he flew,
    And loved to plead, lament, and sue;
    Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain,
    For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.
_Marmion. Canto v. Stanza 9._
    With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.
_Marmion. Canto v. Stanza 12._
    But woe awaits a country when
    She sees the tears of bearded men.
_Marmion. Canto v. Stanza 16._
               And dar'st thou then
    To beard the lion in his den,
      The Douglas in his hall?
_Marmion. Canto vi. Stanza 14._
    Oh what a tangled web we weave,
    When first we practise to deceive!
_Marmion. Canto vi. Stanza 17._
    O woman! in our hours of ease
    Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,
    And variable as the shade
    By the light quivering aspen made;
    When pain and anguish wring the brow,
    A ministering angel thou!
_Marmion. Canto vi. Stanza 30._
    "Charge, Chester, charge! on, Stanley, on!"
    Were the last words of Marmion.
_Marmion. Canto vi. Stanza 32._
    Oh for a blast of that dread horn
    On Fontarabian echoes borne!
_Marmion. Canto vi. Stanza 33._
    To all, to each, a fair good-night,
    And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
_L' Envoy. To the Reader._
    In listening mood she seemed to stand,
    The guardian Naiad of the strand.
_Lady of the Lake. Canto i. Stanza 17._
    And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace
    A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace
    Of finer form or lovelier face.
_Lady of the Lake. Canto i. Stanza 18._
    A foot more light, a step more true,
    Ne'er from the heath-flower dash'd the dew.
_Lady of the Lake. Canto i. Stanza 18._
    On his bold visage middle age
    Had slightly press'd its signet sage,
    Yet had not quench'd the open truth
    And fiery vehemence of youth:
    Forward and frolic glee was there,
    The will to do, the soul to dare.
_Lady of the Lake. Canto i. Stanza 21._
    Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
    Morn of toil nor night of waking.
_Lady of the Lake. Canto i. Stanza 31._
    Hail to the chief who in triumph advances!
_Lady of the Lake. Canto ii. Stanza 19._
    Some feelings are to mortals given
    With less of earth in them than heaven.
_Lady of the Lake. Canto ii. Stanza 22._
    Time rolls his ceaseless course.
_Lady of the Lake. Canto iii. Stanza 1._
    Like the dew on the mountain,
      Like the foam on the river,
    Like the bubble on the fountain,
      Thou art gone, and forever!
_Lady of the Lake. Canto iii. Stanza 16._
    The rose is fairest when 't is budding new,
      And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.
    The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew,
      And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.
_Lady of the Lake. Canto iv. Stanza 1._
    Art thou a friend to Roderick?
_Lady of the Lake. Canto iv. Stanza 30._
    Come one, come all! this rock shall fly
    From its firm base as soon as I.
_Lady of the Lake. Canto v. Stanza 10._
    And the stern joy which warriors feel
    In foemen worthy of their steel.
_Lady of the Lake. Canto v. Stanza 10._
    Who o'er the herd would wish to reign,
    Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain!
    Vain as the leaf upon the stream,
    And fickle as a changeful dream;
    Fantastic as a woman's mood,
    And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood.
    Thou many-headed monster[492-1] thing,
    Oh who would wish to be thy king!
_Lady of the Lake. Canto v. Stanza 30._
      Where, where was Roderick then?
    One blast upon his bugle horn
      Were worth a thousand men.
_Lady of the Lake. Canto vi. Stanza 18._
    In man's most dark extremity
    Oft succour dawns from Heaven.
_Lord of the Isles. Canto i. Stanza 20._
    Spangling the wave with lights as vain
    As pleasures in the vale of pain,
      That dazzle as they fade.
_Lord of the Isles. Canto i. Stanza 23._
    Oh, many a shaft at random sent
    Finds mark the archer little meant!
    And many a word at random spoken
    May soothe, or wound, a heart that 's broken!
_Lord of the Isles. Canto v. Stanza 18._
    Where lives the man that has not tried
    How mirth can into folly glide,
      And folly into sin!
_Bridal of Triermain. Canto i. Stanza 21._
    Still are the thoughts to memory dear.
_Rokeby. Canto i. Stanza 32._
    A mother's pride, a father's joy.
_Rokeby. Canto iii. Stanza 15._
    Oh, Brignall banks are wild and fair,
      And Greta woods are green,
    And you may gather garlands there
      Would grace a summer's queen.
_Rokeby. Canto iii. Stanza 16._
    Thus aged men, full loth and slow,
    The vanities of life forego,
    And count their youthful follies o'er,
    Till Memory lends her light no more.
_Rokeby. Canto v. Stanza 1._
    No pale gradations quench his ray,
    No twilight dews his wrath allay.
_Rokeby. Canto vi. Stanza 21._
    Come as the winds come, when
      Forests are rended;
    Come as the waves come, when
      Navies are stranded.
_Pibroch of Donald Dhu._
     A lawyer without history or literature is a mechanic, a mere
     working mason; if he possesses some knowledge of these, he may
     venture to call himself an architect.
_Guy Mannering. Chap. xxxvii._
     Bluid is thicker than water.
_Guy Mannering. Chap. xxxviii._
     It 's no fish ye 're buying, it 's men's lives.
_The Antiquary. Chap. xi._
    When Israel, of the Lord belov'd,
      Out of the land of bondage came,
    Her fathers' God before her mov'd,
      An awful guide in smoke and flame.
_Ivanhoe. Chap. xxxix._
     Sea of upturned faces.
_Rob Roy. Chap. xx._
     There 's a gude time coming.
_Rob Roy. Chap. xxxii._
     My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.
_Rob Roy. Chap. xxxiv._
     Scared out of his seven senses.
_Rob Roy. Chap. xxxiv._
    Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
      To all the sensual world proclaim,
    One crowded hour of glorious life
      Is worth an age without a name.
_Old Mortality. Chap. xxxiv._
     The happy combination of fortuitous circumstances.
_Answer to the Author of Waverley to the Letter of Captain Clutterbuck.
The Monastery._
    Within that awful volume lies
    The mystery of mysteries!
_The Monastery. Chap. xii._
    And better had they ne'er been born,
    Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.
_The Monastery. Chap. xii._
    Ah, County Guy, the hour is nigh,
      The sun has left the lea.
    The orange flower perfumes the bower,
      The breeze is on the sea.
_Quentin Durward. Chap. iv._
    Widowed wife and wedded maid.
_The Betrothed. Chap. xv._
    Woman's faith and woman's trust,
    Write the characters in dust.
_The Betrothed. Chap. xx._
     I am she, O most bucolical juvenal, under whose charge are placed
     the milky mothers of the herd.
_The Betrothed. Chap. xxviii._
     But with the morning cool reflection came.
_Chronicles of the Canongate. Chap. iv._
     What can they see in the longest kingly line in Europe, save that
     it runs back to a successful soldier?
_Woodstock. Chap. xxxvii._
     The playbill, which is said to have announced the tragedy of
     Hamlet, the character of the Prince of Denmark being left out.
_The Talisman. Introduction._
     Rouse the lion from his lair.
_The Talisman. Chap. vi._
     Jock, when ye hae naething else to do, ye may be aye sticking in
     a tree; it will be growing, Jock, when ye 're sleeping.
_The Heart of Midlothian. Chap. viii._
     Fat, fair, and forty.
_St. Ronan's Well. Chap. vii._
     "Lambe them, lads! lambe them!" a cant phrase of the time derived
     from the fate of Dr. Lambe, an astrologer and quack, who was
     knocked on the head by the rabble in Charles the First's time.
_Peveril of the Peak. Chap. xlii._
     Although too much of a soldier among sovereigns, no one could
     claim with better right to be a sovereign among soldiers.
_Life of Napoleon._
     The sun never sets on the immense empire of Charles V.
_Life of Napoleon._ (February, 1807.)
JAMES MONTGOMERY. 1771-1854.
    When the good man yields his breath
    (For the good man never dies).
_The Wanderer of Switzerland. Part v._
    Gashed with honourable scars,
      Low in Glory's lap they lie;
    Though they fell, they fell like stars,
      Streaming splendour through the sky.
_The Battle of Alexandria._
    Distinct as the billows, yet one as the sea.
_The Ocean. Line 54._
    Once, in the flight of ages past,
    There lived a man.
_The Common Lot._
    Counts his sure gains, and hurries back for more.
_The West Indies. Part iii._
    Hope against hope, and ask till ye receive.
_The World before the Flood. Canto v._
        Joys too exquisite to last,
    And yet _more_ exquisite when past.
_The Little Cloud._
    Bliss in possession will not last;
    Remembered joys are never past;
    At once the fountain, stream, and sea,
    They were, they are, they yet shall be.
_The Little Cloud._
    Friend after friend departs;
      Who hath not lost a friend?
    There is no union here of hearts
      That finds not here an end.
_Friends._
    Nor sink those stars in empty night:
    They hide themselves in heaven's own light.
_Friends._
    'T is not the whole of life to live,
      Nor all of death to die.
_The Issues of Life and Death._
    Beyond this vale of tears
      There is a life above,
    Unmeasured by the flight of years;
      And all that life is love.
_The Issues of Life and Death._
    Night is the time to weep,
      To wet with unseen tears
    Those graves of memory where sleep
      The joys of other years.
_The Issues of Life and Death._
    Who that hath ever been
      Could bear to be no more?
    Yet who would tread again the scene
      He trod through life before?
_The Falling Leaf._
    Here in the body pent,
      Absent from Him I roam,
    Yet nightly pitch my moving tent
      A day's march nearer home.
_At Home in Heaven._
    If God hath made this world so fair,
      Where sin and death abound,
    How beautiful beyond compare
      Will paradise be found!
_The Earth full of God's Goodness._
    Return unto thy rest, my soul,
      From all the wanderings of thy thought,
    From sickness unto death made whole,
      Safe through a thousand perils brought.
_Rest for the Soul._
    Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,
      Uttered or unexpressed,
    The motion of a hidden fire
      That trembles in the breast.
_What is Prayer?_
    Prayer is the burden of a sigh,
      The falling of a tear,
    The upward glancing of an eye
      When none but God is near.
_What is Prayer?_
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 1772-1834.
    He holds him with his glittering eye,
    And listens like a three years' child.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part i._
    Red as a rose is she.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part i._
    We were the first that ever burst
    Into that silent sea.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part ii._
    As idle as a painted ship
    Upon a painted ocean.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part ii._
    Water, water, everywhere,
    Nor any drop to drink.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part ii._
    Without a breeze, without a tide,
    She steadies with upright keel.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part iii._
    The nightmare Life-in-Death was she.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part iii._
    The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
    At one stride comes the dark;
    With far-heard whisper o'er the sea,
    Off shot the spectre-bark.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part iii._
    And thou art long and lank and brown,
    As is the ribbed sea-sand.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part iv._
    Alone, alone,--all, all alone;
    Alone on a wide, wide sea.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part iv._
    The moving moon went up the sky,
    And nowhere did abide;
    Softly she was going up,
    And a star or two beside.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part iv._
    A spring of love gush'd from my heart,
    And I bless'd them unaware.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part iv._
    Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,
    Beloved from pole to pole.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part v._
    A noise like of a hidden brook
    In the leafy month of June,
    That to the sleeping woods all night
    Singeth a quiet tune.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part v._
    Like one that on a lonesome road
    Doth walk in fear and dread,
    And having once turned round walks on,
    And turns no more his head,
    Because he knows a frightful fiend
    Doth close behind him tread.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part vi._
    So lonely 't was, that God himself
    Scarce seemed there to be.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part vii._
    He prayeth well who loveth well
    Both man and bird and beast.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part vii._
    He prayeth best who loveth best
    All things both great and small.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part vii._
    A sadder and a wiser man,
    He rose the morrow morn.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part vii._
    And the spring comes slowly up this way.
_Christabel. Part i._
    A lady richly clad as she,
    Beautiful exceedingly.
_Christabel. Part i._
    Carv'd with figures strange and sweet,
    All made out of the carver's brain.
_Christabel. Part i._
    Her gentle limbs did she undress,
    And lay down in her loveliness.
_Christabel. Part i._
    A sight to dream of, not to tell!
_Christabel. Part i._
    That saints will aid if men will call;
    For the blue sky bends over all!
_Christabel. Conclusion to part i._
    Each matin bell, the Baron saith,
    Knells us back to a world of death.
_Christabel. Part ii._
    Her face, oh call it fair, not pale!
_Christabel. Part ii._
    Alas! they had been friends in youth;
    But whispering tongues can poison truth,
    And constancy lives in realms above;
    And life is thorny, and youth is vain,
    And to be wroth with one we love
    Doth work like madness in the brain.
_Christabel. Part ii._
    They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
    Like cliffs which had been rent asunder:
    A dreary sea now flows between.
_Christabel. Part ii._
    Perhaps 't is pretty to force together
    Thoughts so all unlike each other;
    To mutter and mock a broken charm,
    To dally with wrong that does no harm.
_Christabel. Conclusion to Part ii._
    In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
    A stately pleasure-dome decree,
    Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
    Through caverns measureless to man
      Down to a sunless sea.
_Kubla Khan._
    Ancestral voices prophesying war.
_Kubla Khan._
    A damsel with a dulcimer
    In a vision once I saw:
    It was an Abyssinian maid,
    And on her dulcimer she played,
    Singing of Mount Abora.
_Kubla Khan._
    For he on honey-dew hath fed,
    And drunk the milk of Paradise.
_Kubla Khan._
    Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade,
      Death came with friendly care;
    The opening bud to heaven conveyed,
      And bade it blossom there.
_Epitaph on an Infant._
    Yes, while I stood and gazed, my temples bare,
    And shot my being through earth, sea, and air,
    Possessing all things with intensest love,
    O Liberty! my spirit felt thee there.
_France. An Ode. v._
    Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place
    (Portentous sight!) the owlet Atheism,
    Sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon,
    Drops his blue-fring'd lids, and holds them close,
    And hooting at the glorious sun in heaven
    Cries out, "Where is it?"
_Fears in Solitude._
    And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin
      Is pride that apes humility.
_The Devil's Thoughts._
    All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
    Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
      All are but ministers of Love,
        And feed his sacred flame.
_Love._
    Blest hour! it was a luxury--to be!
_Reflections on having left a Place of Retirement._
                                    A charm
    For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom
    No sound is dissonant which tells of life.
_This Lime-tree Bower my Prison._
    Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star
    In his steep course?
_Hymn in the Vale of Chamouni._
    Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines.
_Hymn in the Vale of Chamouni._
    Motionless torrents! silent cataracts!
_Hymn in the Vale of Chamouni._
    Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost.
_Hymn in the Vale of Chamouni._
    Earth with her thousand voices praises God.
_Hymn in the Vale of Chamouni._
    Tranquillity! thou better name
    Than all the family of Fame.
_Ode to Tranquillity._
    The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence.
_Dejection. An Ode. Stanza 1._
    Joy is the sweet voice, joy the luminous cloud.
      We in ourselves rejoice!
    And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight,
      All melodies the echoes of that voice,
    All colours a suffusion from that light.
_Dejection. An Ode. Stanza 5._
    A mother is a mother still,
      The holiest thing alive.
_The Three Graves._
    Never, believe me,
    Appear the Immortals,
    Never alone.
_The Visit of the Gods._ (Imitated from Schiller.)
    Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn.
_A Christmas Carol. viii._
    The knight's bones are dust,
    And his good sword rust;
    His soul is with the saints, I trust.
_The Knight's Tomb._
    It sounds like stories from the land of spirits
    If any man obtains that which he merits,
    Or any merit that which he obtains.
        .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .
    Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends!
    Hath he not always treasures, always friends,
    The good great man? Three treasures,--love and light,
    And calm thoughts, regular as infants' breath;
    And three firm friends, more sure than day and night,
    Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.
_Complaint. Ed. 1852. The Good Great Man. Ed. 1893._
    My eyes make pictures when they are shut.
_A Day-Dream._
    To know, to esteem, to love, and then to part,
    Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart!
_On taking Leave of ----, 1817._
    In many ways doth the full heart reveal
    The presence of the love it would conceal.
_Motto to Poems written in Later Life._
    Nought cared this body for wind or weather
    When youth and I lived in 't together.
_Youth and Age._
    Flowers are lovely; love is flower-like;
    Friendship is a sheltering tree;
    Oh the joys that came down shower-like,
    Of friendship, love, and liberty,
                  Ere I was old!
_Youth and Age._
    I have heard of reasons manifold
      Why Love must needs be blind,
    But this the best of all I hold,
      His eyes are in his mind.
_To a Lady, Offended by a Sportive Observation._
    What outward form and feature are
      He guesseth but in part;
    But what within is good and fair
      He seeth with the heart.
_To a Lady, Offended by a Sportive Observation._
    Be that blind bard who on the Chian strand,
    By those deep sounds possessed with inward light,
    Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssey
    Rise to the swelling of the voiceful sea.
_Fancy in Nubibus._
    I counted two-and-seventy stenches,
    All well defined, and several stinks.
_Cologne._
    The river Rhine, it is well known,
    Doth wash your city of Cologne;
    But tell me, nymphs! what power divine
    Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?
_Cologne._
    Strongly it bears us along in swelling and limitless billows;
    Nothing before and nothing behind but the sky and the ocean.
_The Homeric Hexameter._ (Translated from Schiller.)
    In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column,
    In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.
_The Ovidian Elegiac Metre._ (From Schiller.)
    I stood in unimaginable trance
    And agony that cannot be remembered.
_Remorse. Act iv. Sc. 3._
    The intelligible forms of ancient poets,
    The fair humanities of old religion,
    The power, the beauty, and the majesty
    That had their haunts in dale or piny mountain,
    Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring,
    Or chasms and watery depths,--all these have vanished;
    They live no longer in the faith of reason.
_Wallenstein. Part i. Act ii. Sc. 4._ (Translated from Schiller.)
    I 've lived and loved.
_Wallenstein. Part i. Act ii. Sc. 6._
    Clothing the palpable and familiar
    With golden exhalations of the dawn.
_The Death of Wallenstein. Act i. Sc. 1._
                       Often do the spirits
    Of great events stride on before the events,
    And in to-day already walks to-morrow.
_The Death of Wallenstein. Act v. Sc. 1._
    Our myriad-minded Shakespeare.
_Biog. Lit. Chap. xv._
     A dwarf sees farther than the giant when he has the giant's
     shoulder to mount on.
_The Friend. Sec. i. Essay 8._
     An instinctive taste teaches men to build their churches in flat
     countries, with spire steeples, which, as they cannot be referred
     to any other object, point as with silent finger to the sky and
     star.
_Ibid., No. 14._
     Reviewers are usually people who would have been poets,
     historians, biographers, if they could; they have tried their
     talents at one or the other, and have failed; therefore they turn
     critics.
_Lectures on Shakespeare and Milton, p. 36. Delivered 1811-1812._
     Schiller has the material sublime.
_Table Talk._
     I wish our clever young poets would remember my homely
     definitions of prose and poetry; that is, prose,--words in their
     best order; poetry,--the best words in their best order.
_Table Talk._
     That passage is what I call the sublime dashed to pieces by
     cutting too close with the fiery four-in-hand round the corner of
     nonsense.
_Table Talk._
     Iago's soliloquy, the motive-hunting of a motiveless
     malignity--how awful it is!
_Notes on some other Plays of Shakespeare._
JOSIAH QUINCY. 
     If this bill [for the admission of Orleans Territory as a State
     passes, it is my deliberate opinion that it is virtually a
     dissolution of the Union; that it will free the States from their
     moral obligation; and, as it will be the right of all, so it will
     be the duty of some, definitely to prepare for a
     separation,--amicably if they can, violently if they must.
_Abridged Cong. Debates, Jan. 14, 1811. Vol. iv. p. 327._
ROBERT SOUTHEY. 1774-1843.
    "You are old, Father William," the young man cried,
      "The few locks which are left you are gray;
    You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man,
      Now tell me the reason I pray."
_The Old Man's Comforts, and how he gained them._
    The march of intellect.
_Colloquies on the Progress and Prospects of Society. Vol. ii. p. 360.
The Doctor, Chap. Extraordinary._
     The laws are with us, and God on our side.
_On the Rise and Progress of Popular Disaffection_ (1817), _Essay viii.
Vol. ii. p. 107._
     Agreed to differ.
_Life of Wesley._
    My days among the dead are passed;
      Around me I behold,
    Where'er these casual eyes are cast,
      The mighty minds of old;
    My never-failing friends are they,
    With whom I converse day by day.
_Occasional Pieces. xxiii._
      How does the water
    Come down at Lodore?
_The Cataract of Lodore._
      So I told them in rhyme,
    For of rhymes I had store.
_The Cataract of Lodore._
    Through moss and through brake.
_The Cataract of Lodore._
    Helter-skelter,
    Hurry-scurry.
_The Cataract of Lodore._
    A sight to delight in.
_The Cataract of Lodore._
    And so never ending, but always descending.
_The Cataract of Lodore._
    And this way the water comes down at Lodore.
_The Cataract of Lodore._
    From his brimstone bed, at break of day,
      A-walking the Devil is gone,
    To look at his little snug farm of the World,
      And see how his stock went on.
_The Devil's Walk. Stanza 1._
    He passed a cottage with a double coach-house,
      A cottage of gentility;
        And he owned with a grin,
        That his favourite sin
      Is pride that apes humility.
_The Devil's Walk. Stanza 8._
    Where Washington hath left
      His awful memory
      A light for after times!
_Ode written during the War with America, 1814._
        How beautiful is night!
      A dewy freshness fills the silent air;
    No mist obscures; nor cloud, or speck, nor stain,
      Breaks the serene of heaven:
      In full-orbed glory, yonder moon divine
      Rolls through the dark blue depths;
        Beneath her steady ray
        The desert circle spreads
    Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky.
        How beautiful is night!
_Thalaba. Book i. Stanza 1._
    "But what good came of it at last?"
    Quoth little Peterkin.
    "Why, that I cannot tell," said he;
    "But 't was a famous victory."
_The Battle of Blenheim._
    Blue, darkly, deeply, beautifully blue.
_Madoc in Wales. Part i. 5._
    What will not woman, gentle woman dare,
    When strong affection stirs her spirit up?
_Madoc in Wales. Part ii. 2._
        And last of all an Admiral came,
      A terrible man with a terrible name,
    A name which you all know by sight very well,
    But which no one can speak, and no one can spell.
_The March to Moscow. Stanza 8._
    They sin who tell us love can die;
    With life all other passions fly,
      All others are but vanity.
          .      .      .      .      .
                  Love is indestructible,
      Its holy flame forever burneth;
    From heaven it came, to heaven returneth.
          .      .      .      .      .
      It soweth here with toil and care,
    But the harvest-time of love is there.
_The Curse of Kehama. Canto x. Stanza 10._
    Oh, when a mother meets on high
      The babe she lost in infancy,
    Hath she not then for pains and fears,
      The day of woe, the watchful night,
      For all her sorrow, all her tears,
      An over-payment of delight?
_The Curse of Kehama. Canto x. Stanza 11._
    Thou hast been called, O sleep! the friend of woe;
    But 't is the happy that have called thee so.
_The Curse of Kehama. Canto xv. Stanza 11._
    The Satanic School.
_Vision of Judgment. Original Preface._
CHARLES LAMB. 1775-1834.
     The red-letter days now become, to all intents and purposes,
     dead-letter days.
_Oxford in the Vacation._
     For with G. D., to be absent from the body is sometimes (not to
     speak profanely) to be present with the Lord.
_Oxford in the Vacation._
     A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigour of the game.
_Mrs. Battle's Opinions on Whist._
     Sentimentally I am disposed to harmony; but organically I am
     incapable of a tune.
_A Chapter on Ears._
     Not if I know myself at all.
_The Old and New Schoolmaster._
     It is good to love the unknown.
_Valentine's Day._
     The pilasters reaching down were adorned with a glistering
     substance (I know not what) under glass (as it seemed),
     resembling--a homely fancy, but I judged it to be sugar-candy;
     yet to my raised imagination, divested of its homelier qualities,
     it appeared a glorified candy.
_My First Play._
     Presents, I often say, endear absents.
_A Dissertation upon Roast Pig._
     It argues an insensibility.
_A Dissertation upon Roast Pig._
     Books which are no books.
_Detached Thoughts on Books._
     Your absence of mind we have borne, till your presence of body
     came to be called in question by it.
_Amicus Redivivus._
                  Gone before
    To that unknown and silent shore.
_Hester. Stanza 7._
    I have had playmates, I have had companions,
    In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days.
    All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
_Old Familiar Faces._
    For thy sake, tobacco, I
    Would do anything but die.
_A Farewell to Tobacco._
    And half had staggered that stout Stagirite.
_Written at Cambridge._
    Who first invented work, and bound the free
    And holiday-rejoicing spirit down
        .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .
    To that dry drudgery at the desk's dead wood?
        .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .
    Sabbathless Satan!
_Work._
    I like you and your book, ingenious Hone!
      In whose capacious all-embracing leaves
    The very marrow of tradition 's shown;
      And all that history, much that fiction weaves.
_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._
     He might have proved a useful adjunct, if not an ornament to
     society.
_Captain Starkey._
     Neat, not gaudy.
_Letter to Wordsworth, 1806._
     Martin, if dirt was trumps, what hands you would hold!
_Lamb's Suppers._
     Returning to town in the stage-coach, which was filled with Mr.
     Gilman's guests, we stopped for a minute or two at Kentish Town.
     A woman asked the coachman, "Are you full inside?" Upon which
     Lamb put his head through the window and said, "I am quite full
     inside; that last piece of pudding at Mr. Gilman's did the
     business for me."
_Autobiographical Recollections._ (Leslie.)
JAMES SMITH. 1775-1839.
    No Drury Lane for you to-day.
_Rejected Addresses. The Baby's Début._
    I saw them go: one horse was blind,
    The tails of both hung down behind,
      Their shoes were on their feet.
_Rejected Addresses. The Baby's Début._
    Lax in their gaiters, laxer in their gait.
_The Theatre._
WILLIAM PITT. ---- -1840.
    A strong nor'-wester 's blowing, Bill!
      Hark! don't ye hear it roar now?
    Lord help 'em, how I pities them
      Unhappy folks on shore now!
_The Sailor's Consolation._
    My eyes! what tiles and chimney-pots
      About their heads are flying!
_The Sailor's Consolation._
WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. 1775-1864.
    Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
      May weep, but never see,
    A night of memories and of sighs
      I consecrate to thee.
_Rose Aylmer._
    Wearers of rings and chains!
    Pray do not take the pains
      To set me right.
    In vain my faults ye quote;
    I write as others wrote
      On Sunium's hight.
_The last Fruit of an old Tree. Epigram cvi._
    Shakespeare is not our poet, but the world's,
    Therefore on him no speech! And brief for thee,
    Browning! Since Chaucer was alive and hale,
    No man hath walk'd along our roads with steps
    So active, so inquiring eye, or tongue
    So varied in discourse.
_To Robert Browning._
    The Siren waits thee, singing song for song.
_To Robert Browning._
    But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue
    Within, and they that lustre have imbibed
    In the sun's palace-porch, where when unyoked
    His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave:
    Shake one, and it awakens; then apply
    Its polisht lips to your attentive ear,
    And it remembers its august abodes,
    And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.
_Gebir. Book i._ (1798).
    Past are three summers since she first beheld
    The ocean; all around the child await
    Some exclamation of amazement here.
    She coldly said, her long-lasht eyes abased,
    _Is this the mighty ocean? is this all?_
    That wondrous soul Charoba once possest,
    Capacious, then, as earth or heaven could hold,
    Soul discontented with capacity,
    Is gone (I fear) forever. Need I say
    She was enchanted by the wicked spells
    Of Gebir, whom with lust of power inflamed
    The western winds have landed on our coast?
    I since have watcht her in lone retreat,
    Have heard her sigh and soften out the name.
_Gebir. Book ii._
    I strove with none, for none was worth my strife;
      Nature I loved; and next to Nature, Art.
    I warm'd both hands against the fire of life;
      It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
_Dying Speech of an old Philosopher._
THOMAS CAMPBELL. 1777-1844.
    'T is distance lends enchantment to the view,
    And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part i. Line 7._
    But Hope, the charmer, linger'd still behind.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part i. Line 40._
    O Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country save!
_Pleasures of Hope. Part i. Line 359._
    Hope for a season bade the world farewell,
    And Freedom shriek'd as Kosciusko fell!
_Pleasures of Hope. Part i. Line 381._
    On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow,
    His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part i. Line 385._
    And rival all but Shakespeare's name below.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part i. Line 472._
    Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame,
    The power of grace, the magic of a name?
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 5._
    Without the smile from partial beauty won,
    Oh what were man?--a world without a sun.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 21._
    The world was sad, the garden was a wild,
    And man the hermit sigh'd--till woman smiled.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 37._
    While Memory watches o'er the sad review
    Of joys that faded like the morning dew.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 45._
    There shall he love when genial morn appears,
    Like pensive Beauty smiling in her tears.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 95._
    And muse on Nature with a poet's eye.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 98._
    That gems the starry girdle of the year.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 194._
    Melt and dispel, ye spectre-doubts, that roll
    Cimmerian darkness o'er the parting soul!
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 263._
    O star-eyed Science! hast thou wandered there,
    To waft us home the message of despair?
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 325._
    But sad as angels for the good man's sin,
    Weep to record, and blush to give it in.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 357._
    Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind,
    But leave, oh leave the light of Hope behind!
    What though my winged hours of bliss have been
    Like angel visits, few and far between.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 375._
    The hunter and the deer a shade.
_O'Connor's Child. Stanza 5._
    Another's sword has laid him low,
      Another's and another's;
    And every hand that dealt the blow
      Ah me! it was a brother's!
_O'Connor's Child. Stanza 10._
    'T is the sunset of life gives me mystical lore,
    And coming events cast their shadows before.
_Lochiel's Warning._
    Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low,
    With his back to the field and his feet to the foe,
    And leaving in battle no blot on his name,
    Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.
_Lochiel's Warning._
    And rustic life and poverty
    Grow beautiful beneath his touch.
_Ode to the Memory of Burns._
    Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,
    Whose truths electrify the sage.
_Ode to the Memory of Burns._
    Ye mariners of England,
    That guard our native seas;
    Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
    The battle and the breeze!
_Ye Mariners of England._
    Britannia needs no bulwarks,
    No towers along the steep;
    Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
    Her home is on the deep.
_Ye Mariners of England._
    When the stormy winds do blow;
    When the battle rages loud and long,
    And the stormy winds do blow.
_Ye Mariners of England._
    The meteor flag of England
    Shall yet terrific burn,
    Till danger's troubled night depart,
    And the star of peace return.
_Ye Mariners of England._
    There was silence deep as death,
    And the boldest held his breath
    For a time.
_Battle of the Baltic._
    The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
    Who rush to glory or the grave!
    Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave,
    And charge with all thy chivalry!
_Hohenlinden._
    Few, few shall part where many meet!
    The snow shall be their winding-sheet,
    And every turf beneath their feet
    Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
_Hohenlinden._
    There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin,
      The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
    For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing
      To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.
_The Exile of Erin._
    To bear is to conquer our fate.
_On visiting a Scene in Argyleshire._
    The sentinel stars set their watch in the sky.
_The Soldier's Dream._
    In life's morning march, when my bosom was young.
_The Soldier's Dream._
    But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,
    And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.
_The Soldier's Dream._
    Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
      When storms prepare to part,
    I ask not proud Philosophy
      To teach me what thou art.
_To the Rainbow._
    A stoic of the woods,--a man without a tear.
_Gertrude of Wyoming. Part i. Stanza 23._
    O Love! in such a wilderness as this.
_Gertrude of Wyoming. Part iii. Stanza 1._
    The torrent's smoothness, ere it dash below!
_Gertrude of Wyoming. Part iii. Stanza 5._
    Again to the battle, Achaians!
    Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance!
    Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree,
    It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free.
_Song of the Greeks._
    Drink ye to her that each loves best!
      And if you nurse a flame
    That 's told but to her mutual breast,
      We will not ask her name.
_Drink ye to Her._
    To live in hearts we leave behind
    Is not to die.
_Hallowed Ground._
    Oh leave this barren spot to me!
    Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!
_The Beech-Tree's Petition._
HENRY CLAY. 1777-1852.
     The gentleman [Josiah Quincy] cannot have forgotten his own
     sentiment, uttered even on the floor of this House, "Peaceably if
     we can, forcibly if we must."
_Speech, 1813._
     Government is a trust, and the officers of the government are
     trustees; and both the trust and the trustees are created for the
     benefit of the people.
_Speech at Ashland, Ky., March, 1829._
     I have heard something said about allegiance to the South. I know
     no South, no North, no East, no West, to which I owe any
     allegiance.
_Speech, 1848._
     Sir, I would rather be right than be President.
_Speech, 1850_ (referring to the Compromise Measures).
F. S. KEY. 1779-1843.
    And the star-spangled banner, oh long may it wave
    O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
_The Star-Spangled Banner._
    Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation!
    Then conquer we must when our cause it is just,
    And this be our motto, "In God is our trust!"
    And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
    O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
_The Star-Spangled Banner._
HORACE SMITH. 1779-1849.
    Thinking is but an idle waste of thought,
    And nought is everything and everything is nought.
_Rejected Addresses. Cui Bono?_
    In the name of the Prophet--figs.
_Johnson's Ghost._
    And thou hast walked about (how strange a story!)
      In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago,
    When the Memnonium was in all its glory.
_Address to the Mummy at Belzoni's Exhibition._
THOMAS MOORE. 1779-1852.
    When Time who steals our years away
      Shall steal our pleasures too,
    The mem'ry of the past will stay,
      And half our joys renew.
_Song. From Juvenile Poems._
    Weep on! and as thy sorrows flow,
    I 'll taste the luxury of woe.
_Anacreontic._
          Where bastard Freedom waves
    The fustian flag in mockery over slaves.
_To the Lord Viscount Forbes, written from the City of Washington._
    How shall we rank thee upon glory's page,
    Thou more than soldier, and just less than sage?
_To Thomas Hume._
    I knew, by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd
      Above the green elms, that a cottage was near;
    And I said, "If there 's peace to be found in the world,
      A heart that was humble might hope for it here."
_Ballad Stanzas._
    Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
    Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.
_A Canadian Boat-Song._
    Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
    The rapids are near, and the daylight 's past.
_A Canadian Boat-Song._
     The minds of some of our statesmen, like the pupil of the human
     eye, contract themselves the more, the stronger light there is
     shed upon them.
_Preface to Corruption and Intolerance._
    Like a young eagle who has lent his plume
    To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
    See their own feathers pluck'd to wing the dart
    Which rank corruption destines for their heart.
_Corruption._
    A Persian's heaven is eas'ly made:
    'T is but black eyes and lemonade.
_Intercepted Letters. Letter vi._
    There was a little man, and he had a little soul;
    And he said, Little Soul, let us try, try, try!
_Little Man and Little Soul._
    Go where glory waits thee!
    But while fame elates thee,
      Oh, still remember me!
_Go where Glory waits thee._
    Oh, breathe not his name! let it sleep in the shade,
    Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid,
_Oh breathe not his Name._
    And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls,
    Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
_Oh breathe not his Name._
    The harp that once through Tara's halls
      The soul of music shed,
    Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls
      As if that soul were fled.
    So sleeps the pride of former days,
      So glory's thrill is o'er;
    And hearts that once beat high for praise
      Now feel that pulse no more.
_The Harp that once through Tara's Halls._
                              Who ran
    Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all.
_On the Death of Sheridan._
    Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright,
    Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.
_On the Death of Sheridan._
    Good at a fight, but better at a play;
    Godlike in giving, but the devil to pay.
_On a Cast of Sheridan's Hand._
    Though an angel should write, still 't is devils must print.
_The Fudges in England. Letter iii._
    Fly not yet; 't is just the hour
    When pleasure, like the midnight flower
    That scorns the eye of vulgar light,
    Begins to bloom for sons of night
      And maids who love the moon.
_Fly not yet._
          Oh stay! oh stay!
    Joy so seldom weaves a chain
    Like this to-night, that oh 't is pain
      To break its links so soon.
_Fly not yet._
    When did morning ever break,
    And find such beaming eyes awake?
_Fly not yet._
    And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers
      Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.
_Oh think not my Spirits are always as light._
    Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
    And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore.
_Rich and rare were the Gems she wore._
    There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
    As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet.
_The Meeting of the Waters._
              Oh, weep for the hour
              When to Eveleen's bower
    The lord of the valley with false vows came.
_Eveleen's Bower._
    Shall I ask the brave soldier who fights by my side
    In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree?
_Come, send round the Wine._
    No, the heart that has truly lov'd never forgets,
      But as truly loves on to the close;
    As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets
      The same look which she turn'd when he rose.
_Believe me, if all those endearing young Charms._
              The moon looks
              On many brooks
    "The brook can see no moon but this."
_While gazing on the Moon's Light._
    And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen,
      The maiden herself will steal after it soon.
_Ill Omens._
    'T is sweet to think that where'er we rove
      We are sure to find something blissful and dear;
    And that when we 're far from the lips we love,
      We 've but to make love to the lips we are near.
_'T is sweet to think._
    'T is believ'd that this harp which I wake now for thee
    Was a siren of old who sung under the sea.
_The Origin of the Harp._
    But there 's nothing half so sweet in life
      As love's young dream.
_Love's Young Dream._
    To live with them is far less sweet
      Than to remember thee.
_I saw thy Form._
    Eyes of unholy blue.
_By that Lake whose gloomy Shore._
    'T is the last rose of summer,
      Left blooming alone.
_The Last Rose of Summer._
    When true hearts lie wither'd
      And fond ones are flown,
    Oh, who would inhabit
      This bleak world alone?
_The Last Rose of Summer._
                 And the best of all ways
                 To lengthen our days
    Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear.
_The Young May Moon._
    You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will,
    But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
_Farewell! But whenever you welcome the Hour._
    Thus, when the lamp that lighted
      The traveller at first goes out,
    He feels awhile benighted,
      And looks around in fear and doubt.
    But soon, the prospect clearing,
      By cloudless starlight on he treads,
    And thinks no lamp so cheering
      As that light which Heaven sheds.
_I 'd mourn the Hopes._
    No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us,
    All earth forgot, and all heaven around us.
_Come o'er the Sea._
    The light that lies
    In woman's eyes.
_The Time I 've lost in wooing._
            My only books
            Were woman's looks,
    And folly 's all they 've taught me.
_The Time I 've lost in wooing._
    I know not, I ask not, if guilt 's in that heart,
    I but know that I love thee whatever thou art.
_Come, rest in this Bosom._
    To live and die in scenes like this,
      With some we 've left behind us.
_As slow our Ship._
    Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious, and free,
    First flower of the earth and first gem of the sea.
_Remember Thee._
    All that 's bright must fade,
      The brightest still the fleetest;
    All that 's sweet was made
      But to be lost when sweetest.
_All that 's Bright must fade._
    Those evening bells! those evening bells!
    How many a tale their music tells
    Of youth and home, and that sweet time
    When last I heard their soothing chime!
_Those Evening Bells._
    Oft in the stilly night,
      Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
    Fond memory brings the light
      Of other days around me;
        The smiles, the tears,
        Of boyhood's years,
    The words of love then spoken;
        The eyes that shone
        Now dimmed and gone,
    The cheerful hearts now broken.
_Oft in the Stilly Night._
        I feel like one
        Who treads alone
    Some banquet-hall deserted,
        Whose lights are fled,
        Whose garlands dead,
    And all but he departed.
_Oft in the Stilly Night._
    As half in shade and half in sun
      This world along its path advances,
    May that side the sun 's upon
      Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances!
_Peace be around Thee._
    If I speak to thee in friendship's name,
      Thou think'st I speak too coldly;
    If I mention love's devoted flame,
      Thou say'st I speak too boldly.
_How shall I woo?_
    A friendship that like love is warm;
      A love like friendship, steady.
_How shall I woo?_
    The bird let loose in Eastern skies,
      Returning fondly home,
    Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies
      Where idle warblers roam;
    But high she shoots through air and light,
      Above all low delay,
    Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
      Nor shadow dims her way.
_Oh that I had Wings._
    This world is all a fleeting show,
      For man's illusion given;
    The smiles of joy, the tears of woe,
    Deceitful shine, deceitful flow,
      There 's nothing true but Heaven.
_This World is all a fleeting Show._
    Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
    Jehovah has triumph'd,--his people are free.
_Sound the loud Timbrel._
    As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean
      Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see,
    So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion,
      Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee.
    As still to the star of its worship, though clouded,
      The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea,
    So dark when I roam in this wintry world shrouded,
      The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee.
_The Heart's Prayer._
    Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;
    Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.
_Come, ye Disconsolate._
    Oh call it by some better name,
      For friendship sounds too cold.
_Oh call it by some better Name._
    When twilight dews are falling soft
      Upon the rosy sea, love,
    I watch the star whose beam so oft
      Has lighted me to thee, love.
_When Twilight Dews._
    I give thee all,--I can no more,
      Though poor the off'ring be;
    My heart and lute are all the store
      That I can bring to thee.
_My Heart and Lute._
    Who has not felt how sadly sweet
      The dream of home, the dream of home,
    Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet,
      When far o'er sea or land we roam?
_The Dream of Home._
    To Greece we give our shining blades.
_Evenings in Greece. First Evening._
    When thus the heart is in a vein
    Of tender thought, the simplest strain
    Can touch it with peculiar power.
_Evenings in Greece. First Evening._
    If thou would'st have me sing and play
      As once I play'd and sung,
    First take this time-worn lute away,
      And bring one freshly strung.
_If Thou would'st have Me sing and play._
    To sigh, yet feel no pain;
      To weep, yet scarce know why;
    To sport an hour with Beauty's chain,
      Then throw it idly by.
_The Blue Stocking._
    Ay, down to the dust with them, slaves as they are!
      From this hour let the blood in their dastardly veins,
    That shrunk at the first touch of Liberty's war,
      Be wasted for tyrants, or stagnate in chains.
_On the Entry of the Austrians into Naples, 1821._
    This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas,
    The past, the future,--two eternities!
_Lalla Rookh. The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan._
    But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast
    To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last.
_Lalla Rookh. The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan._
    There 's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream.
_Lalla Rookh. The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan._
    Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun,
    Grow pure by being purely shone upon.
_Lalla Rookh. The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan._
    One morn a Peri at the gate
    Of Eden stood disconsolate.
_Paradise and the Peri._
    Take all the pleasures of all the spheres,
    And multiply each through endless years,
    One minute of heaven is worth them all.
_Paradise and the Peri._
    But the trail of the serpent is over them all.
_Paradise and the Peri._
    Oh, ever thus, from childhood's hour,
      I 've seen my fondest hopes decay;
    I never loved a tree or flower
      But 't was the first to fade away.
    I never nurs'd a dear gazelle,
      To glad me with its soft black eye,
    But when it came to know me well
      And love me, it was sure to die.
_The Fire-Worshippers._
    Oh for a tongue to curse the slave
      Whose treason, like a deadly blight,
    Comes o'er the councils of the brave,
      And blasts them in their hour of might!
_The Fire-Worshippers._
    Beholding heaven, and feeling hell.
_The Fire-Worshippers._
    As sunshine broken in the rill,
    Though turned astray, is sunshine still.
_The Fire-Worshippers._
    Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter!
    Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea.
_The Fire-Worshippers._
    Alas! how light a cause may move
    Dissension between hearts that love!
    Hearts that the world in vain had tried,
    And sorrow but more closely tied;
    That stood the storm when waves were rough,
    Yet in a sunny hour fall off,
    Like ships that have gone down at sea
    When heaven was all tranquillity.
_Lalla Rookh. The Light of the Harem._
    Love on through all ills, and love on till they die.
_Lalla Rookh. The Light of the Harem._
    And oh if there be an Elysium on earth,
            It is this, it is this!
_Lalla Rookh. The Light of the Harem._
    Humility, that low, sweet root
    From which all heavenly virtues shoot.
_The Loves of the Angels. The Third Angel's Story._
LORD DENMAN. 1779-1854.
     A delusion, a mockery, and a snare.
_O'Connell v. The Queen, 11 Clark and Finnelly Reports._
     The mere repetition of the _Cantilena_ of lawyers cannot make it
     law, unless it can be traced to some competent authority; and if
     it be irreconcilable, to some clear legal principle.
_O'Connell v. The Queen, 11 Clark and Finnelly Reports._
CLEMENT C. MOORE. 1779-1863.
    'T was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
    Not a creature was stirring,--not even a mouse;
    The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
    In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
_A Visit from St. Nicholas._
LORD BROUGHAM. 1779-1868.
     Let the soldier be abroad if he will, he can do nothing in this
     age. There is another personage,--a personage less imposing in
     the eyes of some, perhaps insignificant. The schoolmaster is
     abroad, and I trust to him, armed with his primer, against the
     soldier in full military array.
_Speech, Jan. 29, 1828._
     In my mind, he was guilty of no error, he was chargeable with no
     exaggeration, he was betrayed by his fancy into no metaphor, who
     once said that all we see about us, kings, lords, and Commons,
     the whole machinery of the State, all the apparatus of the
     system, and its varied workings, end in simply bringing twelve
     good men into a box.
_Present State of the Law, Feb. 7, 1828._
     Pursuit of knowledge under difficulties.
     Death was now armed with a new terror.
PAUL MOON JAMES. 1780-1854.
    The scene was more beautiful far to the eye
      Than if day in its pride had arrayed it.
_The Beacon._
    And o'er them the lighthouse looked lovely as hope,
      That star of life's tremulous ocean.
_The Beacon._
CHARLES MINER. 1780-1865.
     When I see a merchant over-polite to his customers, begging them
     to taste a little brandy and throwing half his goods on the
     counter,--thinks I, that man has an axe to grind.
_Who 'll turn Grindstones._
JOHN C. CALHOUN. 1782-1850.
     The very essence of a free government consists in considering
     offices as public trusts,[529-1] bestowed for the good of the
     country, and not for the benefit of an individual or a party.
_Speech, Feb. 13, 1835._
     A power has risen up in the government greater than the people
     themselves, consisting of many and various and powerful
     interests, combined into one mass, and held together by the
     cohesive power of the vast surplus in the banks.
_Speech, May 27, 1836._
DANIEL WEBSTER. 1782-1852.
(_From Webster's Works. Boston. 1857._)
     Whatever makes men good Christians, makes them good citizens.
_Speech at Plymouth, Dec. 22, 1820._[529-3] _Vol. i. p. 44._
     We wish that this column, rising towards heaven among the pointed
     spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may contribute also
     to produce in all minds a pious feeling of dependence and
     gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last object to the sight of
     him who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden his who
     revisits it, may be something which shall remind him of the
     liberty and the glory of his country. Let it rise! let it rise,
     till it meet the sun in his coming; let the earliest light of the
     morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its summit!
_Address on laying the Corner-Stone of the Bunker Hill Monument, 1825. P.
62._
     Venerable men! you have come down to us from a former generation.
     Heaven has bounteously lengthened out your lives, that you might
     behold this joyous day.
_Address on laying the Corner-Stone of the Bunker Hill Monument, 1825.
Vol. i. p. 64._
     Mind is the great lever of all things; human thought is the
     process by which human ends are ultimately answered.
_Address on laying the Corner-Stone of the Bunker Hill Monument, 1825.
Vol. i. p. 71._
     Knowledge, in truth, is the great sun in the firmament. Life and
     power are scattered with all its beams.
_Address on laying the Corner-Stone of the Bunker Hill Monument, 1825.
Vol. i. p. 74._
     Let our object be our country, our whole country, and nothing but
     our country.
_Address on laying the Corner-Stone of the Bunker Hill Monument, 1825.
Vol. i. p. 78._
     Knowledge is the only fountain both of the love and the
     principles of human liberty.
_Completion of Bunker Hill Monument, June 17, 1843. P. 93._
     The Bible is a book of faith, and a book of doctrine, and a book
     of morals, and a book of religion, of especial revelation from
     God.
_Completion of Bunker Hill Monument, June 17, 1843. P. 102._
     America has furnished to the world the character of Washington.
     And if our American institutions had done nothing else, that
     alone would have entitled them to the respect of mankind.
_Completion of Bunker Hill Monument, June 17, 1843. P. 105._
     Thank God! I--I also--am an American!
_Completion of Bunker Hill Monument, June 17, 1843. P. 107._
     Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand and
     my heart to this vote.
_Eulogy on Adams and Jefferson, Aug. 2, 1826. P. 133._
     It is my living sentiment, and by the blessing of God it shall be
     my dying sentiment,--Independence now and Independence
     forever.
_Eulogy on Adams and Jefferson, Aug. 2, 1826. Vol. i. p. 136._
     Although no sculptured marble should rise to their memory, nor
     engraved stone bear record of their deeds, yet will their
     remembrance be as lasting as the land they honored.
_Eulogy on Adams and Jefferson, Aug. 2, 1826. Vol. i. p. 146._
     Washington is in the clear upper sky.
_Eulogy on Adams and Jefferson, Aug. 2, 1826. Vol. i. p. 148._
     He smote the rock of the national resources, and abundant streams
     of revenue gushed forth. He touched the dead corpse of Public
     Credit, and it sprung upon its feet.
_Speech on Hamilton, March 10, 1831. P. 200._
     One country, one constitution, one destiny.
_Speech, March 15, 1837. P. 349._
     When tillage begins, other arts follow. The farmers therefore are
     the founders of human civilization.
_Remarks on Agriculture, Jan. 13, 1840. P. 457._
     Sea of upturned faces.
_Speech, Sept. 30, 1842. Vol. ii. p. 117._
     Justice, sir, is the great interest of man on earth.
_On Mr. Justice Story, 1845. P. 300._
     Liberty exists in proportion to wholesome restraint.
_Speech at the Charleston Bar Dinner, May 10, 1847. Vol. ii. p. 393._
     The law: It has honored us; may we honor it.
_Toast at the Charleston Bar Dinner, May 10, 1847. Vol. ii. p. 394._
     I have read their platform, and though I think there are some
     unsound places in it, I can stand upon it pretty well. But I see
     nothing in it both new and valuable. "What is valuable is not
     new, and what is new is not valuable."
_Speech at Marshfield, Sept. 1, 1848. P. 433._
     Labour in this country is independent and proud. It has not to
     ask the patronage of capital, but capital solicits the aid of
     labor.
_Speech, April, 1824. Vol. iii. p. 141._
     The gentleman has not seen how to reply to this, otherwise than
     by supposing me to have advanced the doctrine that a national
     debt is a national blessing.
_Second Speech on Foot's Resolution, Jan. 26, 1830. P. 303._
     I thank God, that if I am gifted with little of the spirit which
     is able to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I
     trust, of that other spirit which would drag angels down.
_Second Speech on Foot's Resolution, Jan. 26, 1830. P. 316._
     I shall enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts; she needs none.
     There she is. Behold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her
     history; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is
     secure. There is Boston and Concord and Lexington and Bunker
     Hill; and there they will remain forever.
_Second Speech on Foot's Resolution, Jan. 26, 1830. P. 317._
     The people's government, made for the people, made by the people,
     and answerable to the people.
_Second Speech on Foot's Resolution, Jan. 26, 1830. P. 321._
     When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun
     in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored
     fragments of a once glorious Union; on States dissevered,
     discordant, belligerent; on a land rent with civil feuds, or
     drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood.
_Second Speech on Foot's Resolution, Jan. 26, 1830. Vol. iii. p. 342._
     Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable.
_Second Speech on Foot's Resolution, Jan. 26, 1830. Vol. iii. p. 342._
     God grants liberty only to those who love it, and are always
     ready to guard and defend it.
_Speech, June 3, 1834. Vol. iv. p. 47._
     On this question of principle, while actual suffering was yet
     afar off, they [the Colonies] raised their flag against a power
     to which, for purposes of foreign conquest and subjugation, Rome
     in the height of her glory is not to be compared,--a power which
     has dotted over the surface of the whole globe with her
     possessions and military posts, whose morning drum-beat,
     following the sun,[533-1] and keeping company with the hours,
     circles the earth with one continuous and unbroken strain of the
     martial airs of England.
_Speech, May 7, 1834. P. 110._
     Inconsistencies of opinion, arising from changes of
     circumstances, are often justifiable.
_Speech, July 25 and 27, 1846. Vol. v. p. 187._
     I was born an American; I will live an American; I shall die an
     American.
_Speech, July 17, 1850. P. 437._
     There is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is
     confession.
_Argument on the Murder of Captain White, April 6, 1830. Vol. vi. p. 54._
     There is nothing so powerful as truth,--and often nothing so
     strange.
_Argument on the Murder of Captain White. Vol. vi. p. 68._
     Fearful concatenation of circumstances.
_Argument on the Murder of Captain White. Vol. vi. p. 88._
     A sense of duty pursues us ever. It is omnipresent, like the
     Deity. If we take to ourselves the wings of the morning, and
     dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, duty performed or duty
     violated is still with us, for our happiness or our misery. If we
     say the darkness shall cover us, in the darkness as in the light
     our obligations are yet with us.
_Argument on the Murder of Captain White. Vol. vi. p. 105._
     I shall defer my visit to Faneuil Hall, the cradle of American
     liberty, until its doors shall fly open on golden hinges to
     lovers of Union as well as lovers of liberty.
_Letter, April, 1851._
JANE TAYLOR. 1783-1824.
    Though man a thinking being is defined,
    Few use the grand prerogative of mind.
    How few think justly of the thinking few!
    How many never think, who think they do!
_Essays in Rhyme._ (_On Morals and Manners. Prejudice._) _Essay i. Stanza
45._
    Far from mortal cares retreating,
      Sordid hopes and vain desires,
    Here, our willing footsteps meeting,
      Every heart to heaven aspires.
_Hymn._
    I thank the goodness and the grace
      Which on my birth have smiled,
    And made me, in these Christian days,
      A happy Christian child.
_A Child's Hymn of Praise._
    Oh that it were my chief delight
      To do the things I ought!
    Then let me try with all my might
      To mind what I am taught.
_For a Very Little Child._
    Who ran to help me when I fell,
    And would some pretty story tell,
    Or kiss the place to make it well?
                            My mother.
_My Mother._
REGINALD HEBER. 1783-1826.
    Failed the bright promise of your early day.
_Palestine._
    No hammers fell, no ponderous axes rung;
    Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung.
    Majestic silence!
_Palestine._
    Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
    Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid.
_Epiphany._
    By cool Siloam's shady rill
      How sweet the lily grows!
_First Sunday after Epiphany. No. ii._
    When Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.
_Seventh Sunday after Trinity._
    Death rides on every passing breeze,
      He lurks in every flower.
_At a Funeral. No. i._
    Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee,
    Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb.
_At a Funeral. No. ii._
    Thus heavenly hope is all serene,
      But earthly hope, how bright soe'er,
    Still fluctuates o'er this changing scene,
      As false and fleeting as 't is fair.
_On Heavenly Hope and Earthly Hope._
    From Greenland's icy mountains,
      From India's coral strand,
    Where Afric's sunny fountains
      Roll down their golden sand.
_Missionary Hymn._
    Though every prospect pleases,
      And only man is vile.
_Missionary Hymn._
    I see them on their winding way,
    About their ranks the moonbeams play.
_Lines written to a March._
WASHINGTON IRVING. 1783-1859.
     Free-livers on a small scale, who are prodigal within the compass
     of a guinea.
_The Stout Gentleman._
     The almighty dollar,[536-1] that great object of universal
     devotion throughout our land, seems to have no genuine devotees
     in these peculiar villages.
_The Creole Village._
LEIGH HUNT. 1784-1859.
    Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
    Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace.
_Abou Ben Adhem._
    Write me as one who loves his fellow-men.
_Abou Ben Adhem._
    And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
_Abou Ben Adhem._
    Oh for a seat in some poetic nook,
    Just hid with trees and sparkling with a brook!
_Politics and Poetics._
    With spots of sunny openings, and with nooks
    To lie and read in, sloping into brooks.
_The Story of Rimini._
SAMUEL WOODWORTH. 1785-1842.
    How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,
    When fond recollection presents them to view.
_The Old Oaken Bucket._
    Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing,
    And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well.
_The Old Oaken Bucket._
    The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,
    The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.
_The Old Oaken Bucket._
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 1785-1842.
    A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
      A wind that follows fast,
    And fills the white and rustling sail,
      And bends the gallant mast.
    And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
      While like the eagle free
    Away the good ship flies, and leaves
      Old England on the lee.
_A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea._
    While the hollow oak our palace is,
      Our heritage the sea.
_A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea._
    When looks were fond and words were few.
_Poet's Bridal-day Song._
SIR W. F. P. NAPIER. 1785-1860.
     Napoleon's troops fought in bright fields, where every helmet
     caught some gleams of glory; but the British soldier conquered
     under the cool shade of aristocracy. No honours awaited his
     daring, no despatch gave his name to the applauses of his
     countrymen; his life of danger and hardship was uncheered by
     hope, his death unnoticed.
_Peninsular War_ (1810). _Vol. ii. Book xi. Chap. iii._
JOHN PIERPONT. 1785-1866.
    A weapon that comes down as still
      As snowflakes fall upon the sod;
    But executes a freeman's will,
      As lightning does the will of God;
    And from its force nor doors nor locks
    Can shield you,--'t is the ballot-box.
_A Word from a Petitioner._
    From every place below the skies
      The grateful song, the fervent prayer,
    The incense of the heart,[538-1]--may rise
      To heaven, and find acceptance there.
_Every Place a Temple._
BRYAN W. PROCTER. 1787-1874.
    The sea! the sea! the open sea!
    The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
_The Sea._
    I 'm on the sea! I 'm on the sea!
    I am where I would ever be,
    With the blue above and the blue below,
    And silence wheresoe'er I go.
_The Sea._
    I never was on the dull, tame shore,
    But I loved the great sea more and more.
_The Sea._
    Touch us gently, Time!
      Let us glide adown thy stream
    Gently,--as we sometimes glide
      Through a quiet dream.
_Touch us gently, Time._
LORD BYRON 1788-1824.
    Farewell! if ever fondest prayer
      For other's weal avail'd on high,
    Mine will not all be lost in air,
      But waft thy name beyond the sky.
_Farewell! if ever fondest Prayer._
    I only know we loved in vain;
      I only feel--farewell! farewell!
_Farewell! if ever fondest Prayer._
    When we two parted
      In silence and tears,
    Half broken-hearted,
      To sever for years.
_When we Two parted._
    Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 6._
    'T is pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print;
    A book 's a book, although there 's nothing in 't.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 51._
    With just enough of learning to misquote.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 66._
                               As soon
    Seek roses in December, ice in June;
    Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff;
    Believe a woman or an epitaph,
    Or any other thing that 's false, before
    You trust in critics.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 75._
    Perverts the Prophets and purloins the Psalms.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 326._
    Oh, Amos Cottle! Phoebus! what a name!
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 399._
    So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain,
    No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
    View'd his own feather on the fatal dart,
    And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 826._
    Yet truth will sometimes lend her noblest fires,
    And decorate the verse herself inspires:
    This fact, in virtue's name, let Crabbe attest,
    Though Nature's sternest painter, yet the best.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 839._
    Maid of Athens, ere we part,
    Give, oh give me back my heart!
_Maid of Athens._
    Had sigh'd to many, though he loved but one.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 5._
    If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy men.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 7._
    Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,
    And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 9._
    Such partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 10._
    Might shake the saintship of an anchorite.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 11._
    Adieu! adieu! my native shore
    Fades o'er the waters blue.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 13._
    My native land, good night!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 13._
    O Christ! it is a goodly sight to see
    What Heaven hath done for this delicious land.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 15._
    In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 20._
    By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see
    For one who hath no friend, no brother there.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 40._
    Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs
    Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 82._
    War, war is still the cry,--"war even to the knife!"
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 86._
    Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 2._
    A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 2._
    Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 2._
    The dome of thought, the palace of the soul.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 6._
    Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 23._
    None are so desolate but something dear,
    Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd
    A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 24._
    But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
    To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
    And roam along, the world's tired denizen,
    With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 26._
    Coop'd in their winged, sea-girt citadel.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 28._
    Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth!
    Immortal, though no more! though fallen, great!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 73._
    Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not,
    Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow?
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 76._
    A thousand years scarce serve to form a state:
    An hour may lay it in the dust.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 84._
    Land of lost gods and godlike men.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 85._
    Where'er we tread, 't is haunted, holy ground.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 88._
    Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 88._
    Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 1._
    Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
    And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
    That knows his rider.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 2._
                            I am as a weed
    Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam to sail
    Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 2._
    He who grown aged in this world of woe,
    In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life,
    So that no wonder waits him.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 5._
                                   Years steal
    Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb,
    And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 8._
    There was a sound of revelry by night,
    And Belgium's capital had gather'd then
    Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
    The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.
    A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
    Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
    Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,
    And all went merry as a marriage bell.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 21._
    But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
    Did ye not hear it?--No! 't was but the wind,
    Or the car rattling o'er the stony street.
    On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
    No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
    To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 22._
    He rush'd into the field, and foremost fighting fell.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 23._
    And there was mounting in hot haste.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 25._
    Or whispering with white lips, "The foe! They come! they come!"
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 25._
    Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,
    Over the unreturning brave.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 27._
    Battle's magnificently stern array.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 28._
    And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 32._
    But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 42._
    He who ascends to mountain-tops shall find
    The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow;
    He who surpasses or subdues mankind
    Must look down on the hate of those below.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 45._
    All tenantless, save to the crannying wind.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 47._
    The castled crag of Drachenfels
    Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 55._
                          He had kept
    The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er him wept.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 57._
    But there are wanderers o'er Eternity
    Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 70._
    By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 71._
    I live not in myself, but I become
    Portion of that around me;[543-1] and to me
    High mountains are a feeling, but the hum
    Of human cities torture.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 72._
    This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing
    To waft me from distraction.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 85._
                           On the ear
    Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 86._
    All is concentr'd in a life intense,
    Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,
    But hath a part of being.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 89._
    In solitude, where we are least alone.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 90._
    The sky is changed,--and such a change! O night
    And storm and darkness! ye are wondrous strong,
    Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light
    Of a dark eye in woman! Far along,
    From peak to peak, the rattling crags among,
    Leaps the live thunder.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 92._
                        Exhausting thought,
    And hiving wisdom with each studious year.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 107._
    Sapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 107._
    I have not loved the world, nor the world me.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 113._
                               I stood
    Among them, but not of them; in a shroud
    Of thoughts which were not their thoughts.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 113._
    I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs,
    A palace and a prison on each hand.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 1._
    Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 1._
                      Venice once was dear,
    The pleasant place of all festivity,
    The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 3._
    The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree
    I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed.
    I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 10._
    Oh for one hour of blind old Dandolo,
    The octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 12._
    There are some feelings time cannot benumb,
    Nor torture shake.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 19._
    Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 23._
    The cold, the changed, perchance the dead, anew,
    The mourn'd, the loved, the lost,--too many, yet how few!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 24._
                                Parting day
    Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues
    With a new colour as it gasps away,
    The last still loveliest, till--'t is gone, and all is gray.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 29._
    The Ariosto of the North.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 40._
    Italia! O Italia! thou who hast
    The fatal gift of beauty.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 42._
                         Fills
    The air around with beauty.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 49._
    Let these describe the undescribable.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 53._
    The starry Galileo with his woes.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 54._
    Ungrateful Florence! Dante sleeps afar,
    Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 57._
    The poetry of speech.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 58._
    The hell of waters! where they howl and hiss,
    And boil in endless torture.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 69._
    Then farewell Horace, whom I hated so,
    Not for thy faults, but mine.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 77._
    O Rome! my country! city of the soul!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 78._
    The Niobe of nations! there she stands.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 79._
    Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying,
    Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 98._
    Heaven gives its favourites--early death.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 102._
    History, with all her volumes vast,
    Hath but one page.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 108._
                                 Man!
    Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 109._
    Tully was not so eloquent as thou,
    Thou nameless column with the buried base.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 110._
    Egeria! sweet creation of some heart
    Which found no mortal resting-place so fair
    As thine ideal breast.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 115._
    The nympholepsy of some fond despair.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 115._
    Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 115._
    Alas! our young affections run to waste,
    Or water but the desert.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 120._
    I see before me the gladiator lie.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 140._
    There were his young barbarians all at play;
    There was their Dacian mother: he, their sire,
    Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 141._
    "While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand;
    When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;
    And when Rome falls--the world."
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 145._
    Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou?
    Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead?
    Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low
    Some less majestic, less beloved head?
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 168._
    Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place,
    With one fair spirit for my minister,
    That I might all forget the human race,
    And hating no one, love but only her!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 177._
    There is a pleasure in the pathless woods;
    There is a rapture on the lonely shore;
    There is society, where none intrudes,
    By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
    I love not man the less, but Nature more.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 178._
    Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll!
    Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
    Man marks the earth with ruin,--his control
    Stops with the shore.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 179._
    He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
    Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 179._
    Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow,
    Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 182._
    Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
    Glasses itself in tempests.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 183._
    And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
    Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
    Borne, like thy bubbles, onward; from a boy
    I wantoned with thy breakers,
          .      .      .      .      .
    And trusted to thy billows far and near,
    And laid my hand upon thy mane,--as I do here.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 184._
              And what is writ is writ,
    Would it were worthier!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 185._
    Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been,
    A sound which makes us linger; yet--farewell!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 186._
              Hands promiscuously applied,
    Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.
_The Waltz._
    He who hath bent him o'er the dead
    Ere the first day of death is fled,
    The first dark day of nothingness,
    The last of danger and distress,
    Before decay's effacing fingers
    Have swept the lines where beauty lingers.
_The Giaour. Line 68._
    Such is the aspect of this shore;
    'T is Greece, but living Greece no more!
    So coldly sweet, so deadly fair,
    We start, for soul is wanting there.
_The Giaour. Line 90._
    Shrine of the mighty! can it be
    That this is all remains of thee?
_The Giaour. Line 106._
    For freedom's battle, once begun,
    Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son,
    Though baffled oft, is ever won.
_The Giaour. Line 123._
    And lovelier things have mercy shown
    To every failing but their own;
    And every woe a tear can claim,
    Except an erring sister's shame.
_The Giaour. Line 418._
    The keenest pangs the wretched find
      Are rapture to the dreary void,
    The leafless desert of the mind,
      The waste of feelings unemployed.
_The Giaour. Line 957._
    Better to sink beneath the shock
    Than moulder piecemeal on the rock.
_The Giaour. Line 969._
    The cold in clime are cold in blood,
      Their love can scarce deserve the name.
_The Giaour. Line 1099._
    I die,--but first I have possess'd,
    And come what may, I _have been_ bless'd.
_The Giaour. Line 1114._
    She was a form of life and light
    That seen, became a part of sight,
    And rose, where'er I turn'd mine eye,
    The morning-star of memory!
    Yes, love indeed is light from heaven;
      A spark of that immortal fire
    With angels shared, by Alla given,
      To lift from earth our low desire.
_The Giaour. Line 1127._
    Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle
      Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime;
    Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
      Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Stanza 1._
    Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
    And all save the spirit of man is divine?
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Stanza 1._
    Who hath not proved how feebly words essay
    To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray?
    Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
    Faints into dimness with its own delight,
    His changing cheek, his sinking heart, confess
    The might, the majesty of loveliness?
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Stanza 6._
    The light of love,[550-1] the purity of grace,
    The mind, the music breathing from her face,
    The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,
    And oh, that eye was in itself a soul!
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Stanza 6._
    The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle.
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto ii. Stanza 2._
    Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life,
    The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,
    And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto ii. Stanza 20._
    He makes a solitude, and calls it--peace!
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto ii. Stanza 20._
    Hark! to the hurried question of despair:
    "Where is my child?"--an echo answers, "Where?"
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto ii. Stanza 27._
    The fatal facility of the octosyllabic verse.
_The Corsair. Preface._
    O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
    Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,
    Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
    Survey our empire, and behold our home!
    These are our realms, no limit to their sway,
    Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 1._
    Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 1._
    She walks the waters like a thing of life,
    And seems to dare the elements to strife.
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 3._
    The power of thought,--the magic of the mind!
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 8._
    The many still must labour for the one.
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 8._
    There was a laughing devil in his sneer.
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 9._
    Hope withering fled, and Mercy sighed farewell!
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 9._
                          Farewell!
    For in that word, that fatal word,--howe'er
    We promise, hope, believe,--there breathes despair.
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 15._
    No words suffice the secret soul to show,
    For truth denies all eloquence to woe.
_The Corsair. Canto iii. Stanza 22._
    He left a corsair's name to other times,
    Link'd with one virtue and a thousand crimes.
_The Corsair. Canto iii. Stanza 24._
    Lord of himself,--that heritage of woe!
_Lara. Canto i. Stanza 2._
    She walks in beauty, like the night
      Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
    And all that 's best of dark and bright
      Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
    Thus mellow'd to that tender light
      Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
_Hebrew Melodies. She walks in Beauty._
    The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
    And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold.
_The Destruction of Sennacherib._
    It is the hour when from the boughs
      The nightingale's high note is heard;
    It is the hour when lovers' vows
      Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.
_Parisina. Stanza 1._
    Yet in my lineaments they trace
    Some features of my father's face.
_Parisina. Stanza 13._
    Fare thee well! and if forever,
      Still forever fare thee well.
_Fare thee well._
    Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred.
_A Sketch._
    In the desert a fountain is springing,
      In the wide waste there still is a tree,
    And a bird in the solitude singing,
      Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
_Stanzas to Augusta._
    The careful pilot of my proper woe.
_Epistle to Augusta. Stanza 3._
    When all of genius which can perish dies.
_Monody on the Death of Sheridan. Line 22._
    Folly loves the martyrdom of fame.
_Monody on the Death of Sheridan. Line 68._
    Who track the steps of glory to the grave.
_Monody on the Death of Sheridan. Line 74._
    Sighing that Nature form'd but one such man,
    And broke the die, in moulding Sheridan.
_Monody on the Death of Sheridan. Line 117._
    O God! it is a fearful thing
    To see the human soul take wing
    In any shape, in any mood.
_Prisoner of Chillon. Stanza 8._
    And both were young, and one was beautiful.
_The Dream. Stanza 2._
                   And to his eye
    There was but one beloved face on earth,
    And that was shining on him.
_The Dream. Stanza 2._
                    She was his life,
    The ocean to the river of his thoughts,
    Which terminated all.
_The Dream. Stanza 2._
    A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
_The Dream. Stanza 3._
    And they were canopied by the blue sky,
    So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful
    That God alone was to be seen in heaven.
_The Dream. Stanza 4._
    There 's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.
_Stanzas for Music._
    I had a dream which was not all a dream.
_Darkness._
    My boat is on the shore,
      And my bark is on the sea;
    But before I go, Tom Moore,
      Here 's a double health to thee!
_To Thomas Moore._
    Here 's a sigh to those who love me,
      And a smile to those who hate;
    And whatever sky 's above me,
      Here 's a heart for every fate.
_To Thomas Moore._
    Were 't the last drop in the well,
      As I gasp'd upon the brink,
    Ere my fainting spirit fell
      'T is to thee that I would drink.
_To Thomas Moore._
    So we 'll go no more a-roving
      So late into the night.
_So we 'll go._
    Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains;
      They crowned him long ago
    On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,
      With a diadem of snow.
_Manfred. Act i. Sc. 1._
    But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we,
    Half dust, half deity, alike unfit
    To sink or soar.
_Manfred. Act i. Sc. 2._
    Think'st thou existence doth depend on time?
    It doth; but actions are our epochs.
_Manfred. Act ii. Sc. 1._
                        The heart ran o'er
    With silent worship of the great of old!
    The dead but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule
    Our spirits from their urns.
_Manfred. Act iii. Sc. 4._
             Which makes life itself a lie,
    Flattering dust with eternity.
_Sardanapalus. Act i. Sc. 2._
    By all that 's good and glorious.
_Sardanapalus. Act i. Sc. 2._
    I am the very slave of circumstance
    And impulse,--borne away with every breath!
_Sardanapalus. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    The dust we tread upon was once alive.
_Sardanapalus. Act iv. Sc. 1._
    For most men (till by losing rendered sager)
    Will back their own opinions by a wager.
_Beppo. Stanza 27._
    Soprano, basso, even the contra-alto,
    Wished him five fathom under the Rialto.
_Beppo. Stanza 32._
    His heart was one of those which most enamour us,
    Wax to receive, and marble to retain.
_Beppo. Stanza 34._
    Besides, they always smell of bread and butter.
_Beppo. Stanza 39._
                     That soft bastard Latin,
    Which melts like kisses from a female mouth.
_Beppo. Stanza 44._
    Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes,
    Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.
_Beppo. Stanza 45._
    O Mirth and Innocence! O milk and water!
    Ye happy mixtures of more happy days.
_Beppo. Stanza 80._
    And if we do but watch the hour,
    There never yet was human power
    Which could evade, if unforgiven,
    The patient search and vigil long
    Of him who treasures up a wrong.
_Mazeppa. Stanza 10._
    They never fail who die
    In a great cause.
_Marino Faliero. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    Whose game was empires and whose stakes were thrones,
    Whose table earth, whose dice were human bones.
_Age of Bronze. Stanza 3._
    I loved my country, and I hated him.
_The Vision of Judgment. lxxxiii._
    Sublime tobacco! which from east to west
    Cheers the tar's labour or the Turkman's rest.
_The Island. Canto ii. Stanza 19._
    Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe
    When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe;
    Like other charmers, wooing the caress
    More dazzlingly when daring in full dress;
    Yet thy true lovers more admire by far
    Thy naked beauties--give me a cigar!
_The Island. Canto ii. Stanza 19._
    My days are in the yellow leaf;
      The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
    The worm, the canker, and the grief
      Are mine alone!
_On my Thirty-sixth Year._
    Brave men were living before Agamemnon.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 5._
    In virtues nothing earthly could surpass her,
    Save thine "incomparable oil," Macassar!
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 17._
    But, oh ye lords of ladies intellectual,
    Inform us truly,--have they not henpeck'd you all?
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 22._
    The languages, especially the dead,
      The sciences, and most of all the abstruse,
    The arts, at least all such as could be said
      To be the most remote from common use.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 40._
    Her stature tall,--I hate a dumpy woman.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 61._
    Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
    That all the Apostles would have done as they did.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 83._
    And whispering, "I will ne'er consent,"--consented.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 117._
    'T is sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark
      Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home;
    'T is sweet to know there is an eye will mark
      Our coming, and look brighter when we come.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 123._
    Sweet is revenge--especially to women.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 124._
    And truant husband should return, and say,
    "My dear, I was the first who came away."
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 141._
    Man's love is of man's life a thing apart;
    'T is woman's whole existence.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 194._
    In my hot youth, when George the Third was king.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 212._
    So for a good old-gentlemanly vice
    I think I must take up with avarice.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 216._
    What is the end of fame? 'T is but to fill
      A certain portion of uncertain paper.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 218._
    At leaving even the most unpleasant people
    And places, one keeps looking at the steeple.
_Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 14._
    There 's nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms
    As rum and true religion.
_Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 34._
    A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry
    Of some strong swimmer in his agony.
_Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 53._
                      All who joy would win
    Must share it, happiness was born a twin.
_Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 172._
    Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter,
    Sermons and soda-water the day after.
_Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 178._
    A long, long kiss,--a kiss of youth and love.
_Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 186._
    Alas, the love of women! it is known
      To be a lovely and a fearful thing.
_Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 199._
    In her first passion woman loves her lover:
      In all the others, all she loves is love.
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 3._
          He was the mildest manner'd man
    That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat.
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 41._
    The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
      Where burning Sappho loved and sung.
          .      .      .      .      .
    Eternal summer gilds them yet,
    But all except their sun is set.
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 1._
    The mountains look on Marathon,
      And Marathon looks on the sea;
    And musing there an hour alone,
      I dreamed that Greece might still be free.
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 3._
    Earth! render back from out thy breast
    A remnant of our Spartan dead!
    Of the three hundred grant but three
    To make a new Thermopylæ.
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 7._
    You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,
      Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
    Of two such lessons, why forget
      The nobler and the manlier one?
    You have the letters Cadmus gave,
    Think ye he meant them for a slave?
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 10._
    Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
      Where nothing save the waves and I
    May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
      There, swan-like, let me sing and die.
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 16._
    But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
      Falling like dew upon a thought, produces
    That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 88._
    Ah, surely nothing dies but something mourns.
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 108._
    And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
    'T is that I may not weep.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 4._
    The precious porcelain of human clay.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 11._
    "Whom the gods love die young," was said of yore.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 12._
                        Perhaps the early grave
    Which men weep over may be meant to save.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 12._
                           And her face so fair
    Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 29._
    These two hated with a hate
      Found only on the stage.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 93._
    "Arcades ambo,"--_id est_, blackguards both.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 93._
              I 've stood upon Achilles' tomb,
    And heard Troy doubted: time will doubt of Rome.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 101._
    Oh "darkly, deeply, beautifully blue!"
      As some one somewhere sings about the sky.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 110._
    There 's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in,
    Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.
_Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 5._
                          But all have prices,
    From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.
_Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 27._
    And puts himself upon his good behaviour.
_Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 47._
    That all-softening, overpowering knell,
    The tocsin of the soul,--the dinner bell.
_Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 49._
    The women pardon'd all except her face.
_Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 113._
    Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious,
    Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius.
_Don Juan. Canto vi. Stanza 7._
    A "strange coincidence," to use a phrase
    By which such things are settled nowadays.
_Don Juan. Canto vi. Stanza 78._
    The drying up a single tear has more
    Of honest fame than shedding seas of gore.
_Don Juan. Canto viii. Stanza 3._
    Thrice happy he whose name has been well spelt
    In the despatch: I knew a man whose loss
    Was printed _Grove_, although his name was Grose.
_Don Juan. Canto viii. Stanza 18._
    What a strange thing is man! and what a stranger
    Is woman!
_Don Juan. Canto ix. Stanza 64._
    And wrinkles, the damned democrats, won't flatter.
_Don Juan. Canto x. Stanza 24._
    Oh for a forty-parson power!
_Don Juan. Canto x. Stanza 34._
    When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter,"
      And proved it,--'t was no matter what he said.
_Don Juan. Canto xi. Stanza 1._
    And after all, what is a lie? 'T is but
      The truth in masquerade.
_Don Juan. Canto xi. Stanza 37._
    'T is strange the mind, that very fiery particle,
    Should let itself be snuff'd out by an article.
_Don Juan. Canto xi. Stanza 59._
    Of all tales 't is the saddest,--and more sad,
    Because it makes us smile.
_Don Juan. Canto xiii. stanza 9._
    Cervantes smil'd Spain's chivalry away.
_Don Juan. Canto xiii. Stanza 11._
    Society is now one polish'd horde,
    Formed of two mighty tribes, the _Bores_ and _Bored_.
_Don Juan. Canto xiii. Stanza 95._
                All human history attests
    That happiness for man,--the hungry sinner!
    Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner.
_Don Juan. Canto xiii. Stanza 99._
    'T is strange, but true; for truth is always strange,
    Stranger than fiction.
_Don Juan. Canto xiv. Stanza 101._
    The Devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice,
    An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
_Don Juan. Canto xv. Stanza 13._
    A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded,
    A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.
_Don Juan. Canto xv. Stanza 43._
    Friendship is Love without his wings.
_L'Amitié est l'Amour sans Ailes._
    I awoke one morning and found myself famous.
_Memoranda from his Life, by Moore, Chap. xiv._
    The best of prophets of the future is the past.
_Letter, Jan. 28, 1821._
    What say you to such a supper with such a woman?
_Note to a Letter on Bowles's Strictures._
WILLIAM KNOX. 1789-1825.
    Oh why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
    Like a fast-flitting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,
    A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
    He passes from life to his rest in the grave.
_Mortality._
ALFRED BUNN. 1790-1860.
    I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,
    With vassals and serfs at my side.
_Song._
    The light of other days[561-4] is faded,
    And all their glories past.
_Song._
    The heart bowed down by weight of woe
    To weakest hope will cling.
_Song._
FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. 1790-1867.
    Strike--for your altars and your fires!
    Strike--for the green graves of your sires!
      God, and your native land!
_Marco Bozzaris._
    Come to the bridal chamber, Death!
      Come to the mother's, when she feels
    For the first time her first-born's breath!
      Come when the blessed seals
    That close the pestilence are broke,
    And crowded cities wail its stroke!
    Come in consumption's ghastly form,
    The earthquake shock, the ocean storm!
    Come when the heart beats high and warm,
      With banquet song, and dance, and wine!
    And thou art terrible!--the tear,
    The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier,
    And all we know or dream or fear
      Of agony are thine.
_Marco Bozzaris._
    But to the hero, when his sword
      Has won the battle for the free,
    Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word;
    And in its hollow tones are heard
      The thanks of millions yet to be.
_Marco Bozzaris._
    One of the few, the immortal names,
      That were not born to die.
_Marco Bozzaris._
    Such graves as his are pilgrim shrines,
      Shrines to no code or creed confined,
    The Delphian vales, the Palestines,
      The Meccas of the mind.
_Burns._
    Green be the turf above thee,
      Friend of my better days!
    None knew thee but to love thee,
      Nor named thee but to praise.
_On the Death of Joseph Rodman Drake._
    There is an evening twilight of the heart,
    When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest.
_Twilight._
    They love their land because it is their own,
      And scorn to give aught other reason why;
    Would shake hands with a king upon his throne,
      And think it kindness to his Majesty.
_Connecticut._
    This bank-note world.
_Alnwick Castle._
    Lord Stafford mines for coal and salt,
    The Duke of Norfolk deals in malt,
      The Douglas in red herrings.
_Alnwick Castle._
CHARLES WOLFE. 1791-1823.
    Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
      As his corse to the rampart we hurried.
_The Burial of Sir John Moore._
    But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
      With his martial cloak around him.
_The Burial of Sir John Moore._
    Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
      From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
    We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,
      But we left him alone with his glory.
_The Burial of Sir John Moore._
    If I had thought thou couldst have died,
      I might not weep for thee;
    But I forgot, when by thy side,
      That thou couldst mortal be.
_To Mary._
    Yet there was round thee such a dawn
      Of light, ne'er seen before,
    As fancy never could have drawn,
      And never can restore.
_To Mary._
    Go, forget me! why should sorrow
      O'er that brow a shadow fling?
    Go, forget me, and to-morrow
      Brightly smile and sweetly sing!
    Smile,--though I shall not be near thee;
    Sing,--though I shall never hear thee!
_Go, forget me!_
HENRY HART MILMAN. 1791-1868.
    And the cold marble leapt to life a god.
_The Belvedere Apollo._
    Too fair to worship, too divine to love.
_The Belvedere Apollo._
CHARLES SPRAGUE. 1791-1875.
    Lo where the stage, the poor, degraded stage,
    Holds its warped mirror to a gaping age.
_Curiosity._
    Through life's dark road his sordid way he wends,
    An incarnation of fat dividends.
_Curiosity._
    Behold! in Liberty's unclouded blaze
    We lift our heads, a race of other days.
_Centennial Ode. Stanza 22._
    Yes, social friend, I love thee well,
      In learned doctors' spite;
    Thy clouds all other clouds dispel,
      And lap me in delight.
_To my Cigar._
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. 1792-1822.
                          Then black despair,
    The shadow of a starless night, was thrown
    Over the world in which I moved alone.
_The Revolt of Islam. Dedication. Stanza 6._
    With hue like that when some great painter dips
    His pencil in the gloom of earthquake and eclipse.
_The Revolt of Islam. Canto v. Stanza 23._
    The awful shadow of some unseen Power
    Floats, tho' unseen, amongst us.
_Hymn to Intellectual Beauty._
    The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame
    Over his living head like heaven is bent,
    An early but enduring monument,
    Came, veiling all the lightnings of his song
    In sorrow.
_Adonais. xxx._
    A pard-like spirit, beautiful and swift.
_Adonais. xxxii._
    Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,
    Stains the white radiance of eternity.
_Adonais. lii._
                               Oh thou,
    Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed
    The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low,
    Each like a corpse within its grave, until
    Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow
    Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth.
_Ode to the West Wind._
    Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams
      The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,
    Lull'd by the coil of his crystalline streams
      Beside a pumice isle in Baiæ's bay,
    And saw in sleep old palaces and towers
      Quivering within the wave's intenser day,
    All overgrown with azure moss and flowers
      So sweet, the sense faints picturing them.
_Ode to the West Wind._
    That orbed maiden with white fire laden,
      Whom mortals call the moon.
_The Cloud. iv._
          We look before and after,
            And pine for what is not;
          Our sincerest laughter
            With some pain is fraught;
    Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
_To a Skylark. Line 86._
    Kings are like stars,--they rise and set, they have
    The worship of the world, but no repose.
_Hellas. Line 195._
      The moon of Mahomet
      Arose, and it shall set;
    While, blazoned as on heaven's immortal noon,
      The cross leads generations on.
_Hellas. Line 221._
    The world's great age begins anew,
      The golden years return,
    The earth doth like a snake renew
      Her winter weeds outworn.
_Hellas. Line 1060._
    What! alive, and so bold, O earth?
_Written on hearing the News of the Death of Napoleon._
                          All love is sweet,
    Given or returned. Common as light is love,
    And its familiar voice wearies not ever.
         .     .     .     .     .     .
    They who inspire it most are fortunate,
    As I am now; but those who feel it most
    Are happier still.
_Prometheus Unbound. Act ii. Sc. 5._
    Those who inflict must suffer, for they see
    The work of their own hearts, and this must be
    Our chastisement or recompense.
_Julian and Maddalo. Line 482._
                        Most wretched men
    Are cradled into poetry by wrong:
    They learn in suffering what they teach in song.
_Julian and Maddalo. Line 544._
    I could lie down like a tired child,
    And weep away the life of care
    Which I have borne, and yet must bear.
_Stanzas written in Dejection, near Naples. Stanza 4._
    Peter was dull; he was at first
      Dull,--oh so dull, so very dull!
    Whether he talked, wrote, or rehearsed,
    Still with this dulness was he cursed!
      Dull,--beyond all conception, dull.
_Peter Bell the Third. Part vii. xi._
    A lovely lady, garmented in light
      From her own beauty.
_The Witch of Atlas. Stanza 5._
    Music, when soft voices die,
    Vibrates in the memory;
    Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
    Live within the sense they quicken.
_Music, when soft Voices die._
    I love tranquil solitude
      And such society
    As is quiet, wise, and good.
_Rarely, rarely comest Thou._
    Sing again, with your dear voice revealing
          A tone
      Of some world far from ours,
    Where music and moonlight and feeling
          Are one.
_To Jane. The keen Stars were twinkling._
    The desire of the moth for the star,
      Of the night for the morrow,
    The devotion to something afar
      From the sphere of our sorrow.
_One Word is too often profaned._
    You lie--under a mistake,
    For this is the most civil sort of lie
    That can be given to a man's face. I now
    Say what I think.
_Translation of Calderon's Magico Prodigioso. Scene i._
    How wonderful is Death!
    Death and his brother Sleep.
_Queen Mab. i._
    Power, like a desolating pestilence,
    Pollutes whate'er it touches; and obedience,
    Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth,
    Makes slaves of men, and of the human frame
    A mechanized automaton.
_Queen Mab. iii._
                   Heaven's ebon vault
    Studded with stars unutterably bright,
    Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls,
    Seems like a canopy which love has spread
    To curtain her sleeping world.
_Queen Mab. iv._
     Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the
     mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the
     present.
_A Defence of Poetry._
J. HOWARD PAYNE. 1792-1852.
    'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
    Be it ever so humble, there 's no place like home;
    A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,
    Which sought through the world is ne'er met with elsewhere.
    An exile from home splendour dazzles in vain,
    Oh give me my lowly thatched cottage again;
    The birds singing gayly, that came at my call,
    Give me them, and that peace of mind dearer than all.
_Home, Sweet Home._ (From the opera of "Clari, the Maid of Milan.")
SEBA SMITH. 1792-1868.
    The cold winds swept the mountain-height,
      And pathless was the dreary wild,
    And 'mid the cheerless hours of night
      A mother wandered with her child:
    As through the drifting snows she press'd,
    The babe was sleeping on her breast.
_The Snow Storm._
JOHN KEBLE. 1792-1866.
    The trivial round, the common task,
    Would furnish all we ought to ask.
_Morning._
    Why should we faint and fear to live alone,
      Since all alone, so Heaven has willed, we die?
    Nor even the tenderest heart, and next our own,
      Knows half the reasons why we smile and sigh.
_The Christian Year. Twenty-fourth Sunday after Trinity._
    'T is sweet, as year by year we lose
    Friends out of sight, in faith to muse
    How grows in Paradise our store.
_Burial of the Dead._
    Abide with me from morn till eve,
    For without Thee I cannot live;
    Abide with me when night is nigh,
    For without Thee I dare not die.
_Evening._
FELICIA D. HEMANS. 1794-1835.
    The stately homes of England,
      How beautiful they stand,
    Amid their tall ancestral trees,
      O'er all the pleasant land!
_The Homes of England._
    The breaking waves dashed high
      On a stern and rock-bound coast,
    And the woods against a stormy sky
      Their giant branches tossed.
_Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers._
    What sought they thus afar?
      Bright jewels of the mine,
    The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
      They sought a faith's pure shrine.
_Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers._
    Ay, call it holy ground,
      The soil where first they trod:
    They have left unstained what there they found,
      Freedom to worship God.
_Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers._
    Through the laburnum's dropping gold
    Rose the light shaft of Orient mould,
    And Europe's violets, faintly sweet,
    Purpled the mossbeds at its feet.
_The Palm-Tree._
    They grew in beauty side by side,
      They filled one home with glee:
    Their graves are severed far and wide
      By mount and stream and sea.
_The Graves of a Household._
    Alas for love, if thou wert all,
      And naught beyond, O Earth!
_The Graves of a Household._
    The boy stood on the burning deck,
      Whence all but him had fled;
    The flame that lit the battle's wreck
      Shone round him o'er the dead.
_Casabianca._
          Leaves have their time to fall,
    And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath,
          And stars to set; but all,
    Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
_The Hour of Death._
    Come to the sunset tree!
      The day is past and gone;
    The woodman's axe lies free,
      And the reaper's work is done.
_Tyrolese Evening Song._
    In the busy haunts of men.
_Tale of the Secret Tribunal. Part i._
    Calm on the bosom of thy God,
      Fair spirit, rest thee now!
_Siege of Valencia. Scene ix._
    Oh, call my brother back to me!
      I cannot play alone:
    The summer comes with flower and bee,
      Where is my brother gone?
_The Child's First Grief._
    I have looked on the hills of the stormy North,
    And the larch has hung his tassels forth.
_The Voice of Spring._
    I had a hat. It was not all a hat,
    Part of the brim was gone:
    Yet still I wore it on.
_Rhine Song of the German Soldiers after Victory._
EDWARD EVERETT. 1794-1865.
    When I am dead, no pageant train
      Shall waste their sorrows at my bier,
    Nor worthless pomp of homage vain
      Stain it with hypocritic tear.
_Alaric the Visigoth._
    You shall not pile, with servile toil,
      Your monuments upon my breast,
    Nor yet within the common soil
      Lay down the wreck of power to rest,
    Where man can boast that he has trod
    On him that was "the scourge of God."
_Alaric the Visigoth._
     No gilded dome swells from the lowly roof to catch the morning or
     evening beam; but the love and gratitude of united America settle
     upon it in one eternal sunshine. From beneath that humble roof
     went forth the intrepid and unselfish warrior, the magistrate who
     knew no glory but his country's good; to that he returned,
     happiest when his work was done. There he lived in noble
     simplicity, there he died in glory and peace. While it stands,
     the latest generations of the grateful children of America will
     make this pilgrimage to it as to a shrine; and when it shall
     fall, if fall it must, the memory and the name of Washington
     shall shed an eternal glory on the spot.
_Oration on the Character of Washington._
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 1794-1878.
    Here the free spirit of mankind, at length,
    Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place
    A limit to the giant's unchained strength,
    Or curb his swiftness in the forward race?
_The Ages. xxxiii._
    To him who in the love of Nature holds
    Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
    A various language.
_Thanatopsis._
    Go forth under the open sky, and list
    To Nature's teachings.
_Thanatopsis._
                            The hills,
    Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun.
_Thanatopsis._
    Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.
_Thanatopsis._
                            All that tread
    The globe are but a handful to the tribes
    That slumber in its bosom.
_Thanatopsis._
    So live, that when thy summons comes to join
    The innumerable caravan which moves
    To that mysterious realm where each shall take
    His chamber in the silent halls of death,
    Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
    Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed
    By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
    Like one that wraps the drapery of his couch
    About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
_Thanatopsis._
    The groves were God's first temples.
_A Forest Hymn._
    The stormy March has come at last,
      With winds and clouds and changing skies;
    I hear the rushing of the blast
      That through the snowy valley flies.
_March._
      But 'neath yon crimson tree
    Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame,
    Nor mark, within its roseate canopy,
      Her blush of maiden shame.
_Autumn Woods._
    The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
    Of wailing winds and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.
_The Death of the Flowers._
    And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
_The Death of the Flowers._
    Loveliest of lovely things are they
    On earth that soonest pass away.
    The rose that lives its little hour
    Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.
_A Scene on the Banks of the Hudson._
    The victory of endurance born.
_The Battle-Field._
    Truth crushed to earth shall rise again,
      The eternal years of God are hers;
    But Error, wounded, writhes with pain,
      And dies among his worshippers.
_The Battle-Field._
JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE. 1795-1820.
    When Freedom from her mountain-height
      Unfurled her standard to the air,
    She tore the azure robe of night,
      And set the stars of glory there.
    She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
    The milky baldric of the skies,
    And striped its pure, celestial white
    With streakings of the morning light.
    Flag of the free heart's hope and home!
      By angel hands to valour given!
    Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,
      And all thy hues were born in heaven.
    Forever float that standard sheet!
      Where breathes the foe but falls before us,
    With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,
      And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us?
_The American Flag._
JOHN KEATS. 1795-1821.
    A thing of beauty is a joy forever;
    Its loveliness increases; it will never
    Pass into nothingness.
_Endymion. Book i._
                     He ne'er is crown'd
    With immortality, who fears to follow
    Where airy voices lead.
_Endymion. Book ii._
        To sorrow
        I bade good-morrow,
    And thought to leave her far away behind;
        But cheerly, cheerly,
        She loves me dearly;
    She is so constant to me, and so kind.
_Endymion. Book iv._
    So many, and so many, and such glee.
_Endymion. Book iv._
    Love in a hut, with water and a crust,
    Is--Love, forgive us!--cinders, ashes, dust.
_Lamia. Part ii._
    There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:
    We know her woof, her texture; she is given
    In the dull catalogue of common things.
    Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
_Lamia. Part ii._
                        Music's golden tongue
    Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 3._
    The silver snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 4._
    Asleep in lap of legends old.
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 15._
    Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose,
    Flushing his brow.
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 16._
    A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, churchyard thing.
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 18._
    As though a rose should shut and be a bud again.
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 27._
    And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon.
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 30._
    He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute,
    In Provence call'd "La belle dame sans mercy."
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 33._
    That large utterance of the early gods!
_Hyperion. Book i._
    Those green-robed senators of mighty woods,
    Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars,
    Dream, and so dream all night without a stir.
_Hyperion. Book i._
    The days of peace and slumberous calm are fled.
_Hyperion. Book ii._
    Dance and Provençal song and sunburnt mirth!
    Oh for a beaker full of the warm South,
    Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene!
    With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
    And purple-stainèd mouth.
_Ode to a Nightingale._
    Through the sad heart of Ruth, when sick for home
    She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
      The same that ofttimes hath
    Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
    Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
_Ode to a Nightingale._
    Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
_Ode on a Grecian Urn._
    Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
      Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on,
    Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
      Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.
_Ode on a Grecian Urn._
    Thou, silent form, doth tease us out of thought
      As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
_Ode on a Grecian Urn._
    Beauty is truth, truth beauty,--that is all
      Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
_Ode on a Grecian Urn._
    In a drear-nighted December,
      Too happy, happy tree,
    Thy branches ne'er remember
      Their green felicity.
_Stanzas._
                Hear ye not the hum
    Of mighty workings?
_Addressed to Haydon. Sonnet x._
    Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
      And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
      Round many western islands have I been
    Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
    Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
      That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne,
      Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
    Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
    Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
      When a new planet swims into his ken;
    Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
      He stared at the Pacific, and all his men
    Look'd at each other with a wild surmise,
      Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
_On first looking into Chapman's Homer._
    E'en like the passage of an angel's tear
    That falls through the clear ether silently.
_To One who has been long in City pent._
    The poetry of earth is never dead.
_On the Grasshopper and Cricket._
    Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
THOMAS NOON TALFOURD. 1795-1854.
                       So his life has flowed
    From its mysterious urn a sacred stream,
    In whose calm depth the beautiful and pure
    Alone are mirrored; which, though shapes of ill
    May hover round its surface, glides in light,
    And takes no shadow from them.
_Ion. Act i. Sc. 1._
                       'T is a little thing
    To give a cup of water; yet its draught
    Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips,
    May give a shock of pleasure to the frame
    More exquisite than when nectarean juice
    Renews the life of joy in happiest hours.
_Ion. Act i. Sc. 2._
THOMAS CARLYLE. 1795-1881.
     Except by name, Jean Paul Friedrich Richter is little known out
     of Germany. The only thing connected with him, we think, that has
     reached this country is his saying,--imported by Madame de Staël,
     and thankfully pocketed by most newspaper critics,--"Providence
     has given to the French the empire of the land; to the English
     that of the sea; to the Germans that of--the air!"
_Richter. Edinburgh Review, 1827._
     Literary men are . . . a perpetual priesthood.
_State of German Literature. Edinburgh Review, 1827._
     Clever men are good, but they are not the best.
_Goethe. Edinburgh Review, 1828._
     We are firm believers in the maxim that for all right judgment of
     any man or thing it is useful, nay, essential, to see his good
     qualities before pronouncing on his bad.
_Goethe. Edinburgh Review, 1828._
     How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still
     more a man than they?
_Burns. Edinburgh Review, 1828._
     A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical
     impossibility.
_Burns. Edinburgh Review, 1828._
     His religion at best is an anxious wish,--like that of Rabelais,
     a great Perhaps.
_Burns. Edinburgh Review, 1828._
     We have oftener than once endeavoured to attach some meaning to
     that aphorism, vulgarly imputed to Shaftesbury, which however we
     can find nowhere in his works, that "ridicule is the test of
     truth."
_Voltaire. Foreign Review, 1829._
     We must repeat the often repeated saying, that it is unworthy a
     religious man to view an irreligious one either with alarm or
     aversion, or with any other feeling than regret and hope and
     brotherly commiseration.
_Voltaire. Foreign Review, 1829._
     There is no heroic poem in the world but is at bottom a
     biography, the life of a man; also it may be said, there is no
     life of a man, faithfully recorded, but is a heroic poem of its
     sort, rhymed or unrhymed.
_Sir Walter Scott. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
     Silence is deep as Eternity, speech is shallow as Time.
_Sir Walter Scott. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
     To the very last, he [Napoleon] had a kind of idea; that, namely,
     of _la carrière ouverte aux talents_,--the tools to him that can
     handle them.
_Sir Walter Scott. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
     Blessed is the healthy nature; it is the coherent, sweetly
     co-operative, not incoherent, self-distracting, self-destructive
     one!
_Sir Walter Scott. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
     The uttered part of a man's life, let us always repeat, bears to
     the unuttered, unconscious part a small unknown proportion. He
     himself never knows it, much less do others.
_Sir Walter Scott. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
     Literature is the Thought of thinking Souls.
_Sir Walter Scott. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
     It can be said of him, when he departed he took a Man's life with
     him. No sounder piece of British manhood was put together in that
     eighteenth century of Time.
_Sir Walter Scott. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
     The eye of the intellect "sees in all objects what it brought
     with it the means of seeing."
_Varnhagen Von Ense's Memoirs. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
     Happy the people whose annals are blank in history-books.
_Life of Frederick the Great. Book xvi. Chap. i._
     As the Swiss inscription says: _Sprechen ist silbern, Schweigen
     ist golden_,--"Speech is silvern, Silence is golden;" or, as I
     might rather express it, Speech is of Time, Silence is of
     Eternity.
_Sartor Resartus. Book iii. Chap. iii._
     The greatest of faults, I should say, is to be conscious of
     none.
_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Prophet._
     In books lies the soul of the whole Past Time: the articulate
     audible voice of the Past, when the body and material substance
     of it has altogether vanished like a dream.
_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Man of Letters._
     The true University of these days is a Collection of Books.
_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Man of Letters._
     One life,--a little gleam of time between two Eternities.
_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Man of Letters._
     Adversity is sometimes hard upon a man; but for one man who can
     stand prosperity there are a hundred that will stand adversity.
_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Man of Letters._
THOMAS C. HALIBURTON. 1796-1865.
     I want you to see Peel, Stanley, Graham, Sheil, Russell,
     Macaulay, Old Joe, and so on. They are all upper-crust
     here.
_Sam Slick In England._[580-2] _Chap. xxiv._
     Circumstances alter cases.
_The Old Judge. Chap. xv._
WILLIAM MOTHERWELL. 1797-1835.
    I 've wandered east, I 've wandered west,
      Through many a weary way;
    But never, never can forget
      The love of life's young day.
_Jeannie Morrison._
    And we, with Nature's heart in tune,
      Concerted harmonies.
_Jeannie Morrison._
THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY. 1797-1839.
    I 'd be a butterfly born in a bower,
      Where roses and lilies and violets meet.
_I 'd be a Butterfly._
    Oh no! we never mention her,
      Her name is never heard;
    My lips are now forbid to speak
      That once familiar word.
_Oh no! we never mention her._
    We met,--'t was in a crowd.
_We met._
    Gayly the troubadour
      Touched his guitar.
_Welcome me Home._
    Why don't the men propose, Mamma?
      Why don't the men propose?
_Why don't the Men propose?_
    She wore a wreath of roses
      The night that first we met.
_She wore a Wreath._
    Friends depart, and memory takes them
      To her caverns, pure and deep.
_Teach me to forget._
    Tell me the tales that to me were so dear,
      Long, long ago, long, long ago.
_Long, long ago._
    The rose that all are praising
      Is not the rose for me.
_The Rose that all are praising._
    Oh pilot, 't is a fearful night!
      There 's danger on the deep.
_The Pilot._
    Fear not, but trust in Providence,
      Wherever thou may'st be.
_The Pilot._
    Absence makes the heart grow fonder:
      Isle of Beauty, fare thee well!
_Isle of Beauty._
    The mistletoe hung in the castle hall,
    The holly-branch shone on the old oak wall.
_The Mistletoe Bough._
    Oh, I have roamed o'er many lands,
      And many friends I 've met;
    Not one fair scene or kindly smile
      Can this fond heart forget.
_Oh, steer my Bark to Erin's Isle._
THOMAS DRUMMOND.[582-1] 1797-1840.
     Property has its duties as well as its rights.
_Letter to the Landlords of Tipperary._
McDONALD CLARKE. 1798-1842.
    Whilst twilight's curtain spreading far,
    Was pinned with a single star.
_Death in Disguise. Line 227._ (Boston edition, 1833.)
SAMUEL LOVER. 1797-1868.
    A baby was sleeping,
    Its mother was weeping.
_The Angel's Whisper._
    Reproof on her lips, but a smile in her eye.
_Rory O'More._
    For drames always go by _conthraries_, my dear.
_Rory O'More._
    "Then here goes another," says he, "to make sure,
    For there 's luck in odd numbers,"[583-1] says Rory O'More.
_Rory O'More._
    There was a place in childhood that I remember well,
    And there a voice of sweetest tone bright fairy tales did tell.
_My Mother dear._
    Sure the shovel and tongs
    To each other belongs.
_Widow Machree._
THOMAS HOOD. 1798-1845.
    There is a silence where hath been no sound,
    There is a silence where no sound may be,
    In the cold grave, under the deep, deep sea,
    Or in the wide desert where no life is found.
_Sonnet. Silence._
    We watch'd her breathing through the night,
      Her breathing soft and low,
    As in her breast the wave of life
      Kept heaving to and fro.
_The Death-Bed._
    Our very hopes belied our fears,
      Our fears our hopes belied;
    We thought her dying when she slept,
      And sleeping when she died.
_The Death-Bed._
    I remember, I remember
    The fir-trees dark and high;
    I used to think their slender tops
    Were close against the sky;
    It was a childish ignorance,
    But now 't is little joy
    To know I 'm farther off from heaven
    Than when I was a boy.
_I remember, I remember._
    She stood breast-high amid the corn
    Clasp'd by the golden light of morn,
    Like the sweetheart of the sun,
    Who many a glowing kiss had won.
_Ruth._
    Thus she stood amid the stooks,
    Praising God with sweetest looks.
_Ruth._
        When he is forsaken,
        Wither'd and shaken,
    What can an old man do but die?
_Spring it is cheery._
    And there is even a happiness
    That makes the heart afraid.
_Ode to Melancholy._
    There 's not a string attuned to mirth
    But has its chord in melancholy.
_Ode to Melancholy._
    But evil is wrought by want of thought,
    As well as want of heart.
_The Lady's Dream._
    Oh would I were dead now,
    Or up in my bed now,
    To cover my head now,
      And have a good cry!
_A Table of Errata._
    Straight down the crooked lane,
    And all round the square.
_A Plain Direction._
    For my part, getting up seems not so easy
          By half as _lying_.
_Morning Meditations._
    A man that 's fond precociously of _stirring_
          Must be a spoon.
_Morning Meditations._
    Seem'd washing his hands with invisible soap
      In imperceptible water.
_Miss Kilmansegg. Her Christening._
    O bed! O bed! delicious bed!
    That heaven upon earth to the weary head!
_Her Dream._
    He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way,
      Tormenting himself with his prickles.
_Her Dream._
    Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
    Bright and yellow, hard and cold.
_Her Moral._
    Spurn'd by the young, but hugg'd by the old
    To the very verge of the churchyard mould.
_Her Moral._
      How widely its agencies vary,
    To save, to ruin, to curse, to bless,
    As even its minted coins express,
    Now stamp'd with the image of Good Queen Bess,
      And now of a Bloody Mary.
_Her Moral._
    Another tumble! That 's his precious nose!
_Parental Ode to my Infant Son._
    Boughs are daily rifled
      By the gusty thieves,
    And the book of Nature
      Getteth short of leaves.
_The Season._
    With fingers weary and worn,
      With eyelids heavy and red,
    A woman sat in unwomanly rags
      Plying her needle and thread,
        Stitch! Stitch! Stitch!
_The Song of the Shirt._
    O men with sisters dear,
      O men with mothers and wives,
    It is not linen you 're wearing out,
      But human creatures' lives!
_The Song of the Shirt._
    Sewing at once a double thread,
      A shroud as well as a shirt.
_The Song of the Shirt._
    O God! that bread should be so dear,
    And flesh and blood so cheap!
_The Song of the Shirt._
    No blessed leisure for love or hope,
      But only time for grief.
_The Song of the Shirt._
    My tears must stop, for every drop
      Hinders needle and thread.
_The Song of the Shirt._
    One more unfortunate
      Weary of breath,
    Rashly importunate,
      Gone to her death.
_The Bridge of Sighs._
    Take her up tenderly,
      Lift her with care;
    Fashioned so slenderly,
      Young, and so fair!
_The Bridge of Sighs._
    Alas for the rarity
    Of Christian charity
      Under the sun!
_The Bridge of Sighs._
    Even God's providence
      Seeming estrang'd.
_The Bridge of Sighs._
    No sun, no moon, no morn, no noon,
    No dawn, no dusk, no proper time of day,
         .     .     .     .     .     .
    No road, no street, no t' other side the way,
         .     .     .     .     .     .
    No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
    No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no buds.
_November._
    No solemn sanctimonious face I pull,
      Nor think I 'm pious when I 'm only bilious;
      Nor study in my sanctum supercilious,
    To frame a Sabbath Bill or forge a Bull.
_Ode to Rae Wilson._
    The Quaker loves an ample brim,
      A hat that bows to no salaam;
    And dear the beaver is to him
      As if it never made a dam.
_All round my Hat._
GEORGE LINLEY. 1798-1865.
    Ever of thee I 'm fondly dreaming,
    Thy gentle voice my spirit can cheer.
_Ever of Thee._
    Thou art gone from my gaze like a beautiful dream,
    And I seek thee in vain by the meadow and stream.
_Thou art gone._
    Tho' lost to sight, to mem'ry dear
      Thou ever wilt remain;
    One only hope my heart can cheer,
      The hope to meet again.
    Oh fondly on the past I dwell,
      And oft recall those hours
    When, wand'ring down the shady dell,
      We gathered the wild-flowers.
    Yes, life then seem'd one pure delight,
      Tho' now each spot looks drear;
    Yet tho' thy smile be lost to sight,
      To mem'ry thou art dear.
    Oft in the tranquil hour of night,
      When stars illume the sky,
    I gaze upon each orb of light,
      And wish that thou wert by.
    I think upon that happy time,
      That time so fondly lov'd,
    When last we heard the sweet bells chime,
      As thro' the fields we rov'd.
    Yes, life then seem'd one pure delight,
      Tho' now each spot looks drear;
    Yet tho' thy smile be lost to sight,
      To mem'ry thou art dear.
_Song._
COLONEL BLACKER.
     Put your trust in God, my boys, and keep your powder dry.
_Oliver's Advice. 1834._
ROBERT POLLOK. 1799-1827.
    Sorrows remember'd sweeten present joy.
_The Course of Time. Book i. Line 464._
    He laid his hand upon "the Ocean's mane,"
    And played familiar with his hoary locks.
_The Course of Time. Book iv. Line 389._
                          He was a man
    Who stole the livery of the court of Heaven
    To serve the Devil in.
_The Course of Time. Book viii. Line 616._
                  With one hand he put
    A penny in the urn of poverty,
    And with the other took a shilling out.
_The Course of Time. Book viii. Line 632._
RUFUS CHOATE. 1799-1859.
     There was a state without king or nobles; there was a church
     without a bishop;[588-3] there was a people governed by grave
     magistrates which it had selected, and by equal laws which it had
     framed.
_Speech before the New England Society, Dec. 22, 1843._
     We join ourselves to no party that does not carry the flag and
     keep step to the music of the Union.
_Letter to the Whig Convention, 1855._
     Its constitution the glittering and sounding generalities
     of natural right which make up the Declaration of Independence.
_Letter to the Maine Whig Committee, 1856._
THOMAS K. HERVEY. 1799-1859.
    The tomb of him who would have made
      The world too glad and free.
_The Devil's Progress._
    He stood beside a cottage lone
      And listened to a lute,
    One summer's eve, when the breeze was gone,
      And the nightingale was mute.
_The Devil's Progress._
    A love that took an early root,
      And had an early doom.
_The Devil's Progress._
    Like ships, that sailed for sunny isles,
      But never came to shore.
_The Devil's Progress._
    A Hebrew knelt in the dying light,
      His eye was dim and cold,
    The hairs on his brow were silver-white,
      And his blood was thin and old.
_The Devil's Progress._
THOMAS B. MACAULAY. 1800-1859.
(_From his Essays._)
     That is the best government which desires to make the people
     happy, and knows how to make them happy.
_On Mitford's History of Greece. 1824._
     Free trade, one of the greatest blessings which a government can
     confer on a people, is in almost every country unpopular.
_On Mitford's History of Greece. 1824._
     The history of nations, in the sense in which I use the word, is
     often best studied in works not professedly historical.
_On Mitford's History of Greece. 1824._
     Wherever literature consoles sorrow or assuages pain; wherever it
     brings gladness to eyes which fail with wakefulness and tears,
     and ache for the dark house and the long sleep,--there is
     exhibited in its noblest form the immortal influence of Athens.
_On Mitford's History of Greece. 1824._
     We hold that the most wonderful and splendid proof of genius is a
     great poem produced in a civilized age.
_On Milton. 1825._
     Nobles by the right of an earlier creation, and priests by the
     imposition of a mightier hand.
_On Milton. 1825._
     Out of his surname they have coined an epithet for a knave, and
     out of his Christian name a synonym for the Devil.
_On Machiavelli. 1825._
     The English Bible,--a book which if everything else in our
     language should perish, would alone suffice to show the whole
     extent of its beauty and power.
_On John Dryden. 1828._
     His imagination resembled the wings of an ostrich. It enabled him
     to run, though not to soar.
_On John Dryden. 1828._
     A man possessed of splendid talents, which he often abused, and
     of a sound judgment, the admonitions of which he often neglected;
     a man who succeeded only in an inferior department of his art,
     but who in that department succeeded pre-eminently.
_On John Dryden. 1828._
     He had a head which statuaries loved to copy, and a foot the
     deformity of which the beggars in the streets mimicked.
_On Moore's Life of Lord Byron. 1830._
     We know no spectacle so ridiculous as the British public in one
     of its periodical fits of morality.
_On Moore's Life of Lord Byron. 1830._
     From the poetry of Lord Byron they drew a system of ethics
     compounded of misanthropy and voluptuousness,--a system in which
     the two great commandments were to hate your neighbour and to
     love your neighbour's wife.
_On Moore's Life of Lord Byron. 1830._
     That wonderful book, while it obtains admiration from the most
     fastidious critics, is loved by those who are too simple to
     admire it.
_On Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. 1831._
     The conformation of his mind was such that whatever was little
     seemed to him great, and whatever was great seemed to him little.
_On Horace Walpole. 1833._
     What a singular destiny has been that of this remarkable man!--To
     be regarded in his own age as a classic, and in ours as a
     companion! To receive from his contemporaries that full homage
     which men of genius have in general received only from posterity;
     to be more intimately known to posterity than other men are known
     to their contemporaries!
_On Boswell's Life of Johnson_ (Croker's ed.). _1831._
     Temple was a man of the world amongst men of letters, a man of
     letters amongst men of the world.
_On Sir William Temple. 1838._
     She [the Roman Catholic Church] may still exist in undiminished
     vigour when some traveller from New Zealand shall, in the midst
     of a vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch of London
     Bridge to sketch the ruins of St. Paul's.
_On Ranke's History of the Popes. 1840._
     The chief-justice was rich, quiet, and infamous.
_On Warren Hastings. 1841._
     In that temple of silence and reconciliation where the enmities
     of twenty generations lie buried, in the great Abbey which has
     during many ages afforded a quiet resting-place to those whose
     minds and bodies have been shattered by the contentions of the
     Great Hall.
_On Warren Hastings. 1841._
     In order that he might rob a neighbour whom he had promised to
     defend, black men fought on the coast of Coromandel and red men
     scalped each other by the great lakes of North America.
_On Frederic the Great. 1842._
     We hardly know an instance of the strength and weakness of human
     nature so striking and so grotesque as the character of this
     haughty, vigilant, resolute, sagacious blue-stocking, half
     Mithridates and half Trissotin, bearing up against a world in
     arms, with an ounce of poison in one pocket and a quire of bad
     verses in the other.
_On Frederic the Great. 1842._
     I shall cheerfully bear the reproach of having descended below
     the dignity of history.
_History of England. Vol. i. Chap. i._
     There were gentlemen and there were seamen in the navy of Charles
     II. But the seamen were not gentlemen, and the gentlemen were not
     seamen.
_History of England. Vol. i. Chap. ii._
     The Puritan hated bear-baiting, not because it gave pain to the
     bear, but because it gave pleasure to the spectators.
_History of England. Vol. i. Chap. iii._
     I have not the Chancellor's encyclopedic mind. He is indeed a
     kind of semi-Solomon. He _half_ knows everything, from the cedar
     to the hyssop.
_Letter to Macvey Napier, Dec. 17, 1830._
    To every man upon this earth
      Death cometh soon or late;
    And how can man die better
      Than facing fearful odds
    For the ashes of his fathers
      And the temples of his gods?
_Lays of Ancient Rome. Horatius, xxvii._
    How well Horatius kept the bridge
      In the brave days of old.
_Lays of Ancient Rome. Horatius, lxx._
    These be the great Twin Brethren
      To whom the Dorians pray.
_The Battle of Lake Regillus._
    The sweeter sound of woman's praise.
_Lines written in August, 1847._
    Ye diners-out from whom we guard our spoons.
_Political Georgics._
J. A. WADE. 1800-1875.
    Meet me by moonlight alone,
      And then I will tell you a tale
    Must be told by the moonlight alone,
      In the grove at the end of the vale!
_Meet me by Moonlight._
    'T were vain to tell thee all I feel,
      Or say for thee I 'd die.
_'T were vain to tell._
SIR HENRY TAYLOR. 1800-18--.
    The world knows nothing of its greatest men.
_Philip Van Artevelde. Part i. Act i. Sc. 5._
    An unreflected light did never yet
    Dazzle the vision feminine.
_Philip Van Artevelde. Part i. Act i. Sc. 5._
    He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend.
    Eternity mourns that. 'T is an ill cure
    For life's worst ills, to have no time to feel them.
    Where sorrow 's held intrusive and turned out,
    There wisdom will not enter, nor true power,
    Nor aught that dignifies humanity.
_Philip Van Artevelde. Part i. Act i. Sc. 5._
                     We figure to ourselves
    The thing we like; and then we build it up,
    As chance will have it, on the rock or sand,
    For thought is tired of wandering o'er the world,
    And homebound Fancy runs her bark ashore.
_Philip Van Artevelde. Part i. Act i. Sc. 5._
                           Such souls,
    Whose sudden visitations daze the world,
    Vanish like lightning, but they leave behind
    A voice that in the distance far away
    Wakens the slumbering ages.
_Philip Van Artevelde. Part i. Act i. Sc. 7._
WILLIAM H. SEWARD. 1801-1872.
     There is a higher law than the Constitution.
_Speech, March 11, 1850._
     It is an irrepressible conflict between opposing and enduring
     forces.
_Speech, Oct. 25, 1858._
W. M. PRAED. 1802-1839.
    Twelve years ago I was a boy,
      A happy boy at Drury's.
_School and Schoolfellows._
    Some lie beneath the churchyard stone,
      And some before the speaker.
_School and Schoolfellows._
    I remember, I remember
      How my childhood fleeted by,
    The mirth of its December
      And the warmth of its July.
_I remember, I remember._
GEORGE P. MORRIS. 1802-1864.
    Woodman, spare that tree!
      Touch not a single bough!
    In youth it sheltered me,
      And I 'll protect it now.
_Woodman, spare that Tree! 1830._
    A song for our banner! The watchword recall
      Which gave the Republic her station:
    "United we stand, divided we fall!"
      It made and preserves us a nation!
    The union of lakes, the union of lands,
      The union of States none can sever,
    The union of hearts, the union of hands,
      And the flag of our Union forever!
_The Flag of our Union._
    Near the lake where drooped the willow,
        Long time ago!
_Near the Lake._
ALBERT G. GREENE. 1802-1868.
    Old Grimes is dead, that good old man
      We never shall see more;
    He used to wear a long black coat
      All buttoned down before.
_Old Grimes._
LYDIA MARIA CHILD. 1802-1880.
     England may as well dam up the waters of the Nile with bulrushes
     as to fetter the step of Freedom, more proud and firm in this
     youthful land than where she treads the sequestered glens of
     Scotland, or couches herself among the magnificent mountains of
     Switzerland.
_Supposititious Speech of James Otis. The Rebels, Chap. iv._
DOUGLAS JERROLD. 1803-1857.
     He is one of those wise philanthropists who in a time of famine
     would vote for nothing but a supply of toothpicks.
_Douglas Jerrold's Wit._
     The surest way to hit a woman's heart is to take aim kneeling.
_Douglas Jerrold's Wit._
     The nobleman of the garden.
_The Pineapple._
     That fellow would vulgarize the day of judgment.
_A Comic Author._
     The best thing I know between France and England is the sea.
_The Anglo-French Alliance._
     The life of the husbandman,--a life fed by the bounty of earth
     and sweetened by the airs of heaven.
_The Husbandman's Life._
     Some people are so fond of ill-luck that they run half-way to
     meet it.
_Meeting Troubles Half-way._
     Earth is here so kind, that just tickle her with a hoe and she
     laughs with a harvest.
_A Land of Plenty_ [_Australia_].
     The ugliest of trades have their moments of pleasure. Now, if I
     were a grave-digger, or even a hangman, there are some people I
     could work for with a great deal of enjoyment.
_Ugly Trades._
     A blessed companion is a book,--a book that fitly chosen is a
     life-long friend.
_Books._
     There is something about a wedding-gown prettier than in any
     other gown in the world.
_A Wedding-gown._
     He was so good he would pour rose-water on a toad.
_A Charitable Man._
     As for the brandy, "nothing extenuate;" and the water, put nought
     in in malice.
_Shakespeare Grog._
     Talk to him of Jacob's ladder, and he would ask the number of the
     steps.
_A Matter-of-fact Man._
RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 1803-1882.
    Nor knowest thou what argument
    Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent.
    All are needed by each one;
    Nothing is fair or good alone.
_Each and All._
    I wiped away the weeds and foam,
    I fetched my sea-born treasures home;
    But the poor, unsightly, noisome things
    Had left their beauty on the shore,
    With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.
_Each and All._
    Not from a vain or shallow thought
    His awful Jove young Phidias brought.
_The Problem._
    Out from the heart of Nature rolled
    The burdens of the Bible old.
_The Problem._
    The hand that rounded Peter's dome,
    And groined the aisles of Christian Rome,
    Wrought in a sad sincerity;
    Himself from God he could not free;
    He builded better than he knew:
    The conscious stone to beauty grew.
_The Problem._
    Earth proudly wears the Parthenon
    As the best gem upon her zone.
_The Problem._
    Earth laughs in flowers to see her boastful boys
    Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs;
    Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet
    Clear of the grave.
_Hamatreya._
    Good bye, proud world! I 'm going home;
    Thou art not my friend, and I 'm not thine.
_Good Bye._
    For what are they all in their high conceit,
    When man in the bush with God may meet?
_Good Bye._
                If eyes were made for seeing,
    Then Beauty is its own excuse for being.
_The Rhodora._
    Things are in the saddle,
      And ride mankind.
_Ode, inscribed to W. H. Channing._
    Olympian bards who sung
      Divine ideas below,
    Which always find us young
      And always keep us so.
_Ode to Beauty._
    Heartily know,
    When half-gods go,
    The gods arrive.
_Give all to Love._
    Love not the flower they pluck and know it not,
    And all their botany is Latin names.
_Blight._
    The silent organ loudest chants
      The master's requiem.
_Dirge._
    By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
      Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
    Here once the embattl'd farmers stood,
      And fired the shot heard round the world.
_Hymn sung at the Completion of the Battle Monument._
    What potent blood hath modest May!
_May-Day._
    And striving to be man, the worm
      Mounts through all the spires of form.
_May-Day._
    And every man, in love or pride,
    Of his fate is never wide.
_Nemesis._
    None shall rule but the humble,
      And none but Toil shall have.
_Boston Hymn. 1863._
    Oh, tenderly the haughty day
      Fills his blue urn with fire.
_Ode, Concord, July 4, 1857._
    Go put your creed into your deed,
      Nor speak with double tongue.
_Ode, Concord, July 4, 1857._
    So nigh is grandeur to our dust,
      So near is God to man,
    When Duty whispers low, Thou must,
      The youth replies, I can!
_Voluntaries._
    Whoever fights, whoever falls,
      Justice conquers evermore.
_Voluntaries._
    Nor sequent centuries could hit
    Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.
_Solution._
    Born for success he seemed,
    With grace to win, with heart to hold,
    With shining gifts that took all eyes.
_In Memoriam._
    Nor mourn the unalterable Days
    That Genius goes and Folly stays.
_In Memoriam._
    Fear not, then, thou child infirm;
    There 's no god dare wrong a worm.
_Compensation._
    He thought it happier to be dead,
    To die for Beauty, than live for bread.
_Beauty._
    Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill?
    Pay every debt, as if God wrote the bill?
_Suum Cuique._
    Too busy with the crowded hour to fear to live or die.
_Quatrains. Nature._
    Though love repine, and reason chafe,
      There came a voice without reply,
    "'T is man's perdition to be safe
      When for the truth he ought to die."
_Sacrifice._
    For what avail the plough or sail,
    Or land or life, if freedom fail?
_Boston._
     If the single man plant himself indomitably on his instincts, and
     there abide, the huge world will come round to him.
_Nature. Addresses and Lectures. The American Scholar._
    There is no great and no small
      To the Soul that maketh all;
    And where it cometh, all things are;
      And it cometh everywhere.
_Essays. First Series. Epigraph to History._
     Time dissipates to shining ether the solid angularity of facts.
_Essays. First Series. History._
     Nature is a mutable cloud which is always and never the same.
_Essays. First Series. History._
     A man is a bundle of relations, a knot of roots, whose flower and
     fruitage is the world.
_Essays. First Series. History._
     The virtue in most request is conformity. Self-reliance is its
     aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and
     customs.
_Essays. First Series. Self-Reliance._
     A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by
     little statesmen and philosophers and divines.
_Essays. First Series. Self-Reliance._
     To be great is to be misunderstood.
_Essays. First Series. Self-Reliance._
     Discontent is the want of self-reliance: it is infirmity of will.
_Essays. First Series. Self-Reliance._
     Everything in Nature contains all the powers of Nature.
     Everything is made of one hidden stuff.
_Essays. First Series. Compensation._
     It is as impossible for a man to be cheated by any one but
     himself, as for a thing to be and not to be at the same time.
_Essays. First Series. Compensation._
     Proverbs, like the sacred books of each nation, are the sanctuary
     of the intuitions.
_Essays. First Series. Compensation._
     Every action is measured by the depth of the sentiment from which
     it proceeds.
_Essays. First Series. Spiritual Laws._
     All mankind love a lover.
_Essays. First Series. Love._
    A ruddy drop of manly blood
      The surging sea outweighs;
    The world uncertain comes and goes,
      The lover rooted stays.
_Essays. First Series. Epigraph to Friendship._
     A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of Nature.
_Essays. First Series. Friendship._
     Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm.
_Essays. First Series. Circles._
     There is nothing settled in manners, but the laws of behaviour
     yield to the energy of the individual.
_Essays. Second Series. Manners._
     And with Cæsar to take in his hand the army, the empire, and
     Cleopatra, and say, "All these will I relinquish if you will show
     me the fountain of the Nile."
_New England Reformers._
     He is great who is what he is from Nature, and who never reminds
     us of others.
_Representative Men. Uses of Great Men._
     Is not marriage an open question, when it is alleged, from the
     beginning of the world, that such as are in the institution wish
     to get out, and such as are out wish to get in?
_Representative Men. Montaigne._
     Thought is the property of him who can entertain it, and of him
     who can adequately place it.
_Representative Men. Shakespeare._
     The hearing ear is always found close to the speaking tongue.
_English Traits. Race._
     I find the Englishman to be him of all men who stands firmest in
     his shoes.
_English Traits. Manners._
     A creative economy is the fuel of magnificence.
_English Traits. Aristocracy._
     The manly part is to do with might and main what you can do.
_The Conduct of Life. Wealth._
     The alleged power to charm down insanity, or ferocity in beasts,
     is a power behind the eye.
_The Conduct of Life. Behaviour._
     Fine manners need the support of fine manners in others.
_The Conduct of Life. Behaviour._
     Good is a good doctor, but Bad is sometimes a better.
_The Conduct of Life. Considerations by the Way._
     God may forgive sins, he said, but awkwardness has no forgiveness
     in heaven or earth.
_The Conduct of Life. Society and Solitude._
     Hitch your wagon to a star.
_The Conduct of Life. Civilization._
     I rarely read any Latin, Greek, German, Italian, sometimes not a
     French book, in the original, which I can procure in a good
     version. I like to be beholden to the great metropolitan English
     speech, the sea which receives tributaries from every region
     under heaven. I should as soon think of swimming across Charles
     River when I wish to go to Boston, as of reading all my books in
     originals when I have them rendered for me in my mother tongue.
_The Conduct of Life. Books._
     We do not count a man's years until he has nothing else to count.
_The Conduct of Life. Old Age._
     Life is not so short but that there is always time enough for
     courtesy.
_Letters and Social Aims. Social Aims._
     By necessity, by proclivity, and by delight, we all quote.
_Letters and Social Aims. Quotation and Originality._
     Next to the originator of a good sentence is the first quoter of
     it.
_Letters and Social Aims. Quotation and Originality._
     When Shakespeare is charged with debts to his authors, Landor
     replies, "Yet he was more original than his originals. He
     breathed upon dead bodies and brought them into life."
_Letters and Social Aims. Quotation and Originality._
     In fact, it is as difficult to appropriate the thoughts of others
     as it is to invent.
_Letters and Social Aims. Quotation and Originality._
     The passages of Shakespeare that we most prize were never quoted
     until within this century.
_Letters and Social Aims. Quotation and Originality._
     Great men are they who see that spiritual is stronger than any
     material force; that thoughts rule the world.
_Progress of Culture. Phi Beta Kappa Address, July 18, 1867._
     I do not find that the age or country makes the least difference;
     no, nor the language the actors spoke, nor the religion which
     they professed, whether Arab in the desert or Frenchman in the
     Academy. I see that sensible men and conscientious men all over
     the world were of one religion.
_Lectures and Biographical Sketches. The Preacher._
RICHARD HENGEST HORNE. 1803- ----.
    'T is always morning somewhere in the world.
_Orion. Book iii. Canto ii._ (1843.)
WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 1804-1879.
     My country is the world; my countrymen are mankind.
_Prospectus of the Public Liberator, 1830._
     I am in earnest. I will not equivocate; I will not excuse; I will
     not retreat a single inch; and I will be heard!
_Salutatory of the Liberator, Jan. 1, 1831._
     Our country is the world; our countrymen are mankind.
_Motto of the Liberator, Vol. i. No. 1, 1831._
     I will be as harsh as truth and as uncompromising as justice.
_The Liberator, Vol. i. No. 1, 1831._
     Our country is the world; our countrymen are all mankind.
_Prospectus of the Liberator, Dec. 15, 1837._
     The compact which exists between the North and the South is a
     covenant with death and an agreement with hell.
_Resolution adopted by the Antislavery Society, Jan. 27, 1843._
MARY HOWITT. 1804-1888.
    Old England is our home, and Englishmen are we;
    Our tongue is known in every clime, our flag in every sea.
_Old England is our Home._
    "Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly;
    "'T is the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy."
_The Spider and the Fly._
SARAH FLOWER ADAMS. 1805-1848.
    Nearer, my God, to Thee!
      Nearer to Thee!
    E'en though it be a cross
      That raiseth me,
    Still all my song shall be,
    Nearer, my God, to Thee!
      Nearer to Thee!
EDWARD BULWER LYTTON. 1805-1873.
                 Curse away!
    And let me tell thee, Beausant, a wise proverb
    The Arabs have,--"Curses are like young chickens,
    And still come home to roost."
_The Lady of Lyons. Act v. Sc. 2._
    Beneath the rule of men entirely great,
    The pen is mightier than the sword.
_Richelieu. Act ii. Sc. 2._
                  Take away the sword;
    States can be saved without it.
_Richelieu. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves
    For a bright manhood, there is no such word
    As "fail."
_Richelieu. Act ii. Sc. 2._
    The brilliant chief, irregularly great,
    Frank, haughty, rash,--the Rupert of debate!
_The New Timon._ (_1846._) _Part i._
           _Alone!_--that worn-out word,
    So idly spoken, and so coldly heard;
    Yet all that poets sing and grief hath known
    Of hopes laid waste, knells in that word ALONE!
_The New Timon._ (_1846._) _Part ii._
    When stars are in the quiet skies,
      Then most I pine for thee;
    Bend on me then thy tender eyes,
      As stars look on the sea.
_When Stars are in the quiet Skies._
    Buy my flowers,--oh buy, I pray!
      The blind girl comes from afar.
_Buy my Flowers._
     The man who smokes, thinks like a sage and acts like a Samaritan.
_Night and Morning. Chap. vi._
BENJAMIN DISRAELI (EARL BEACONSFIELD). 1805-1881.
     Free trade is not a principle, it is an expedient.
_On Import Duties, April 25, 1843._
     The noble lord[607-2] is the Rupert of debate.
_Speech, April, 1844._
     A conservative government is an organized hypocrisy.
_Speech, March 17, 1845._
     A precedent embalms a principle.
_Speech, Feb. 22, 1848._
     It is much easier to be critical than to be correct.
_Speech, Jan. 24, 1860._
     The characteristic of the present age is craving credulity.
_Speech, Nov. 25, 1864._
     Assassination has never changed the history of the world.
_Speech, May, 1865._
     I see before me the statue of a celebrated minister,[607-4] who
     said that confidence was a plant of slow growth. But I believe,
     however gradual may be the growth of confidence, that of credit
     requires still more time to arrive at maturity.
_Speech, Nov. 9, 1867._
     The secret of success is constancy to purpose.
_Speech, June 24, 1870._
     The author who speaks about his own books is almost as bad as a
     mother who talks about her own children.
_Speech, Nov. 19, 1870._
     Apologies only account for that which they do not alter.
_Speech, July 28, 1871._
     Increased means and increased leisure are the two civilizers of
     man.
_Speech, April 3, 1872._
     I repeat . . . that all power is a trust; that we are accountable
     for its exercise; that from the people and for the people all
     springs, and all must exist.
_Vivian Grey. Book vi. Chap. vii._
     Man is not the creature of circumstances. Circumstances are the
     creatures of men.
_Vivian Grey. Book vi. Chap. vii._
     The disappointment of manhood succeeds to the delusion of youth:
     let us hope that the heritage of old age is not despair.
_Vivian Grey. Book viii. Chap. iv._
     The first favourite was never heard of, the second favourite was
     never seen after the distance post, all the ten-to-oners were in
     the rear, and a dark horse[608-2] which had never been thought
     of, and which the careless St. James had never even observed in
     the list, rushed past the grand stand in sweeping triumph.
_The Young Duke. Book i. Chap. v._
     Patience is a necessary ingredient of genius.
_Contarini Fleming. Part iv. Chap. v._
     Youth is a blunder; manhood a struggle; old age a regret.
_Coningsby. Book iii. Chap. i._
     But what minutes! Count them by sensation, and not by calendars,
     and each moment is a day, and the race a life.
_Sybil. Book i. Chap. ii._
     Only think of Cockie Graves having gone and done it!
_Sybil. Book i. Chap. ii._
     The Duke of Wellington brought to the post of first minister
     immortal fame,--a quality of success which would almost seem to
     include all others.
_Sybil. Book i. Chap. iii._
     The Egremonts had never said anything that was remembered, or
     done anything that could be recalled.
_Sybil. Book i. Chap. iii._
     If the history of England be ever written by one who has the
     knowledge and the courage,--and both qualities are equally
     requisite for the undertaking,--the world will be more astonished
     than when reading the Roman annals by Niebuhr.
_Sybil. Book i. Chap. iii._
     That earliest shock in one's life which occurs to all of us;
     which first makes us think.
_Sybil. Book i. Chap. v._
     To be conscious that you are ignorant is a great step to
     knowledge.
_Sybil. Book i. Chap. v._
     Principle is ever my motto, not expediency.
_Sybil. Book ii. Chap. ii._
     Property has its duties as well as its rights.
_Sybil. Book ii. Chap. xi._
     Mr. Kremlin was distinguished for ignorance; for he had only one
     idea, and that was wrong.
_Sybil. Book iv. Chap. v._
     Everything comes if a man will only wait.
_Tancred. Book iv. Chap. viii._ (_1847._)
     That when a man fell into his anecdotage, it was a sign for him
     to retire.
_Lothair. Chap. xxviii._
     You know who critics are?--the men who have failed in literature
     and art.
_Lothair. Chap. xxxv._
     His Christianity was muscular.
_Endymion. Chap. xiv._
     The Athanasian Creed is the most splendid ecclesiastical lyric
     ever poured forth by the genius of man.
_Endymion. Chap. lii._
     The world is a wheel, and it will all come round right.
_Endymion. Chap. lxx._
     "As for that," said Waldenshare, "sensible men are all of the
     same religion." "Pray, what is that?" inquired the Prince.
     "Sensible men never tell."
_Endymion. Chap. lxxxi._
     The sweet simplicity of the three per cents.
_Endymion. Chap. xcvi._
ROBERT MONTGOMERY. 1807-1855.
    And thou, vast ocean! on whose awful face
    Time's iron feet can print no ruin-trace.
_The Omnipresence of the Deity. Part i._
    The soul aspiring pants its source to mount,
    As streams meander level with their fount.
_The Omnipresence of the Deity. Part i._
    The solitary monk who shook the world
    From pagan slumber, when the gospel trump
    Thunder'd its challenge from his dauntless lips
    In peals of truth.
_Luther. Man's Need and God's Supply._
    And not from Nature up to Nature's God,
    But down from Nature's God look Nature through.
_Luther. A Landscape of Domestic Life._
CHARLES JEFFERYS. 1807-1865.
    Come o'er the moonlit sea,
    The waves are brightly glowing.
_The Moonlit Sea._
    The morn was fair, the skies were clear,
    No breath came o'er the sea.
_The Rose of Allandale._
    Meek and lowly, pure and holy,
    Chief among the "blessed three."
_Charity._
    Come, wander with me, for the moonbeams are bright
    On river and forest, o'er mountain and lea.
_Come, wander with me._
    A word in season spoken
    May calm the troubled breast.
_A Word in Season._
    The bud is on the bough again,
      The leaf is on the tree.
_The Meeting of Spring and Summer._
    I have heard the mavis singing
      Its love-song to the morn;
    I 've seen the dew-drop clinging
      To the rose just newly born.
_Mary of Argyle._
    We have lived and loved together
      Through many changing years;
    We have shared each other's gladness,
      And wept each other's tears.
_We have lived and loved together._
LADY DUFFERIN. 1807-1867.
    I 'm sitting on the stile, Mary,
      Where we sat side by side.
_Lament of the Irish Emigrant._
    I 'm very lonely now, Mary,
      For the poor make no new friends;
    But oh they love the better still
      The few our Father sends!
_Lament of the Irish Emigrant._
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 1807-1882.
(_From the edition of 1886._)
    Look, then, into thine heart, and write!
_Voices of the Night. Prelude._
    Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
      "Life is but an empty dream!"
    For the soul is dead that slumbers,
      And things are not what they seem.
_A Psalm of Life._
    Life is real! life is earnest!
      And the grave is not its goal;
    Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
      Was not spoken of the soul.
_A Psalm of Life._
    Art is long, and time is fleeting,
      And our hearts, though stout and brave,
    Still like muffled drums are beating
      Funeral marches to the grave.
_A Psalm of Life._
    Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!
      Let the dead Past bury its dead!
    Act, act in the living present!
      Heart within, and God o'erhead!
_A Psalm of Life._
    Lives of great men all remind us
      We can make our lives sublime,
    And departing, leave behind us
      Footprints on the sands of time.
_A Psalm of Life._
    Let us, then, be up and doing,
      With a heart for any fate;
    Still achieving, still pursuing,
      Learn to labour and to wait.
_A Psalm of Life._
    There is a reaper whose name is Death,
      And with his sickle keen
    He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
      And the flowers that grow between.
_The Reaper and the Flowers._
    The star of the unconquered will.
_The Light of Stars._
    Oh, fear not in a world like this,
      And thou shalt know erelong,
    Know how sublime a thing it is
      To suffer and be strong.
_The Light of Stars._
    Spake full well, in language quaint and olden,
      One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine,
    When he called the flowers, so blue and golden,
      Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.
_Flowers._
    The hooded clouds, like friars,
      Tell their beads in drops of rain.
_Midnight Mass._
                         No tears
    Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.
_Sunrise on the Hills._
    No one is so accursed by fate,
    No one so utterly desolate,
      But some heart, though unknown,
      Responds unto his own.
_Endymion._
    For Time will teach thee soon the truth,
      There are no birds in last year's nest!
_It is not always May._
    Into each life some rain must fall,
      Some days must be dark and dreary.
_The Rainy Day._
    The prayer of Ajax was for light.
_The Goblet of Life._
    O suffering, sad humanity!
    O ye afflicted ones, who lie
    Steeped to the lips in misery,
    Longing, yet afraid to die,
      Patient, though sorely tried!
_The Goblet of Life._
    Standing with reluctant feet
    Where the brook and river meet,
    Womanhood and childhood fleet!
_Maidenhood._
    O thou child of many prayers!
    Life hath quicksands; life hath snares!
_Maidenhood._
    She floats upon the river of his thoughts.
_The Spanish Student. Act ii. Sc. 3._
    A banner with the strange device.
_Excelsior._
    This is the place. Stand still, my steed,
      Let me review the scene,
    And summon from the shadowy past
      The forms that once have been.
_A Gleam of Sunshine._
    The day is done, and the darkness
      Falls from the wings of Night,
    As a feather is wafted downward
      From an eagle in his flight.
_The Day is done._
    A feeling of sadness and longing
      That is not akin to pain,
    And resembles sorrow only
      As the mist resembles the rain.
_The Day is done._
    And the night shall be filled with music,
      And the cares that infest the day
    Shall fold their tents like the Arabs,
      And as silently steal away.
_The Day is done._
            Sail on, O Ship of State!
    Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
    Humanity with all its fears,
    With all the hopes of future years,
    Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
_The Building of the Ship._
    Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
    Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
    Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,
    Are all with thee,--are all with thee!
_The Building of the Ship._
    The leaves of memory seemed to make
      A mournful rustling in the dark.
_The Fire of Drift-wood._
    There is no flock, however watched and tended,
      But one dead lamb is there;
    There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,
      But has one vacant chair.
_Resignation._
    The air is full of farewells to the dying,
      And mournings for the dead.
_Resignation._
    But oftentimes celestial benedictions
      Assume this dark disguise.
_Resignation._
    What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers
      May be heaven's distant lamps.
_Resignation._
    There is no death! What seems so is transition;
      This life of mortal breath
    Is but a suburb of the life elysian,
      Whose portal we call Death.
_Resignation._
    Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution,
      She lives whom we call dead.
_Resignation._
    In the elder days of Art,
      Builders wrought with greatest care
    Each minute and unseen part;
      For the gods see everywhere.
_The Builders._
    This is the forest primeval.
_Evangeline. Part i._
    When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music.
_Evangeline. Part i. 1._
    Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.
_Evangeline. Part i. 3._
    And as she looked around, she saw how Death the consoler,
    Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it forever.
_Evangeline. Part ii. 5._
    God had sifted three kingdoms to find the wheat for this planting.
_The Courtship of Miles Standish. iv._
    Into a world unknown,--the corner-stone of a nation!
_The Courtship of Miles Standish. iv._
    Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
      That of our vices we can frame
    A ladder, if we will but tread
      Beneath our feet each deed of shame.
_The Ladder of Saint Augustine._
    The heights by great men reached and kept
      Were not attained by sudden flight,
    But they while their companions slept
      Were toiling upward in the night.
_The Ladder of Saint Augustine._
    The surest pledge of a deathless name
    Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken.
_The Herons of Elmwood._
    He has singed the beard of the king of Spain.
_The Dutch Picture._
    The love of learning, the sequestered nooks,
    And all the sweet serenity of books.
_Morituri Salutamus._
    With useless endeavour
    Forever, forever,
    Is Sisyphus rolling
    His stone up the mountain!
_The Masque of Pandora. Chorus of the Eumenides._
    All things come round to him who will but wait.
_Tales of a Wayside Inn. The Student's Tale._
         Time has laid his hand
    Upon my heart gently, not smiting it,
    But as a harper lays his open palm
    Upon his harp, to deaden its vibrations.
_The Golden Legend. iv._
    Hospitality sitting with Gladness.
_Translation from Frithiof's Saga._
    Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate,
      Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours
    Weeping upon his bed has sate,
      He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.
_Motto, Hyperion. Book i._
    Something the heart must have to cherish,
      Must love and joy and sorrow learn;
    Something with passion clasp, or perish
      And in itself to ashes burn.
_Hyperion. Book ii._
     Alas! it is not till time, with reckless hand, has torn out half
     the leaves from the Book of Human Life to light the fires of
     passion with from day to day, that man begins to see that the
     leaves which remain are few in number.
_Hyperion. Book iv. Chap. viii._
     Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee.
_Kavanagh._
                 There is no greater sorrow
    Than to be mindful of the happy time
    In misery.
_Inferno. Canto v. Line 121._
JOHN G. WHITTIER. 1807- ----.
    So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn
      Which once he wore;
    The glory from his gray hairs gone
      For evermore!
_Ichabod!_
    Making their lives a prayer.
_To A. K. On receiving a Basket of Sea-Mosses._
    And step by step, since time began,
    I see the steady gain of man.
_The Chapel of the Hermits._
    For still the new transcends the old
    In signs and tokens manifold;
    Slaves rise up men; the olive waves,
    With roots deep set in battle graves!
_The Chapel of the Hermits._
    Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time,
      So "Bonnie Doon" but tarry;
    Blot out the epic's stately rhyme,
      But spare his "Highland Mary!"
_Lines on Burns._
    For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
    The saddest are these: "It might have been!"
_Maud Muller._
    Low stir of leaves and dip of oars
    And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
_Snow Bound._
    The hope of all who suffer,
      The dread of all who wrong.
_The Mantle of St. John de Matha._
    I know not where His islands lift
      Their fronded palms in air;
    I only know I cannot drift
      Beyond His love and care.
_The Eternal Goodness._
SALMON P. CHASE. 1808-1873.
     The Constitution, in all its provisions, looks to an
     indestructible Union composed of indestructible States.
_Decision in Texas v. White, 7 Wallace, 725._
     No more slave States; no slave Territories.
_Platform of the Free Soil National Convention, 1848._
     The way to resumption is to resume.
_Letter to Horace Greeley, March 17, 1866._
SAMUEL FRANCIS SMITH. 1808- ----.
    My country, 't is of thee,
    Sweet land of liberty,
      Of thee I sing:
    Land where my fathers died,
    Land of the pilgrims' pride,
    From every mountain-side
      Let freedom ring.
_National Hymn._
    Our fathers' God, to thee;
    Author of liberty,
      To thee I sing;
    Long may our land be bright
    With freedom's holy light;
    Protect us by thy might,
      Great God, our King!
_National Hymn._
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 1809-1861.
    There Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
    The crowns o' the world; oh, eyes sublime
    With tears and laughter for all time!
_A Vision of Poets._
    And Chaucer, with his infantine
    Familiar clasp of things divine.
_A Vision of Poets._
    And Marlowe, Webster, Fletcher, Ben,
    Whose fire-hearts sowed our furrows when
    The world was worthy of such men.
_A Vision of Poets._
    Knowledge by suffering entereth,
    And life is perfected by death.
_A Vision of Poets. Conclusion._
    Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west.
_Toll slowly._
    And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness,
      Round our restlessness His rest.
_Rhyme of the Duchess._
    Or from Browning some "Pomegranate," which if cut deep down the middle
    Shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.
_Lady Geraldine's Courtship. xli._
                        But since he had
    The genius to be loved, why let him have
    The justice to be honoured in his grave.
_Crowned and buried. xxvii._
    Thou large-brain'd woman and large-hearted man.
_To George Sand. A Desire._
    By thunders of white silence.
_Hiram Power's Greek Slave._
    And that dismal cry rose slowly
      And sank slowly through the air,
    Full of spirit's melancholy
      And eternity's despair;
    And they heard the words it said,
    "Pan is dead! great Pan is dead!
      Pan, Pan is dead!"
_The Dead Pan._
    Death forerunneth Love to win
    "Sweetest eyes were ever seen."
_Catarina to Camoens. ix._
    She has seen the mystery hid
    Under Egypt's pyramid:
    By those eyelids pale and close
    Now she knows what Rhamses knows.
_Little Mattie. Stanza ii._
                    But so fair,
    She takes the breath of men away
    Who gaze upon her unaware.
_Bianca among the Nightingales. xii._
    God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers,
    And thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our face,
    A gauntlet with a gift in 't.
_Aurora Leigh. Book ii._
    The growing drama has outgrown such toys
    Of simulated stature, face, and speech:
    It also peradventure may outgrow
    The simulation of the painted scene,
    Boards, actors, prompters, gaslight, and costume,
    And take for a worthier stage the soul itself,
    Its shifting fancies and celestial lights,
    With all its grand orchestral silences
    To keep the pauses of its rhythmic sounds.
_Aurora Leigh. Book v._
ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 1809-1865.
     I believe this government cannot endure permanently half slave
     and half free.
_Speech, June 16, 1858._
     Let us have faith that right makes might; and in that faith let
     us dare to do our duty as we understand it.
_Address, New York City, Feb. 21, 1859._
     In giving freedom to the slave we assure freedom to the
     free,--honorable alike in what we give and what we preserve.
_Second Annual Message to Congress, Dec. 1, 1862._
     That this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom,
     and that government of the people, by the people, for the people,
     shall not perish from the earth.
_Speech at Gettysburg, Nov. 19, 1863._
     With malice towards none, with charity for all, with firmness in
     the right, as God gives us to see the right.
_Second Inaugural Address, March 4, 1865._
CHARLES DARWIN. 1809-1882.
     I have called this principle, by which each slight variation, if
     useful, is preserved, by the term Natural Selection.
_The Origin of Species. Chap. iii._
     We will now discuss in a little more detail the Struggle for
     Existence.
_The Origin of Species. Chap. iii._
     The expression often used by Mr. Herbert Spencer of the Survival
     of the Fittest is more accurate, and is sometimes equally
     convenient.
_The Origin of Species. Chap. iii._
ALFRED TENNYSON. 1809- ----.
(_From the edition of 1884._)
    This laurel greener from the brows
    Of him that utter'd nothing base.
_To the Queen._
    And statesmen at her council met
      Who knew the seasons, when to take
      Occasion by the hand, and make
    The bounds of freedom wider yet.
_To the Queen._
    Broad based upon her people's will,
    And compassed by the inviolate sea.
_To the Queen._
    For it was in the golden prime
      Of good Haroun Alraschid.
_Recollections of the Arabian Nights._
    Dowered with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn,
    The love of love.
_The Poet._
    Like glimpses of forgotten dreams.
_The Two Voices. Stanza cxxvii._
    Across the walnuts and the wine.
_The Miller's Daughter._
    O love! O fire! once he drew
    With one long kiss my whole soul through
    My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
_Fatima. Stanza 3._
    Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control,
    These three alone lead life to sovereign power.
_OEnone._
      Because right is right, to follow right
    Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.
_OEnone._
    I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house,
      Wherein at ease for aye to dwell.
_The Palace of Art._
    Her manners had not that repose
      Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere.
_Lady Clara Vere de Vere. Stanza 5._
      From yon blue heaven above us bent,
    The grand old gardener and his wife
      Smile at the claims of long descent.
_Lady Clara Vere de Vere. Stanza 7._
    Howe'er it be, it seems to me,
      'T is only noble to be good.
    Kind hearts are more than coronets,
      And simple faith than Norman blood.
_Lady Clara Vere de Vere. Stanza 7._
    You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;
    To-morrow 'll be the happiest time of all the glad New Year,
    Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day;
    For I 'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I 'm to be queen o' the May.
_The May Queen._
                     Ah, why
    Should life all labour be?
_The Lotus-Eaters. iv._
    A daughter of the gods, divinely tall,
      And most divinely fair.
_A Dream of Fair Women. Stanza xxii._
    God gives us love. Something to love
      He lends us; but when love is grown
    To ripeness, that on which it throve
      Falls off, and love is left alone.
_To J. S._
    Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace!
      Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
    While the stars burn, the moons increase,
      And the great ages onward roll.
_To J. S._
    Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet!
      Nothing comes to thee new or strange.
    Sleep full of rest from head to feet;
      Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.
_To J. S._
    More black than ash-buds in the front of March.
_The Gardener's Daughter._
    Of love that never found his earthly close,
    What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts;
    Or all the same as if he had not been?
_Love and Duty._
    The long mechanic pacings to and fro,
    The set, gray life, and apathetic end.
_Love and Duty._
          Ah, when shall all men's good
    Be each man's rule, and universal peace
    Lie like a shaft of light across the land,
    And like a lane of beams athwart the sea,
    Thro' all the circle of the golden year?
_The Golden Year._
    I am a part of all that I have met.
_Ulysses._
    How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
    To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use,
    As tho' to breathe were life!
_Ulysses._
    It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
    And see the great Achilles whom we knew.
_Ulysses._
    Here at the quiet limit of the world.
_Tithonus._
    In the spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove;
    In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
_Locksley Hall. Line 19._
    Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might;
    Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
_Locksley Hall. Line 33._
    He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force,
    Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.
_Locksley Hall. Line 49._
                 This is truth the poet sings,
    That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.
_Locksley Hall. Line 75._
    Like a dog, he hunts in dreams.
_Locksley Hall. Line 79._
    With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daughter's heart.
_Locksley Hall. Line 94._
    But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honour feels.
_Locksley Hall. Line 105._
    Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new.
_Locksley Hall. Line 117._
    Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs,
    And the thoughts of men are widen'd with the process of the suns.
_Locksley Hall. Line 137._
    Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.
_Locksley Hall. Line 141._
    I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.
_Locksley Hall. Line 168._
    I, the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time.
_Locksley Hall. Line 178._
    Let the great world spin forever down the ringing grooves of change.
_Locksley Hall. Line 182._
    Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.
_Locksley Hall. Line 184._
    I waited for the train at Coventry;
    I hung with grooms and porters on the bridge,
    To watch the three tall spires; and there I shaped
    The city's ancient legend into this.
_Godiva._
    And on her lover's arm she leant,
      And round her waist she felt it fold,
    And far across the hills they went
      In that new world which is the old.
_The Day-Dream. The Departure, i._
    And o'er the hills, and far away
      Beyond their utmost purple rim,
    Beyond the night, across the day,
      Thro' all the world she follow'd him.
_The Day-Dream. The Departure, iv._
    We are ancients of the earth,
    And in the morning of the times.
_L'Envoi._
    As she fled fast through sun and shade
    The happy winds upon her play'd,
    Blowing the ringlet from the braid.
_Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere._
    For now the poet cannot die,
      Nor leave his music as of old,
      But round him ere he scarce be cold
    Begins the scandal and the cry.
_To ----, after reading a Life and Letters._
    But oh for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
      And the sound of a voice that is still!
_Break, break, break._
    But the tender grace of a day that is dead
      Will never come back to me.
_Break, break, break._
    For men may come and men may go,
      But I go on forever.
_The Brook._
    Mastering the lawless science of our law,
    That codeless myriad of precedent,
    That wilderness of single instances.
_Aylmer's Field._
    Rich in saving common-sense,
    And, as the greatest only are,
    In his simplicity sublime.
_Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Stanza 4._
    Oh good gray head which all men knew!
_Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Stanza 4._
                    That tower of strength
    Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew.
_Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Stanza 4._
    For this is England's greatest son,
    He that gain'd a hundred fights,
    And never lost an English gun.
_Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Stanza 6._
    Not once or twice in our rough-island story
    The path of duty was the way to glory.
_Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Stanza 8._
    All in the valley of death
      Rode the six hundred.
_The Charge of the Light Brigade. Stanza 1._
      Some one had blunder'd:
    Theirs not to make reply,
    Theirs not to reason why,
    Theirs but to do and die.
_The Charge of the Light Brigade. Stanza 2._
    Cannon to right of them,
    Cannon to left of them,
    Cannon in front of them.
         .     .     .     .
    Into the jaws of death,
    Into the mouth of hell
      Rode the six hundred.
_The Charge of the Light Brigade. Stanza 3._
    That a lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies;
    That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright;
    But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight.
_The Grandmother. Stanza 8._
    O Love! what hours were thine and mine,
    In lands of palm and southern pine;
      In lands of palm, of orange-blossom,
    Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine!
_The Daisy. Stanza 1._
    So dear a life your arms enfold,
    Whose crying is a cry for gold.
_The Daisy. Stanza 24._
    Read my little fable:
      He that runs may read.
    Most can raise the flowers now,
      For all have got the seed.
_The Flower._
    In that fierce light which beats upon a throne.
_Idylls of the King. Dedication._
    It is the little rift within the lute
    That by and by will make the music mute,
    And ever widening slowly silence all.
_Idylls of the King. Merlin and Vivien._
    His honour rooted in dishonour stood,
    And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.
_Idylls of the King. Launcelot and Elaine._
    The old order changeth, yielding place to new;
    And God fulfils himself in many ways,
    Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
_The Passing of Arthur._
                   I am going a long way
    With these thou seëst--if indeed I go
    (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)
    To the island-valley of Avilion,
    Where falls not hail or rain or any snow,
    Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
    Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns
    And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea,
    Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
_The Passing of Arthur._
    With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans,
    And sweet girl-graduates in their golden hair.
_The Princess. Prologue. Line 141._
    A rosebud set with little wilful thorns,
    And sweet as English air could make her, she.
_The Princess. Part i. Line 153._
                        Jewels five-words-long,
    That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time
    Sparkle forever.
_The Princess. Part ii. Line 355._
    Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying!
    Blow, bugle! answer, echoes! dying, dying, dying.
_The Princess. Part iii. Line 352._
          O Love! they die in yon rich sky,
            They faint on hill or field or river:
          Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
            And grow forever and forever.
    Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying!
    And answer, echoes, answer! dying, dying, dying.
_The Princess. Part iii. Line 360._
    There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun.
_The Princess. Part iv. Line 1._
      Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean.
    Tears from the depth of some divine despair
    Rise in the heart and gather to the eyes,
    In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
    And thinking of the days that are no more.
_The Princess. Part iv. Line 21._
                Unto dying eyes
    The casement slowly grows a glimmering square.
_The Princess. Part iv. Line 33._
      Dear as remember'd kisses after death,
    And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd
    On lips that are for others; deep as love,
    Deep as first love, and wild with all regret.
    Oh death in life, the days that are no more!
_The Princess. Part iv. Line 36._
                 Sweet is every sound,
    Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet;
    Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn,
    The moan of doves in immemorial elms,
    And murmuring of innumerable bees.
_The Princess. Part vii. Line 203._
                      Happy he
    With such a mother! faith in womankind
    Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high
    Comes easy to him; and tho' he trip and fall,
    He shall not blind his soul with clay.
_The Princess. Part vii. Line 308._
    Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null.
_Maud. Part i. ii._
    That jewell'd mass of millinery,
    That oil'd and curl'd Assyrian Bull.
_Maud. Part i. vi. Stanza 6._
    Gorgonized me from head to foot,
      With a stony British stare.
_Maud. Part i. xiii. Stanza 2._
    Come into the garden, Maud,
      For the black bat, night, has flown;
    Come into the garden, Maud,
      I am here at the gate alone.
_Maud. Part i. xxii. Stanza 1._
    Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.
_Maud. Part i. xxii. Stanza 9._
    Ah, Christ, that it were possible
      For one short hour to see
    The souls we loved, that they might tell us
      What and where they be.
_Maud. Part ii. iv. Stanza 3._
    Let knowledge grow from more to more.
_In Memoriam. Prologue. Line 25._
    I held it truth, with him who sings
      To one clear harp in divers tones,
      That men may rise on stepping-stones
    Of their dead selves to higher things.
_In Memoriam. i. Stanza 1._
    But for the unquiet heart and brain
      A use in measured language lies;
      The sad mechanic exercise
    Like dull narcotics numbing pain.
_In Memoriam. v. Stanza 2._
                 Never morning wore
    To evening, but some heart did break.
_In Memoriam. vi. Stanza 2._
      And topples round the dreary west
    A looming bastion fringed with fire.
_In Memoriam. xv. Stanza 5._
      And from his ashes may be made
    The violet of his native land.
_In Memoriam. xviii. Stanza 1._
      I do but sing because I must,
    And pipe but as the linnets sing.
_In Memoriam. xxi. Stanza 6._
    The shadow cloak'd from head to foot.
_In Memoriam. xxiii. Stanza 1._
    Who keeps the keys of all the creeds.
_In Memoriam. xxiii. Stanza 2._
      And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought
    Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech.
_In Memoriam. xxiii. Stanza 4._
      'T is better to have loved and lost
    Than never to have loved at all.
_In Memoriam. xxvii. Stanza 4._
    Her eyes are homes of silent prayer.
_In Memoriam. xxxii. Stanza 1._
      Whose faith has centre everywhere,
    Nor cares to fix itself to form.
_In Memoriam. xxxiii. Stanza 1._
      Short swallow-flights of song, that dip
    Their wings in tears, and skim away.
_In Memoriam. xlviii. Stanza 4._
    Hold thou the good; define it well;
      For fear divine Philosophy
      Should push beyond her mark, and be
    Procuress to the Lords of Hell.
_In Memoriam. liii. Stanza 4._
    Oh yet we trust that somehow good
      Will be the final goal of ill.
_In Memoriam. liv. Stanza 1._
                 But what am I?
      An infant crying in the night:
      An infant crying for the light,
    And with no language but a cry.
_In Memoriam. liv. Stanza 5._
      So careful of the type she seems,
    So careless of the single life.
_In Memoriam. lv. Stanza 2._
               The great world's altar-stairs,
    That slope through darkness up to God.
_In Memoriam. lv. Stanza 4._
    Who battled for the True, the Just.
_In Memoriam. lvi. Stanza 5._
    And grasps the skirts of happy chance,
    And breasts the blows of circumstance.
_In Memoriam. lxiv. Stanza 2._
      And lives to clutch the golden keys,
      To mould a mighty state's decrees,
    And shape the whisper of the throne.
_In Memoriam. lxiv. Stanza 3._
    So many worlds, so much to do,
      So little done, such things to be.
_In Memoriam. lxxiii. Stanza 1._
    Thy leaf has perish'd in the green,
      And while we breathe beneath the sun,
      The world, which credits what is done,
    Is cold to all that might have been.
_In Memoriam. lxxv. Stanza 4._
    O last regret, regret can die!
_In Memoriam. lxxviii. Stanza 5._
      There lives more faith in honest doubt,
    Believe me, than in half the creeds.
_In Memoriam. xcvi. Stanza 3._
    He seems so near, and yet so far.
_In Memoriam. xcvii. Stanza 6._
    Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky!
_In Memoriam. cv. Stanza 1._
    Ring out the old, ring in the new,
    Ring, happy bells, across the snow!
_In Memoriam. cv. Stanza 2._
      Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
    But ring the fuller minstrel in!
_In Memoriam. cv. Stanza 5._
    Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
      Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
      Ring out the thousand wars of old,
    Ring in the thousand years of peace!
_In Memoriam. cv. Stanza 7._
    Ring in the valiant man and free,
      The larger heart, the kindlier hand!
      Ring out the darkness of the land,
    Ring in the Christ that is to be!
_In Memoriam. cv. Stanza 8._
    And thus he bore without abuse
      The grand old name of gentleman,
      Defamed by every charlatan,
    And soil'd with all ignoble use.
_In Memoriam. cxi. Stanza 6._
              Some novel power
      Sprang up forever at a touch,
      And hope could never hope too much
    In watching thee from hour to hour.
_In Memoriam. cxii. Stanza 3._
    Large elements in order brought,
      And tracts of calm from tempest made,
      And world-wide fluctuation sway'd,
    In vassal tides that follow'd thought.
_In Memoriam. cxii. Stanza 4._
           Wearing all that weight
    Of learning lightly like a flower.
_In Memoriam. Conclusion. Stanza 10._
      One God, one law, one element,
      And one far-off divine event
    To which the whole creation moves.
_In Memoriam. Conclusion. Stanza 36._
RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES (LORD HOUGHTON). 1809-1885.
    But on and up, where Nature's heart
      Beats strong amid the hills.
_Tragedy of the Lac de Gaube. Stanza 2._
    Great thoughts, great feelings came to them,
      Like instincts, unawares.
_The Men of Old._
    A man's best things are nearest him,
      Lie close about his feet.
_The Men of Old._
    I wandered by the brookside,
      I wandered by the mill;
    I could not hear the brook flow,
      The noisy wheel was still.
_The Brookside._
    The beating of my own heart
      Was all the sound I heard.
_The Brookside._
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 1809- ----.
    Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
      Long has it waved on high,
    And many an eye has danced to see
      That banner in the sky.
_Old Ironsides._
    Nail to the mast her holy flag,
      Set every threadbare sail,
    And give her to the god of storms,
      The lightning and the gale!
_Old Ironsides._
    Like sentinel and nun, they keep
      Their vigil on the green.
_The Cambridge Churchyard._
    The mossy marbles rest
    On the lips that he has prest
        In their bloom;
    And the names he loved to hear
    Have been carved for many a year
        On the tomb.
_The Last Leaf._
    I know it is a sin
    For me to sit and grin
        At him here;
    But the old three-cornered hat,
    And the breeches, and all that,
        Are so queer!
_The Last Leaf._
    Thou say'st an undisputed thing
      In such a solemn way.
_To an Insect._
    Their discords sting through Burns and Moore,
      Like hedgehogs dressed in lace.
_The Music-Grinders._
    You think they are crusaders sent
      From some infernal clime,
    To pluck the eyes of sentiment
      And dock the tail of Rhyme,
    To crack the voice of Melody
      And break the legs of Time.
_The Music-Grinders._
    And since, I never dare to write
      As funny as I can.
_The Height of the Ridiculous._
    When the last reader reads no more.
_The Last Reader._
    The freeman casting with unpurchased hand
    The vote that shakes the turrets of the land.
_Poetry, a Metrical Essay._
    'T is the heart's current lends the cup its glow,
    Whate'er the fountain whence the draught may flow.
_A Sentiment._
    Yes, child of suffering, thou mayst well be sure
    He who ordained the Sabbath loves the poor!
_A Rhymed Lesson. Urania._
    And when you stick on conversation's burrs,
    Don't strew your pathway with those dreadful _urs_.
_A Rhymed Lesson. Urania._
    Thine eye was on the censer,
      And not the hand that bore it.
_Lines by a Clerk._
    Where go the poet's lines?
      Answer, ye evening tapers!
    Ye auburn locks, ye golden curls,
      Speak from your folded papers!
_The Poet's Lot._
    A few can touch the magic string,
      And noisy Fame is proud to win them;
    Alas for those that never sing,
      But die with all their music in them!
_The Voiceless._
    O hearts that break and give no sign
      Save whitening lip and fading tresses!
_The Voiceless._
    Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
    As the swift seasons roll!
    Leave thy low-vaulted past!
    Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
    Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
    Till thou at length art free,
    Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
_The Chambered Nautilus._
    His home! the Western giant smiles,
      And twirls the spotty globe to find it;
    This little speck, the British Isles?
      'T is but a freckle,--never mind it.
_A Good Time going._
    But Memory blushes at the sneer,
      And Honor turns with frown defiant,
    And Freedom, leaning on her spear,
      Laughs louder than the laughing giant.
_A Good Time going._
    You hear that boy laughing?--you think he 's all fun;
    But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has done;
    The children laugh loud as they troop to his call,
    And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all.
_The Boys._
    Good to the heels the well-worn slipper feels
      When the tired player shuffles off the buskin;
    A page of Hood may do a fellow good
      After a scolding from Carlyle or Ruskin.
_How not to settle it._
     A thought is often original, though you have uttered it a hundred
     times.
_The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. i._
     People that make puns are like wanton boys that put coppers on
     the railroad tracks.
_The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. i._
     Everybody likes and respects self-made men. It is a great deal
     better to be made in that way than not to be made at all.
_The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. i._
     Sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle which fits them all.
_The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. vi._
     There is that glorious epicurean paradox uttered by my friend the
     historian,[637-1] in one of his flashing moments: "Give us the
     luxuries of life, and we will dispense with its necessaries." To
     this must certainly be added that other saying of one of the
     wittiest of men:[638-1] "Good Americans when they die go to
     Paris."
_The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. vi._
     Boston State-house is the hub of the solar system. You could n't
     pry that out of a Boston man if you had the tire of all creation
     straightened out for a crow-bar.
_The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. vi._
     The axis of the earth sticks out visibly through the centre of
     each and every town or city.
_The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. vi._
     The world's great men have not commonly been great scholars, nor
     its great scholars great men.
_The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. vi._
     Knowledge and timber should n't be much used till they are
     seasoned.
_The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. vi._
     The hat is the _ultimum moriens_ of respectability.
_The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. viii._
     To be seventy years young is sometimes far more cheerful and
     hopeful than to be forty years old.
_On the Seventieth Birthday of Julia Ward Howe_ (_May 27, 1889_).
ROBERT C. WINTHROP. 1809- ----.
     Our Country,--whether bounded by the St. John's and the Sabine,
     or however otherwise bounded or described, and be the
     measurements more or less,--still our Country, to be cherished in
     all our hearts, to be defended by all our hands.
_Toast at Faneuil Hall on the Fourth of July, 1845._
     A star for every State, and a State for every star.
_Address on Boston Common in 1862._
     There are no points of the compass on the chart of true
     patriotism.
_Letter to Boston Commercial Club in 1879._
     The poor must be wisely visited and liberally cared for, so that
     mendicity shall not be tempted into mendacity, nor want
     exasperated into crime.
_Yorktown Oration in 1881._
     Slavery is but half abolished, emancipation is but half
     completed, while millions of freemen with votes in their hands
     are left without education. Justice to them, the welfare of the
     States in which they live, the safety of the whole Republic, the
     dignity of the elective franchise,--all alike demand that the
     still remaining bonds of ignorance shall be unloosed and broken,
     and the minds as well as the bodies of the emancipated go free.
_Yorktown Oration in 1881._
JAMES ALDRICH. 1810-1856.
    Her suffering ended with the day,
      Yet lived she at its close,
    And breathed the long, long night away
      In statue-like repose.
_A Death-Bed._
    But when the sun in all his state
      Illumed the eastern skies,
    She passed through Glory's morning-gate,
      And walked in Paradise.
_A Death-Bed._
THEODORE PARKER. 1810-1860.
     There is what I call the American idea. . . . This idea demands,
     as the proximate organization thereof, a democracy,--that is, a
     government of all the people, by all the people, for all the
     people; of course, a government of the principles of eternal
     justice, the unchanging law of God. For shortness' sake I will
     call it the idea of Freedom.
_Speech at the N. E. Antislavery Convention, Boston, May 29, 1850._
EDMUND H. SEARS. 1810-1876.
    Calm on the listening ear of night
      Come Heaven's melodious strains,
    Where wild Judea stretches far
      Her silver-mantled plains.
_Christmas Song._
    It came upon the midnight clear,
      That glorious song of old.
_The Angels' Song._
MARTIN F. TUPPER. 1810-1889.
     A babe in a house is a well-spring of pleasure.
_Of Education._
     God, from a beautiful necessity, is Love.
_Of Immortality._
EDGAR A. POE. 1811-1849.
    Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
      Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
_The Raven._
                  Whom unmerciful disaster
    Followed fast and followed faster.
_The Raven._
    Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
      Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
_The Raven._
    And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
      Shall be lifted--Nevermore!
_The Raven._
    To the glory that was Greece
    And the grandeur that was Rome.
_To Helen._
WENDELL PHILLIPS. 1811-1884.
     Revolutions are not made; they come.
_Speech, Jan. 28, 1852._
     What the Puritans gave the world was not thought, but action.
_Speech, Dec. 21, 1855._
     One on God's side is a majority.
_Speech, Nov. 1, 1859._
     Every man meets his Waterloo at last.
_Speech, Nov. 1, 1859._
     Revolutions never go backward.
_Speech, Feb. 12, 1861._
FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. 1811- ----.
    A sacred burden is this life ye bear:
    Look on it, lift it, bear it solemnly,
    Stand up and walk beneath it steadfastly.
    Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin,
    But onward, upward, till the goal ye win.
_Lines addressed to the Young Gentlemen leaving the Lenox Academy, Mass._
    Better trust all, and be deceived,
      And weep that trust and that deceiving,
    Than doubt one heart, that if believed
      Had blessed one's life with true believing.
_Faith._
BARTHOLOMEW DOWLING.
    Ho! stand to your glasses steady!
      'T is all we have left to prize.
    A cup to the dead already,
      Hurrah for the next that dies!
_Revelry in India._
ALFRED DOMETT. 1811- ----.
    It was the calm and silent night!
      Seven hundred years and fifty-three
    Had Rome been growing up to might,
      And now was queen of land and sea.
    No sound was heard of clashing wars,
      Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain;
    Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and Mars
      Held undisturbed their ancient reign
          In the solemn midnight,
              Centuries ago.
_Christmas Hymn._
JULIA A. FLETCHER (NOW MRS. CARNEY).
    Little drops of water, little grains of sand,
    Make the mighty ocean and the pleasant land.
    So the little minutes, humble though they be,
    Make the mighty ages of eternity.
_Little Things, 1845._
    Little deeds of kindness, little words of love,
    Help to make earth happy like the heaven above.
_Little Things, 1845._
AUSTEN H. LAYARD. ---- -1894.
     I have always believed that success would be the inevitable
     result if the two services, the army and the navy, had fair play,
     and if we sent the right man to fill the right place.
_Speech in Parliament, Jan. 15, 1855._
ROBERT BROWNING. 1812-1890.
                        Any nose
    May ravage with impunity a rose.
_Sordello. Book vi._
    That we devote ourselves to God, is seen
    In living just as though no God there were.
_Paracelsus. Part i._
                              Be sure that God
    Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart.
_Paracelsus. Part i._
    I see my way as birds their trackless way.
    I shall arrive,--what time, what circuit first,
    I ask not; but unless God send his hail
    Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow,
    In some time, his good time, I shall arrive:
    He guides me and the bird. In his good time.
_Paracelsus. Part i._
                 Are there not, dear Michal,
    Two points in the adventure of the diver,
    One, when a beggar he prepares to plunge;
    One, when a prince he rises with his pearl?
    Festus, I plunge.
_Paracelsus. Part i._
                     God is the perfect poet,
    Who in his person acts his own creations.
_Paracelsus. Part ii._
    The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung
    To their first fault, and withered in their pride.
_Paracelsus. Part iv._
    I give the fight up: let there be an end,
    A privacy, an obscure nook for me.
    I want to be forgotten even by God.
_Paracelsus. Part v._
                              Progress is
    The law of life: man is not Man as yet.
_Paracelsus. Part v._
    Say not "a small event!" Why "small"?
    Costs it more pain that this ye call
    A "great event" should come to pass
    From that? Untwine me from the mass
    Of deeds which make up life, one deed
    Power shall fall short in or exceed!
_Pippa Passes. Introduction._
    God 's in his heaven:
    All 's right with the world.
_Pippa Passes. Part i._
    Some unsuspected isle in the far seas,
    Some unsuspected isle in far-off seas.
_Pippa Passes. Part ii._
    In the morning of the world,
    When earth was nigher heaven than now.
_Pippa Passes. Part iii._
    All service ranks the same with God,
    With God, whose puppets, best and worst,
    Are we: there is no last nor first.
_Pippa Passes. Part iv._
    I trust in Nature for the stable laws
    Of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant
    And Autumn garner to the end of time.
    I trust in God,--the right shall be the right
    And other than the wrong, while he endures.
    I trust in my own soul, that can perceive
    The outward and the inward,--Nature's good
    And God's.
_A Soul's Tragedy. Act i._
     Ever judge of men by their professions. For though the bright
     moment of promising is but a moment, and cannot be prolonged, yet
     if sincere in its moment's extravagant goodness, why, trust it,
     and know the man by it, I say,--not by his performance; which is
     half the world's work, interfere as the world needs must with its
     accidents and circumstances: the profession was purely the man's
     own. I judge people by what they might be,--not are, nor will be.
_A Soul's Tragedy. Act ii._
    There 's a woman like a dewdrop, she 's so purer than the purest.
_A Blot in the 'Scutcheon. Act i. Sc. iii._
    When is man strong until he feels alone?
_Colombe's Birthday. Act iii._
      When the fight begins within himself,
    A man 's worth something.
_Men and Women. Bishop Blougram's Apology._
                        The sprinkled isles,
    Lily on lily, that o'erlace the sea.
_Cleon._
    And I have written three books on the soul,
    Proving absurd all written hitherto,
    And putting us to ignorance again.
_Cleon._
    Sappho survives, because we sing her songs;
    And Æschylus, because we read his plays!
_Cleon._
    Rafael made a century of sonnets.
_One Word More. ii._
    Other heights in other lives, God willing.
_One Word More. xii._
    God be thanked, the meanest of his creatures
    Boasts two soul-sides,--one to face the world with,
    One to show a woman when he loves her!
_One Word More. xvii._
    Oh their Rafael of the dear Madonnas,
    Oh their Dante of the dread Inferno,
    Wrote one song--and in my brain I sing it;
    Drew one angel--borne, see, on my bosom!
_One Word More. xix._
                       The lie was dead
    And damned, and truth stood up instead.
_Count Gismond. xiii._
    Over my head his arm he flung
    Against the world.
_Count Gismond. xix._
      Just my vengeance complete,
      The man sprang to his feet,
    Stood erect, caught at God's skirts, and prayed!
    So, I was afraid!
_Instans Tyrannus. vii._
                   Oh never star
    Was lost here but it rose afar.
_Waring. ii._
    Sing, riding 's a joy! For me I ride.
_The last Ride together. vii._
    When the liquor 's out, why clink the cannikin?
_The Flight of the Duchess. xvi._
    That low man seeks a little thing to do,
        Sees it and does it;
    This high man, with a great thing to pursue,
        Dies ere he knows it.
    That low man goes on adding one to one,
        His hundred 's soon hit;
    This high man, aiming at a million,
        Misses an unit.
    That has the world here--should he need the next,
        Let the world mind him!
    This throws himself on God, and unperplexed
        Seeking shall find him.
_A Grammarian's Funeral._
    Lofty designs must close in like effects.
_A Grammarian's Funeral._
    I hear you reproach, "But delay was best,
    For their end was a crime." Oh, a crime will do
    As well, I reply, to serve for a test
    As a virtue golden through and through,
    Sufficient to vindicate itself
    And prove its worth at a moment's view!
         .     .     .     .     .     .
    Let a man contend to the uttermost
    For his life's set prize, be it what it will!
    The counter our lovers staked was lost
    As surely as if it were lawful coin;
    And the sin I impute to each frustrate ghost
    Is--the unlit lamp and the ungirt loin,
    Though the end in sight was a vice, I say.
_The Statue and the Bust._
    Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.
_Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came. xxxiii._
    Just for a handful of silver he left us,
      Just for a riband to stick in his coat.
_The Lost Leader. i._
    We shall march prospering,--not thro' his presence;
      Songs may inspirit us,--not from his lyre;
    Deeds will be done,--while he boasts his quiescence,
      Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire.
_The Lost Leader. ii._
    They are perfect; how else?--they shall never change:
      We are faulty; why not?--we have time in store.
_Old Pictures in Florence. xvi._
               What 's come to perfection perishes.
    Things learned on earth we shall practise in heaven;
      Works done least rapidly Art most cherishes.
_Old Pictures in Florence. xvii._
    Italy, my Italy!
    Queen Mary's saying serves for me
      (When fortune's malice
      Lost her Calais):
    "Open my heart, and you will see
    Graved inside of it 'Italy.'"
_De Gustibus. ii._
    That 's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
    Lest you should think he never could recapture
    The first fine careless rapture.
_Home-Thoughts from Abroad. ii._
    God made all the creatures, and gave them our love and our fear,
    To give sign we and they are his children, one family here.
_Saul. vi._
    How good is man's life, the mere living! how fit to employ
    All the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy!
_Saul. ix._
    'T is not what man does which exalts him, but what man would do.
_Saul. xvii._
    O woman-country![647-1] wooed not wed,
      Loved all the more by earth's male-lands,
    Laid to their hearts instead.
_By the Fireside. vi._
                      That great brow
    And the spirit-small hand propping it.
_By the Fireside. xxiii._
    If two lives join, there is oft a scar.
      They are one and one, with a shadowy third;
    One near one is too far.
_By the Fireside. xlvi._
                     Only I discern
    Infinite passion, and the pain
    Of finite hearts that yearn.
_Two in the Campagna. xii._
    Round and round, like a dance of snow
    In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go
    Floating the women faded for ages,
    Sculptured in stone on the poet's pages.
_Women and Roses._
    How he lies in his rights of a man!
    Death has done all death can.
    And absorbed in the new life he leads,
    He recks not, he heeds
    Nor his wrong nor my vengeance; both strike
    On his senses alike,
    And are lost in the solemn and strange
    Surprise of the change.
_After._
    Ah, did you once see Shelley plain,
      And did he stop and speak to you,
    And did you speak to him again?
      How strange it seems, and new!
_Memorabilia. i._
    He who did well in war just earns the right
    To begin doing well in peace.
_Luria. Act ii._
    And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift,
    Is quick and transient,--comes, and lo! is gone,
    While Northern thought is slow and durable.
_Luria. Act v._
    A people is but the attempt of many
    To rise to the completer life of one;
    And those who live as models for the mass
    Are singly of more value than they all.
_Luria. Act v._
               I count life just a stuff
    To try the soul's strength on.
_In a Balcony._
    Was there nought better than to enjoy?
      No feat which, done, would make time break,
      And let us pent-up creatures through
      Into eternity, our due?
    No forcing earth teach heaven's employ?
_Dîs Aliter Visum; or, Le Byron de nos Jours._
    There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live as before;
      The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound;
    What was good shall be good, with for evil so much good more;
      On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect round.
_Abt Vogler. ix._
             Then welcome each rebuff
             That turns earth's smoothness rough,
    Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go!
             Be our joys three-parts pain!
             Strive, and hold cheap the strain;
    Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!
_Rabbi Ben Ezra._
    What I aspired to be,
    And was not, comforts me.
_Rabbi Ben Ezra._
    Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand sure.
_Rabbi Ben Ezra._
    For life, with all it yields of joy and woe,
    And hope and fear (believe the aged friend),
    Is just our chance o' the prize of learning love,
    How love might be, hath been indeed, and is.
_A Death in the Desert._
                             The body sprang
    At once to the height, and stayed; but the soul,--no!
_A Death in the Desert._
    What? Was man made a wheel-work to wind up,
    And be discharged, and straight wound up anew?
    No! grown, his growth lasts; taught, he ne'er forgets:
    May learn a thousand things, not twice the same.
_A Death in the Desert._
    For I say this is death and the sole death,
    When a man's loss comes to him from his gain,
    Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance,
    And lack of love from love made manifest.
_A Death in the Desert._
    Progress, man's distinctive mark alone,
    Not God's, and not the beasts: God is, they are;
    Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be.
_A Death in the Desert._
                          The ultimate, angels' law,
    Indulging every instinct of the soul
    There where law, life, joy, impulse are one thing!
_A Death in the Desert._
    How sad and bad and mad it was!
      But then, how it was sweet!
_Confessions. ix._
    So may a glory from defect arise.
_Deaf and Dumb._
    This could but have happened once,
      And we missed it, lost it forever.
_Youth and Art. xvii._
    Fear death?--to feel the fog in my throat,
                The mist in my face.
          .      .      .      .      .      .      .
    No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers,
                The heroes of old;
    Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears
                Of pain, darkness, and cold.
_Prospice._
    It 's wiser being good than bad;
      It 's safer being meek than fierce;
    It 's fitter being sane than mad.
      My own hope is, a sun will pierce
    The thickest cloud earth ever stretched;
      That after Last returns the First,
    Though a wide compass round be fetched;
      That what began best can't end worst,
      Nor what God blessed once prove accurst.
_Apparent Failure. vii._
    In the great right of an excessive wrong.
_The Ring and the Book. The other Half-Rome. Line 1055._
                   Was never evening yet
    But seemed far beautifuller than its day.
_The Ring and the Book. Pompilia. Line 357._
                  The curious crime, the fine
    Felicity and flower of wickedness.
_The Ring and the Book. The Pope. Line 590._
                 Of what I call God,
    And fools call Nature.
_The Ring and the Book. The Pope. Line 1073._
    Why comes temptation, but for man to meet
    And master and make crouch beneath his foot,
    And so be pedestaled in triumph?
_The Ring and the Book. The Pope. Line 1185._
    White shall not neutralize the black, nor good
    Compensate bad in man, absolve him so:
    Life's business being just the terrible choice.
_The Ring and the Book. The Pope. Line 1236._
          It is the glory and good of Art
    That Art remains the one way possible
    Of speaking truth,--to mouths like mine, at least.
_The Book and the Ring. The Pope. Line 842._
    Thy[651-1] rare gold ring of verse (the poet praised)
    Linking our England to his Italy.
_The Ring and the Book. The Pope. Line 873._
    But how carve way i' the life that lies before,
    If bent on groaning ever for the past?
_Balaustion's Adventure._
    Better have failed in the high aim, as I,
    Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed,
    As, God be thanked! I do not.
_The Inn Album. iv._
    Have you found your life distasteful?
      My life did, and does, smack sweet.
    Was your youth of pleasure wasteful?
      Mine I saved and hold complete.
    Do your joys with age diminish?
      When mine fail me, I 'll complain.
    Must in death your daylight finish?
      My sun sets to rise again.
_At the "Mermaid." Stanza 10._
                     "With this same key
    Shakespeare unlocked his heart"[652-1] once more!
    Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!
_House. x._
    God's justice, tardy though it prove perchance,
    Rests never on the track until it reach
    Delinquency.
_Cenciaja._
CHARLES DICKENS. 1812-1870.
     A demd, damp, moist, unpleasant body!
_Nicholas Nickleby. Chap. xxxiv._
     My life is one demd horrid grind.
_Nicholas Nickleby. Chap. lxiv._
     In a Pickwickian sense.
_Pickwick Papers. Chap. i._
    Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,
      That creepeth o'er ruins old!
    Of right choice food are his meals, I ween,
      In his cell so lone and cold.
    Creeping where no life is seen,
      A rare old plant is the ivy green.
_Pickwick Papers. Chap. vi._
     He 's tough, ma'am,--tough is J. B.; tough and devilish sly.
_Dombey and Son. Chap. vii._
     When found, make a note of.
_Dombey and Son. Chap. xv._
     The bearings of this observation lays in the application on it.
_Dombey and Son. Chap. xxiii._
     Barkis is willin'.
_David Copperfield. Chap. v._
     Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prism, all very good words
     for the lips,--especially prunes and prism.
_Little Dorrit. Book ii. Chap. v._
     Whatever was required to be done, the Circumlocution Office was
     beforehand with all the public departments in the art of
     perceiving HOW NOT TO DO IT.
_Little Dorrit. Book ii. Chap. x._
     In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile.
_Christmas Carol. Stave 2._
CHRISTOPHER P. CRANCH. 1813- ----.
    Thought is deeper than all speech,
      Feeling deeper than all thought;
    Souls to souls can never teach
      What unto themselves was taught.
_Stanzas._
    We are spirits clad in veils;
      Man by man was never seen;
    All our deep communing fails
      To remove the shadowy screen.
_Stanzas._
F. W. FABER. 1814-1863.
    For right is right, since God is God,
      And right the day must win;
    To doubt would be disloyalty,
      To falter would be sin.
_The Right must win._
    Labour itself is but a sorrowful song,
    The protest of the weak against the strong.
_The Sorrowful World._
CHARLES MACKAY. 1814- ----.
    Cleon hath a million acres,--ne'er a one have I;
    Cleon dwelleth in a palace,--in a cottage I.
_Cleon and I._
    But the sunshine aye shall light the sky,
      As round and round we run;
    And the truth shall ever come uppermost,
      And justice shall be done.
_Eternal Justice. Stanza 4._
    Aid the dawning, tongue and pen;
    Aid it, hopes of honest men!
_Clear the Way._
    Some love to roam o'er the dark sea's foam,
    Where the shrill winds whistle free.
_Some love to roam._
    There 's a good time coming, boys!
      A good time coming.
_The Good Time coming._
    Old Tubal Cain was a man of might
    In the days when earth was young.
_Tubal Cain._
ELLEN STURGIS HOOPER. 1816-1841.
    I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty;
    I woke, and found that life was Duty.
    Was thy dream then a shadowy lie?
    Toil on, poor heart, unceasingly;
    And thou shalt find thy dream to be
    A truth and noonday light to thee.
_Life a Duty._
PHILIP JAMES BAILEY. 1816- ----.
    We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;
    In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
    We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives
    Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
    Life 's but a means unto an end; that end
    Beginning, mean, and end to all things,--God.
_Festus. Scene, A Country Town._
    Poets are all who love, who feel great truths,
    And tell them; and the truth of truths is love.
_Scene, Another and a Better World._
    America! half-brother of the world!
    With something good and bad of every land.
_Scene, The Surface._
ELIZA COOK. 1817- ----.
    I love it, I love it, and who shall dare
    To chide me for loving that old arm-chair?
_The Old Arm-Chair._
    How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start
    When memory plays an old tune on the heart!
_Old Dobbin._
NATHANIEL P. WILLIS. 1817-1867.
     At present there is no distinction among the upper ten thousand
     of the city.
_Necessity for a Promenade Drive._
    For it stirs the blood in an old man's heart,
      And makes his pulses fly,
    To catch the thrill of a happy voice
      And the light of a pleasant eye.
_Saturday Afternoon._
    It is the month of June,
      The month of leaves and roses,
    When pleasant sights salute the eyes,
      And pleasant scents the noses.
_The Month of June._
    Let us weep in our darkness, but weep not for him!
    Not for him who, departing, leaves millions in tears!
    Not for him who has died full of honor and years!
    Not for him who ascended Fame's ladder so high
    From the round at the top he has stepped to the sky.
_The Death of Harrison._
WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING. 1817- ----.
    I laugh, for hope hath happy place with me;
    If my bark sinks, 't is to another sea.
_A Poet's Hope._
    I sing New England, as she lights her fire
    In every Prairie's midst; and where the bright
    Enchanting stars shine pure through Southern night,
    She still is there, the guardian on the tower,
    To open for the world a purer hour.
_New England._
    Most joyful let the Poet be;
    It is through him that all men see.
_The Poet of the Old and New Times._
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 1819-1891.
    Earth's noblest thing,--a woman perfected.
_Irené._
    Be noble! and the nobleness that lies
    In other men, sleeping but never dead,
    Will rise in majesty to meet thine own.
_Sonnet iv._
    Great truths are portions of the soul of man;
    Great souls are portions of eternity.
_Sonnet vi._
    To win the secret of a weed's plain heart.
_Sonnet xxv._
    Two meanings have our lightest fantasies,
    One of the flesh, and of the spirit one.
_Sonnet xxxiv._ (_Ed. 1844._)
    All thoughts that mould the age begin
    Deep down within the primitive soul.
_An Incident in a Railroad Car._
    It may be glorious to write
    Thoughts that shall glad the two or three
    High souls, like those far stars that come in sight
    Once in a century.
_An Incident in a Railroad Car._
    No man is born into the world whose work
    Is not born with him. There is always work,
    And tools to work withal, for those who will;
    And blessed are the horny hands of toil.
_A Glance behind the Curtain._
    They are slaves who fear to speak
    For the fallen and the weak.
         .     .     .     .     .
    They are slaves who dare not be
    In the right with two or three.
_Stanzas on Freedom._
    Endurance is the crowning quality,
    And patience all the passion of great hearts.
_Columbus._
               One day with life and heart
    Is more than time enough to find a world.
_Columbus._
    Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide,
    In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side;
    Some great cause, God's new Messiah offering each the bloom or blight,
    Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the right;
    And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light.
_The Present Crisis._
    Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne.
_The Present Crisis._
    Then to side with Truth is noble when we share her wretched crust,
    Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and 't is prosperous to be just;
    Then it is the brave man chooses, while the coward stands aside,
    Doubting in his abject spirit, till his Lord is crucified.
_The Present Crisis._
    Before man made us citizens, great Nature made us men.
_On the Capture of Fugitive Slaves near Washington._
    Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way,
    Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold.
_To the Dandelion._
    This child is not mine as the first was;
      I cannot sing it to rest;
    I cannot lift it up fatherly,
      And bless it upon my breast.
    Yet it lies in my little one's cradle,
      And sits in my little one's chair,
    And the light of the heaven she 's gone to
      Transfigures its golden hair.
_The Changeling._
    The thing we long for, that we are
    For one transcendent moment.
_Longing._
    She doeth little kindnesses
    Which most leave undone, or despise.
_My Love. iv._
    Not only around our infancy
    Doth heaven with all its splendors lie;
    Daily, with souls that cringe and plot,
    We Sinais climb and know it not.
_The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First._
      'T is heaven alone that is given away;
    'T is only God may be had for the asking.
_The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First._
    And what is so rare as a day in June?
      Then, if ever, come perfect days;
    Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,
      And over it softly her warm ear lays.
_The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First._
    Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it;
    We are happy now because God wills it.
_The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First._
    Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how.
_The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First._
    Who gives himself with his alms feeds three,
    Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me.
_The Vision of Sir Launfal. Part Second. viii._
    There comes Emerson first, whose rich words, every one,
    Are like gold nails in temples to hang trophies on.
_A Fable for Critics._
    Nature fits all her children with something to do.
_A Fable for Critics._
    Ez fer war, I call it murder,
      There you hev it plain an' flat;
    I don't want to go no furder
      Than my Testyment fer that.
         .     .     .     .     .
    An' you 've gut to git up airly
      Ef you want to take in God.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. i._
    Laborin' man an' laborin' woman
      Hev one glory an' one shame;
    Ev'y thin' thet 's done inhuman
      Injers all on 'em the same.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. i._
    This goin' ware glory waits ye haint one agreeable feetur.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. ii._
    Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man;
      He 's ben on all sides thet give places or pelf;
    But consistency still wuz a part of his plan,
      He 's ben true to _one_ party, an' thet is himself.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. ii._
    We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. iii._
                       But John P.
                       Robinson, he
    Sez they did n't know everythin' down in Judee.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. iii._
    I _don't_ believe in princerple,
      But oh I _du_ in interest.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. vi._
                       Of my merit
      On thet pint you yourself may jedge;
    All is, I never drink no sperit,
      Nor I haint never signed no pledge.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. vii._
    Ez to my princerples, I glory
      In hevin' nothin' o' the sort.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. vii._
    Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown
      An' peeked in thru' the winder,
    An' there sot Huldy all alone,
      'Ith no one nigh to hender.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'._
    The very room, coz she was in,
      Seemed warm from floor to ceilin'.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'._
    'T was kin' o' kingdom-come to look
      On sech a blessed cretur.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'._
    His heart kep' goin' pity-pat,
      But hern went pity-Zekle.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'._
    All kin' o' smily round the lips,
      An' teary round the lashes.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'._
    Like streams that keep a summer mind
      Snow-hid in Jenooary.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'._
    Our Pilgrim stock wuz pithed with hardihood.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. vi._
    Soft-heartedness, in times like these,
      Shows sof'ness in the upper story.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. vii._
    Earth's biggest country 's gut her soul,
      An' risen up earth's greatest nation.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. vii._
    Under the yaller pines I house,
      When sunshine makes 'em all sweet-scented,
    An' hear among their furry boughs
      The baskin' west-wind purr contented.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. x._
    Wut 's words to them whose faith an' truth
      On war's red techstone rang true metal;
    Who ventered life an' love an' youth
      For the gret prize o' death in battle?
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. x._
    From lower to the higher next,
    Not to the top, is Nature's text;
    And embryo Good, to reach full stature,
    Absorbs the Evil in its nature.
_Festina Lente. Moral._
    Though old the thought and oft exprest,
    'T is his at last who says it best.
_For an Autograph._
    Nature, they say, doth dote,
      And cannot make a man
      Save on some worn-out plan,
    Repeating us by rote.
_Ode at the Harvard Commemoration, July 21, 1865._
    Here was a type of the true elder race,
    And one of Plutarch's men talked with us face to face.
_Ode at the Harvard Commemoration, July 21, 1865._
    Safe in the hallowed quiets of the past.
_The Cathedral._
    The one thing finished in this hasty world.
_The Cathedral._
    These pearls of thought in Persian gulfs were bred,
    Each softly lucent as a rounded moon;
    The diver Omar plucked them from their bed,
    Fitzgerald strung them on an English thread.
_In a copy of Omar Khayyám._
    The clear, sweet singer with the crown of snow
    Not whiter than the thoughts that housed below.
_To George William Curtis._
    But life is sweet, though all that makes it sweet
    Lessen like sound of friends' departing feet;
    And Death is beautiful as feet of friend
    Coming with welcome at our journey's end.
    For me Fate gave, whate'er she else denied,
    A nature sloping to the southern side;
    I thank her for it, though when clouds arise
    Such natures double-darken gloomy skies.
_To George William Curtis._
    In life's small things be resolute and great
    To keep thy muscle trained: know'st thou when Fate
    Thy measure takes, or when she 'll say to thee,
    "I find thee worthy; do this deed for me"?
_Epigram._
    In vain we call old notions fudge,
      And bend our conscience to our dealing;
    The Ten Commandments will not budge,
      And stealing will continue stealing.
_Motto of the American Copyright League_ (written Nov. 20, 1885).
     Solitude is as needful to the imagination as society is wholesome
     for the character.
_Among my Books. First Series. Dryden._
     A wise scepticism is the first attribute of a good critic.
_Among my Books. First Series. Shakespeare Once More._
     One thorn of experience is worth a whole wilderness of warning.
_Among my Books. First Series. Shakespeare Once More._
     Aspiration sees only one side of every question; possession many.
_Among my Books. First Series. New England Two Centuries ago._
     Truly there is a tide in the affairs of men; but there is no
     gulf-stream setting forever in one direction.
_Among my Books. First Series. New England Two Centuries ago._
     There is no better ballast for keeping the mind steady on its
     keel, and saving it from all risk of crankiness, than business.
_Among my Books. First Series. New England Two Centuries ago._
     Puritanism, believing itself quick with the seed of religious
     liberty, laid, without knowing it, the egg of democracy.
_Among my Books. First Series. New England Two Centuries ago._
     It was in making education not only common to all, but in some
     sense compulsory on all, that the destiny of the free republics
     of America was practically settled.
_Among my Books. First Series. New England Two Centuries ago._
     Talent is that which is in a man's power; genius is that in whose
     power a man is.
_Among my Books. First Series. Rousseau and the Sentimentalists._
     There is no work of genius which has not been the delight of
     mankind, no word of genius to which the human heart and soul have
     not sooner or later responded.
_Among my Books. First Series. Rousseau and the Sentimentalists._
     Every man feels instinctively that all the beautiful sentiments
     in the world weigh less than a single lovely action.
_Among my Books. First Series. Rousseau and the Sentimentalists._
     Sentiment is intellectualized emotion,--emotion precipitated, as
     it were, in pretty crystals by the fancy.
_Among my Books. First Series. Rousseau and the Sentimentalists._
     No man can produce great things who is not thoroughly sincere in
     dealing with himself.
_Among my Books. First Series. Rousseau and the Sentimentalists._
     In all literary history there is no such figure as Dante, no such
     homogeneousness of life and works, such loyalty to ideas, such
     sublime irrecognition of the unessential.
_Among my Books. Second Series. Dante._
     Whoever can endure unmixed delight, whoever can tolerate music
     and painting and poetry all in one, whoever wishes to be rid of
     thought and to let the busy anvils of the brain be silent for a
     time, let him read in the "Faery Queen."
_Among my Books. Second Series. Spenser._
     The only faith that wears well and holds its color in all
     weathers, is that which is woven of conviction and set with the
     sharp mordant of experience.
_My Study Windows. Abraham Lincoln, 1864._
     It is by presence of mind in untried emergencies that the native
     metal of a man is tested.
_My Study Windows. Abraham Lincoln, 1864._
     What a sense of security in an old book which Time has criticised
     for us!
_Library of Old Authors._
     There is no good in arguing with the inevitable. The only
     argument available with an east wind is to put on your overcoat.
_Democracy and Addresses._
     Let us be of good cheer, however, remembering that the
     misfortunes hardest to bear are those which never come.
_Democracy and Addresses._
     The soil out of which such men as he are made is good to be born
     on, good to live on, good to die for and to be buried in.
_Garfield._
     A great man is made up of qualities that meet or make great
     occasions.
_Garfield._
     It ["The Ancient Mariner"] is marvellous in its mastery over that
     delightfully fortuitous inconsequence that is the adamantine
     logic of dreamland.
_Coleridge._
     He gives us the very quintessence of perception,--the clearly
     crystalized precipitation of all that is most precious in the
     ferment of impression after the impertinent and obtrusive
     particulars have evaporated from the memory.
_Coleridge._
     If I were asked what book is better than a cheap book, I should
     answer that there is one book better than a cheap book,--and that
     is a book honestly come by.
_Before the U. S. Senate Committee on Patents, Jan. 29, 1886._
CHARLES KINGSLEY. 1819-1875.
    O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
      And call the cattle home,
    And call the cattle home,
      Across the sands o' Dee!
_The Sands of Dee._
    Men must work, and women must weep.
_The Three Fishers._
    Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
      Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:
    And so make life, death, and that vast forever
            One grand sweet song.
_A Farewell._
    The world goes up and the world goes down,
      And the sunshine follows the rain;
    And yesterday's sneer and yesterday's frown
            Can never come over again.
_Dolcino to Margaret._
ULYSSES S. GRANT. 1822-1885.
     No other terms than unconditional and immediate surrender. I
     propose to move immediately upon your works.
_To Gen. S. B. Buckner, Fort Donelson, Feb. 16, 1862._
     I propose to fight it out on this line, if it takes all summer.
_Despatch to Washington. Before Spottsylvania Court House, May 11, 1864._
     Let us have peace.
_Accepting a Nomination for the Presidency, May 29, 1868._
     I know no method to secure the repeal of bad or obnoxious laws so
     effectual as their strict construction.
_From the Inaugural Address, March 4, 1869._
     Let no guilty man escape, if it can be avoided. No personal
     considerations should stand in the way of performing a duty.
_Indorsement of a Letter relating to the Whiskey Ring, July 29, 1875._
MATTHEW ARNOLD. 1822-1888.
    Others abide our question. Thou art free.
    We ask and ask. Thou smilest and art still,
    Out-topping knowledge.
_Shakespeare._
    Strew on her roses, roses,
      And never a spray of yew!
    In quiet she reposes;
      Ah, would that I did too!
_Requiescat._
    To hear the world applaud the hollow ghost
    Which blamed the living man.
_Growing Old._
    Time may restore us in his course
    Goethe's sage mind and Byron's force;
    But where will Europe's latter hour
    Again find Wordsworth's healing power?
_Memorial Verses._
    Wandering between two worlds,--one dead,
    The other powerless to be born.
_Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse._
    The kings of modern thought are dumb.
_Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse._
     _Philistine_ must have originally meant, in the mind of those who
     invented the nickname, a strong, dogged, unenlightened opponent
     of the children of the light.
_Essays in Criticism. Heinrich Heine._
     There is no better motto which it [culture] can have than these
     words of Bishop Wilson, "To make reason and the will of God
     prevail."
_Culture and Anarchy. P. 8._
RUTHERFORD B. HAYES. 1822- ----.
     He serves his party best who serves the country best.
_Inaugural Address, March 5, 1877._
LEONARD HEATH.
    On a lone barren isle, where the wild roaring billows
      Assail the stern rock, and the loud tempests rave,
    The hero lies still, while the dew-drooping willows,
      Like fond weeping mourners, lean over his grave.
    The lightnings may flash and the loud thunders rattle;
      He heeds not, he hears not, he 's free from all pain;
    He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle;
     No sound can awake him to glory again!
_The Grave of Bonaparte._
    Yet spirit immortal, the tomb cannot bind thee,
      But like thine own eagle that soars to the sun
    Thou springest from bondage and leavest behind thee
      A name which before thee no mortal hath won.
    Tho' nations may combat, and war's thunders rattle,
      No more on thy steed wilt thou sweep o'er the plain:
    Thou sleep'st thy last sleep, thou hast fought thy last battle,
      No sound can awake thee to glory again.
_The Grave of Bonaparte._
BAYARD TAYLOR. 1825-1878.
          Till the sun grows cold,
          And the stars are old,
    And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold.
_Bedouin Song._
    They sang of love, and not of fame;
      Forgot was Britain's glory;
    Each heart recall'd a different name,
      But all sang Annie Lawrie.
_The Song of the Camp._
    The bravest are the tenderest,
    The loving are the daring.
_The Song of the Camp._
DINAH M. MULOCK. 1826- ----.
    Two hands upon the breast,
      And labour 's done;
    Two pale feet crossed in rest,
      The race is won.
_Now and Afterwards._
ALEXANDER SMITH. 1830-1867.
    Like a pale martyr in his shirt of fire.
_A Life Drama. Sc. ii._
    In winter, when the dismal rain
      Comes down in slanting lines,
    And Wind, that grand old harper, smote
      His thunder-harp of pines.
_A Life Drama. Sc. ii._
    A poem round and perfect as a star.
_A Life Drama. Sc. ii._
H. F. CHORLEY. 1831-1872.
    A song to the oak, the brave old oak,
      Who hath ruled in the greenwood long!
_The Brave Old Oak._
    Then here 's to the oak, the brave old oak,
      Who stands in his pride alone!
    And still flourish he a hale green tree
      When a hundred years are gone!
_The Brave Old Oak._
ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN. 1832- ----.
    Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight!
    Make me a child again, just for to-night!
_Rock me to sleep._
    Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
    I am so weary of toil and of tears,
    Toil without recompense, tears all in vain!
    Take them, and give me my childhood again!
_Rock me to sleep._
BISHOP HENRY C. POTTER. 1835- ----.
     We have exchanged the Washingtonian dignity for the Jeffersonian
     simplicity, which was in truth only another name for the
     Jacksonian vulgarity.
_Address at the Washington Centennial Service in St. Paul's Chapel, New
York, April 30, 1889._
     If there be no nobility of descent, all the more indispensable is
     it that there should be nobility of ascent,--a character in them
     that bear rule so fine and high and pure that as men come within
     the circle of its influence they involuntarily pay homage to that
     which is the one pre-eminent distinction, the royalty of virtue.
_Address at the Washington Centennial Service in St. Paul's Chapel, New
York, April 30, 1889._
FRANCIS M. FINCH.
    Under the sod and the dew,
      Waiting the judgment day;
    Love and tears for the Blue,
      Tears and love for the Gray.
_The Blue and the Gray._
GROVER CLEVELAND. 1837- ----.
     After an existence of nearly twenty years of almost innocuous
     desuetude these laws are brought forth.
_Message, March 1, 1886._
     It is a condition which confronts us--not a theory.
_Annual Message, 1887._
     I have considered the pension list of the republic a roll of
     honor.
_Veto of Dependent Pension Bill, July 5, 1888._
     Party honesty is party expediency.
_Interview in New York Commercial Advertiser, Sept. 19, 1889._
FRANCIS BRET HARTE. 1839- ----.
    Which I wish to remark,
      And my language is plain,
    That for ways that are dark
      And for tricks that are vain,
    The heathen Chinee is peculiar.
_Plain Language from Truthful James._
    Ah Sin was his name.
_Plain Language from Truthful James._
    With the smile that was childlike and bland.
_Plain Language from Truthful James._
FRANCIS W. BOURDILLON. 1852- ----.
    The night has a thousand eyes,
      And the day but one;
    Yet the light of the bright world dies
      With the dying sun.
    The mind has a thousand eyes,
      And the heart but one;
    Yet the light of a whole life dies
      When love is done.
_Light._
MISCELLANEOUS.
     It may well wait a century for a reader, as God has waited six
     thousand years for an observer.
JOHN KEPLER (1571-1630). _Martyrs of Science_ (_Brewster_). _P. 197._
    Needle in a bottle of hay.
FIELD (---- -1641): _A Woman's a Weathercock._ (_Reprint, 1612, p. 20._)
    He is a fool who thinks by force or skill
    To turn the current of a woman's will.
SAMUEL TUKE (---- -1673): _Adventures of Five Hours. Act v. Sc. 3._
    Laugh and be fat.
JOHN TAYLOR (1580?-1684). Title of a Tract, 1615.
    Diamond cut diamond.
JOHN FORD (1586-1639): _The Lover's Melancholy. Act i. Sc. 1._
    A liberty to that only which is good, just, and honest.
JOHN WINTHROP (1588-1649): _Life and Letters. Vol. ii. p. 341._
    I preached as never sure to preach again,
    And as a dying man to dying men.
RICHARD BAXTER (1615-1691): _Love breathing Thanks and Praise._
    Though this may be play to you,
    'T is death to us.
ROGER L' ESTRANGE (1616-1704): _Fables from Several Authors. Fable 398._
    And there 's a lust in man no charm can tame
    Of loudly publishing our neighbour's shame;
    On eagles' wings immortal scandals fly,
    While virtuous actions are but born and die.
STEPHEN HARVEY (_circa_ 1627): _Juvenal, Satire ix._
    May I govern my passion with absolute sway,
    And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away.
WALTER POPE (1630-1714): _The Old Man's Wish._
    When change itself can give no more,
    'T is easy to be true.
CHARLES SEDLEY (1639-1701): _Reasons for Constancy._
    The real Simon Pure.
SUSANNAH CENTLIVRE (1667-1723): _A bold Stroke for a Wife._
    When all the blandishments of life are gone,
    The coward sneaks to death, the brave live on.
GEORGE SEWELL (---- -1726): _The Suicide._
    Studious of ease, and fond of humble things.
AMBROSE PHILLIPS (1671-1749): _From Holland to a Friend in England._
    My galligaskins, that have long withstood
    The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts,
    By time subdued (what will not time subdue!),
    A horrid chasm disclosed.
JOHN PHILIPS (1676-1708): _The Splendid Shilling. Line 121._
    For twelve honest men have decided the cause,
    Who are judges alike of the facts and the laws.
WILLIAM PULTENEY (1682-1764): _The Honest Jury._
    Farewell to Lochaber, farewell to my Jean,
    Where heartsome wi' thee I hae mony days been;
    For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more,
    We 'll maybe return to Lochaber no more.
ALLAN RAMSAY (1686-1758): _Lochaber no More._
    Busy, curious, thirsty fly,
    Drink with me, and drink as I.
WILLIAM OLDYS (1696-1761): _On a Fly drinking out of a Cup of Ale._
    Thus Raleigh, thus immortal Sidney shone
    (Illustrious names!) in great Eliza's days.
THOMAS EDWARDS (1699-1757): _Canons of Criticism._
    One kind kiss before we part,
      Drop a tear and bid adieu;
    Though we sever, my fond heart
      Till we meet shall pant for you.
ROBERT DODSLEY (1703-1764): _The Parting Kiss._
    A charge to keep I have,
      A God to glorify;
    A never dying soul to save,
      And fit it for the sky.
CHARLES WESLEY: _Christian Fidelity._
    Love divine, all love excelling,
    Joy of heaven to earth come down.
_Divine Love._
                Of right and wrong he taught
    Truths as refined as ever Athens heard;
    And (strange to tell!) he practised what he preached.
JOHN ARMSTRONG (1709-1779): _The Art of Preserving Health. Book iv. Line
301._
    Gentle shepherd, tell me where.
SAMUEL HOWARD (1710-1782).
    Pray, Goody, please to moderate the rancour of your tongue!
    Why flash those sparks of fury from your eyes?
    Remember, when the judgment 's weak the prejudice is strong.
KANE O'HARA (---- -1782): _Midas. Act i. Sc. 4._
    Where passion leads or prudence points the way.
ROBERT LOWTH (1710-1787): _Choice of Hercules, i._
    And he that will this health deny,
    Down among the dead men let him lie.
---- DYER (published in the early part of the reign of George I.).
    Each cursed his fate that thus their project crossed;
    How hard their lot who neither won nor lost!
RICHARD GRAVES (1715-1804): _The Festoon_ (1767).
    Cease, rude Boreas, blustering railer!
      List, ye landsmen all, to me;
    Messmates, hear a brother sailor
      Sing the dangers of the sea.
GEORGE A. STEVENS (1720-1784): _The Storm._
    That man may last, but never lives,
    Who much receives, but nothing gives;
    Whom none can love, whom none can thank,
    Creation's blot, creation's blank.
THOMAS GIBBONS (1720-1785): _When Jesus dwelt._
     In this awfully stupendous manner, at which Reason stands aghast,
     and Faith herself is half confounded, was the grace of God to man
     at length manifested.
RICHARD HURD (1720-1808): _Sermons. Vol. ii. p. 287._
     There is such a choice of difficulties that I am myself at a loss
     how to determine.
JAMES WOLFE (1726-1759): _Despatch to Pitt, Sept. 2, 1759._
    Kathleen mavourneen! the grey dawn is breaking,
    The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill.
ANNE CRAWFORD (1734-1801): _Kathleen Mavourneen._
     Who can refute a sneer?
WILLIAM PALEY (1743-1805): _Moral Philosophy. Vol. ii. Book v. Chap. 9._
     Why should the Devil have all the good tunes?
ROWLAND HILL (1744-1833).
    Ho! why dost thou shiver and shake, Gaffer Grey?
    And why does thy nose look so blue?
THOMAS HOLCROFT (1745-1809): _Gaffer Grey._
     Millions for defence, but not one cent for tribute.
CHARLES COTESWORTH PINCKNEY (1746-1825),--when Ambassador to the French
Republic, 1796.
    And ye sall walk in silk attire,
      And siller hae to spare,
    Gin ye 'll consent to be his bride,
      Nor think o' Donald mair.
SUSANNA BLAMIRE (1747-1794): _The Siller Croun._
    A glass is good, and a lass is good,
      And a pipe to smoke in cold weather;
    The world is good, and the people are good,
      And we 're all good fellows together.
JOHN O'KEEFE (1747-1833): _Sprigs of Laurel. Act ii. Sc. 1._
    The moon had climb'd the highest hill
      Which rises o'er the source of Dee,
    And from the eastern summit shed
      Her silver light on tower and tree.
JOHN LOWE (1750- ----): _Mary's Dream._
    Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,
    The queen of the world and child of the skies!
    Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold,
    While ages on ages thy splendors unfold.
TIMOTHY DWIGHT (1752-1817): _Columbia._
    Lord, dismiss us with thy blessing,
      Hope, and comfort from above;
    Let us each, thy peace possessing,
      Triumph in redeeming love.
ROBERT HAWKER (1753-1827): _Benediction._
    Roy's wife of Aldivalloch,
    Wat ye how she cheated me,
    As I came o'er the braes of Balloch?
ANNE GRANT (1755-1838): _Roy's Wife._
    Bounding billows, cease your motion,
    Bear me not so swiftly o'er.
MARY ROBINSON (1758-1799): _Bounding Billows._
    While Thee I seek, protecting Power,
      Be my vain wishes stilled;
    And may this consecrated hour
      With better hopes be filled.
HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS (1762-1827): _Trust in Providence._
    The glory dies not, and the grief is past.
SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES (1762-1837): _Sonnet on the Death of Sir Walter
Scott._
    Oh swiftly glides the bonnie boat,
      Just parted from the shore,
    And to the fisher's chorus-note
      Soft moves the dipping oar.
JOANNA BAILLIE (1762-1857): _Oh swiftly glides the Bonnie Boat._
    'T was whisper'd in heaven, 't was mutter'd in hell,
    And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell;
    On the confines of earth 't was permitted to rest,
    And the depths of the ocean its presence confess'd.
CATHERINE M. FANSHAWE (1764-1834): _Enigma. The letter H._
    Oh, it 's a snug little island!
    A right little, tight little island.
THOMAS DIBDIN (1771-1841): _The snug little Island._
    And ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
    While the earth bears a plant or the sea rolls its waves.
ROBERT TREAT PAINE (1772-1811): _Adams and Liberty._
     They [the blacks] had no rights which the white man was bound to
     respect.
ROGER B. TANEY (1777-1864): _The Dred Scott Case_ (Howard, Rep. 19, p.
     To make a mountain of a mole-hill.
HENRY ELLIS (1777-1869): _Original Letters. Second Series, p. 312._
    March to the battle-field,
      The foe is now before us;
    Each heart is Freedom's shield,
      And heaven is shining o'er us.
B. E. O'MEARA (1778-1836): _March to the Battle-Field._
     Our country! In her intercourse with foreign nations may she
     always be in the right; but our country, right or wrong.
STEPHEN DECATUR (1779-1820): _Toast given at Norfolk, April, 1816._
    Here shall the Press the People's right maintain,
    Unaw'd by influence and unbrib'd by gain;
    Here patriot Truth her glorious precepts draw,
    Pledg'd to Religion, Liberty, and Law.
JOSEPH STORY (1779-1845): _Motto of the "Salem Register."_ (Life of
Story, Vol. i. p. 127.)
     Let there be no inscription upon my tomb; let no man write my
     epitaph: no man can write my epitaph.
ROBERT EMMET (1780-1803): _Speech on his Trial and Conviction for High
Treason, September, 1803._
     Imitation is the sincerest flattery.
C. C. COLTON (1780-1832): _The Lacon._
    Behold how brightly breaks the morning!
    Though bleak our lot, our hearts are warm.
JAMES KENNEY (1780-1849): _Behold how brightly breaks._
    Unthinking, idle, wild, and young,
    I laugh'd and danc'd and talk'd and sung.
PRINCESS AMELIA (1783-1810).
           A sound so fine, there 's nothing lives
    'Twixt it and silence.
JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES (1784-1862): _Virginius, Act v. Sc. 2._
    We have met the enemy, and they are ours.
OLIVER H. PERRY (1785-1820): _Letter to General Harrison_ (dated "United
States Brig Niagara. Off the Western Sisters. Sept. 10, 1813, 4 P. M.").
    Not she with trait'rous kiss her Saviour stung,
    Not she denied him with unholy tongue;
    She, while apostles shrank, could danger brave,
    Last at his cross and earliest at his grave.
EATON S. BARRETT (1785-1820): _Woman, Part i._ (ed. 1822).
     They see nothing wrong in the rule that to the victors belong the
     spoils of the enemy.
WILLIAM L. MARCY (1786-1857): _Speech in the United States Senate,
January, 1832._
     Say to the seceded States, "Wayward sisters, depart in peace."
WINFIELD SCOTT (1786-1861): _Letter to W. H. Seward, March 3, 1861._
    Rock'd in the cradle of the deep,
    I lay me down in peace to sleep.
EMMA WILLARD (1787-1870): _The Cradle of the Deep._
    Right as a trivet.
R. H. BARHAM (1788-1845): _The Ingoldsby Legends. Auto-da-fe._
    My life is like the summer rose
      That opens to the morning sky,
    But ere the shades of evening close
      Is scattered on the ground--to die.
RICHARD HENRY WILDE (1789-1847): _My Life is like the Summer Rose._
     Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the throne a sceptred
     hermit, wrapped in the solitude of his own originality.
CHARLES PHILLIPS (1789-1859): _The Character of Napoleon._
    Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay your golden cushion down;
    Rise up! come to the window, and gaze with all the town.
JOHN G. LOCKHART (1794-1854): _The Bridal of Andalla._
    By the margin of fair Zurich's waters
      Dwelt a youth, whose fond heart, night and day,
    For the fairest of fair Zurich's daughters
      In a dream of love melted away.
CHARLES DANCE (1794-1863): _Fair Zurich's Waters._
    I saw two clouds at morning
      Tinged by the rising sun,
    And in the dawn they floated on
      And mingled into one.
JOHN G. C. BRAINARD (1795-1828): _I saw Two Clouds at Morning._
    On thy fair bosom, silver lake,
      The wild swan spreads his snowy sail,
    And round his breast the ripples break
      As down he bears before the gale.
JAMES G. PERCIVAL (1795-1856): _To Seneca Lake._
    What fairy-like music steals over the sea,
    Entrancing our senses with charmed melody?
MRS. C. B. WILSON (---- -1846): _What Fairy-like Music._
    Her very frowns are fairer far
    Than smiles of other maidens are.
HARTLEY COLERIDGE (1796-1849): _She is not Fair._
    I would not live alway: I ask not to stay
    Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way.
WILLIAM A. MUHLENBERG (1796-1877): _I would not live alway._
    Oh, leave the gay and festive scenes,
      The halls of dazzling light.
H. S. VANDYK (1798-1828): _The Light Guitar._
     If any one attempts to haul down the American flag, shoot him on
     the spot.
JOHN A. DIX (1798-1879): _An Official Despatch, Jan. 29, 1861._
    I envy them, those monks of old;
    Their books they read, and their beads they told.
G. P. R. JAMES (1801-1860): _The Monks of Old._
    A place in thy memory, dearest,
      Is all that I claim;
    To pause and look back when thou hearest
      The sound of my name.
GERALD GRIFFIN (1803-1840): _A Place in thy Memory._
    Sparkling and bright in liquid light
      Does the wine our goblets gleam in;
    With hue as red as the rosy bed
      Which a bee would choose to dream in.
CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN (1806-1884): _Sparkling and Bright._
     The very mudsills of society. . . . We call them slaves. . . .
     But I will not characterize that class at the North with that
     term; but you have it. It is there, it is everywhere; it is
     eternal.
JAMES H. HAMMOND (1807-1864): _Speech in the U. S. Senate, March, 1858._
     It would be superfluous in me to point out to your Lordship that
     this is war.
CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS (1807-1886): _Despatch to Earl Russell, Sept. 5,
1863._
     We are swinging round the circle.
ANDREW JOHNSON (1808-1875): _On the Presidential Reconstruction Tour,
August, 1866._
    We have been friends together
      In sunshine and in shade.
CAROLINE E. S. NORTON (1808-1877): _We have been Friends._
     All we ask is to be let alone.
JEFFERSON DAVIS (1808-1889): _First Message to the Confederate Congress,
March, 1861._
    'T is said that absence conquers love;
      But oh believe it not!
    I 've tried, alas! its power to prove,
      But thou art not forgot.
FREDERICK W. THOMAS (1808- ----): _Absence conquers Love._
    Oh would I were a boy again,
      When life seemed formed of sunny years,
    And all the heart then knew of pain
      Was wept away in transient tears!
MARK LEMON (1809-1870): _Oh would I were a Boy again._
    Wee Willie Winkie rins through the toun,
    Upstairs and dounstairs, in his nicht-goun,
    Tirlin' at the window, cryin' at the lock,
    "Are the weans in their bed? for it 's nou ten o'clock."
WILLIAM MILLER (1810-1872): _Willie Winkie._
     We are Republicans, and don't propose to leave our party and
     identify ourselves with the party whose antecedents have been
     Rum, Romanism, and Rebellion.
SAMUEL D. BURCHARD (1812- ----),--one of the deputation visiting Mr.
Blaine, Oct. 29, 1884.
    A life on the ocean wave!
      A home on the rolling deep,
    Where the scattered waters rave,
      And the winds their revels keep!
EPES SARGENT (1813-1881): _Life on the Ocean Wave._
    What are the wild waves saying,
      Sister, the whole day long,
    That ever amid our playing
      I hear but their low, lone song?
JOSEPH E. CARPENTER (1813- ----): _What are the wild Waves saying?_
     Well, General, we have not had many dead cavalrymen lying about
     lately.
JOSEPH HOOKER (1813-1879): _A remark to General Averill, November, 1862._
    Come in the evening, or come in the morning;
    Come when you 're looked for, or come without warning.
THOMAS O. DAVIS (1814-1845): _The Welcome._
    But whether on the scaffold high
      Or in the battle's van,
    The fittest place where man can die
      Is where he dies for man!
MICHAEL J. BARRY (_Circa_ 1815): _The Dublin Nation, Sept. 28, 1844, Vol.
ii. p. 809._
    Oh the heart is a free and a fetterless thing,
    A wave of the ocean, a bird on the wing!
JULIA PARDOE (1816-1862): _The Captive Greek Girl._
    Let wealth and commerce, laws and learning die,
    But leave us still our old nobility.
LORD JOHN MANNERS (1818- ----): _England's Trust. Part iii. Line 227._
    Why thus longing, thus forever sighing
      For the far-off, unattain'd, and dim,
    While the beautiful all round thee lying
      Offers up its low, perpetual hymn?
HARRIET W. SEWALL (1819-1889): _Why thus longing?_
    Don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?
      Sweet Alice, whose hair was so brown;
    Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile,
      And trembl'd with fear at your frown!
THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH (1819- ----): _Ben Bolt._
     The Survival of the Fittest.
HERBERT SPENCER (1820- ----): _Principles of Biology, Vol. i. Chap. xii._
(American edition, 1867.)
    Who fears to speak of Ninety-eight?
      Who blushes at the name?
    When cowards mock the patriot's fate,
      Who hangs his head for shame?
JOHN K. INGRAM (1820- ----): _The Dublin Nation, April 1, 1843, Vol. ii.
p. 339._
    On Fame's eternal camping-ground
      Their silent tents are spread,
    And Glory guards with solemn round
      The bivouac of the dead.
THEODORE O'HARA (1820-1867): _The Bivouac of the Dead._ (August, 1847.)
     Hold the fort! I am coming!
WILLIAM T. SHERMAN (1820-1891),--signalled to General Corse in Allatoona
from the top of Kenesaw, Oct. 5, 1864.
    For every wave with dimpled face
      That leap'd upon the air,
    Had caught a star in its embrace
      And held it trembling there.
AMELIA B. WELBY (1821-1852): _Musings. Stanza 4._
    To look up and not down,
    To look forward and not back,
    To look out and not in, and
    To lend a hand.
EDWARD EVERETT HALE (1822- ----): _Rule of the "Harry Wadsworth Club"_
(from "Ten Times One is Ten," 1870).
     Listen! John A. Logan is the Head Centre, the Hub, the King Pin,
     the Main Spring, Mogul, and Mugwump of the final plot by which
     partisanship was installed in the Commission.
ISAAC H. BROMLEY (1833- ----): _Editorial in the "New York Tribune," Feb.
16, 1877._
     A mugwump is a person educated beyond his intellect.
HORACE PORTER (1837- ----), --a _bon-mot_ in the Cleveland-Blaine
campaign of 1884.
     I never could believe that Providence had sent a few men into the
     world, ready booted and spurred to ride, and millions ready
     saddled and bridled to be ridden.
RICHARD RUMBOLD, _on the scaffold, 1685. History of England (Macaulay),
Chap. v._
    The last link is broken
      That bound me to thee,
    And the words thou hast spoken
      Have render'd me free.
FANNY STEERS: _Song._
    Old Simon the cellarer keeps a rare store
    Of Malmsey and Malvoisie.
G. W. BELLAMY: _Simon the Cellarer._
     Babylon in all its desolation is a sight not so awful as that of
     the human mind in ruins.
SCROPE DAVIES: _Letter to Thomas Raikes, May 25, 1835._
    She 's all my fancy painted her;
      She 's lovely, she 's divine.
WILLIAM MEE: _Alice Gray._
    Stately and tall he moves in the hall,
      The chief of a thousand for grace.
KATE FRANKLIN: _Life at Olympus, Lady's Book, Vol. xxiii. p. 33._
    When the sun's last rays are fading
      Into twilight soft and dim.
THEODORE L. BARKER: _Thou wilt think of me again._
    Thou hast wounded the spirit that loved thee
      And cherish'd thine image for years;
    Thou hast taught me at last to forget thee,
      In secret, in silence, and tears.
MRS. (DAVID) PORTER: _Thou hast wounded the Spirit._
    Rattle his bones over the stones!
    He 's only a pauper, whom nobody owns!
THOMAS NOEL: _The Pauper's Ride._
    In the days when we went gypsying
      A long time ago;
    The lads and lassies in their best
      Were dress'd from top to toe.
EDWIN RANSFORD: _In the Days when we went Gypsying._
    Speak gently! 't is a little thing
      Dropp'd in the heart's deep well;
    The good, the joy, that it may bring
      Eternity shall tell.
G. W. LANGFORD: _Speak gently._
    Hope tells a flattering tale,
      Delusive, vain, and hollow.
    Ah! let not hope prevail,
      Lest disappointment follow.
MISS ---- WROTHER: _The Universal Songster. Vol. ii. p. 86._
    Nose, nose, nose, nose!
    And who gave thee that jolly red nose?
    Sinament and Ginger, Nutmegs and Cloves,
    And that gave me my jolly red nose.
RAVENSCROFT: _Deuteromela, Song No. 7._[683-2] (1609.)
     The mother said to her daughter, "Daughter, bid thy daughter tell
     her daughter that her daughter's daughter hath a daughter."
GEORGE HAKEWILL: _Apologie. Book iii. Chap. v. Sect. 9._
    Betwixt the stirrup and the ground,
    Mercy I ask'd; mercy I found.
WILLIAM CAMDEN: _Remains._
    Begone, dull Care! I prithee begone from me!
    Begone, dull Care! thou and I shall never agree.
PLAYFORD: _Musical Companion._ (1687.)
    Much of a muchness.
VANBRUGH: _The Provoked Husband, Act i. Sc. 1._
    Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John,
    The bed be blest that I lye on.
THOMAS ADY: _A Candle in the Dark, p. 58._ (London, 1656.)
    Junius, Aprilis, Septémq; Nouemq; tricenos,
    Vnum plus reliqui, Februs tenet octo vicenos,
    At si bissextus fuerit superadditur vnus.
WILLIAM HARRISON: _Description of Britain_ (prefixed to Holinshed's "Chronicle," 1577).
    Thirty dayes hath Nouember,
    Aprill, June, and September,
    February hath xxviii alone,
    And all the rest have xxxi.
RICHARD GRAFTON: _Chronicles of England._ (1590.)
    Thirty days hath September,
    April, June, and November,
    February has twenty-eight alone,
    All the rest have thirty-one;
    Excepting leap year,--that 's the time
    When February's days are twenty-nine.
_The Return from Parnassus._ (London, 1606.)
    Thirty days hath September,
    April, June, and November;
    All the rest have thirty-one,
    Excepting February alone,
    Which hath but twenty-eight, in fine,
    Till leap year gives it twenty-nine.
Common in the New England States.
    Fourth, eleventh, ninth, and sixth,
    Thirty days to each affix;
    Every other thirty-one
    Except the second month alone.
Common in Chester County, Penn., among the Friends.
     "Be of good comfort, Master Ridley," Latimer cried at the
     crackling of the flames. "Play the man! We shall this day light
     such a candle, by God's grace, in England, as I trust shall never
     be put out."
    There is a garden in her face,
      Where roses and white lilies show;
    A heavenly paradise is that place,
      Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow.
    There cherries hang that none may buy,
    Till cherry ripe themselves do cry.
_An Howres Recreation in Musike._ (1606. Set to music by Richard Alison.
Oliphant's "La Messa Madrigalesca," p. 229.)
    Those cherries fairly do enclose
      Of orient pearl a double row;
    Which when her lovely laughter shows,
      They look like rosebuds filled with snow.
_An Howres Recreation in Musike._ (1606. Set to music by Richard Alison.
Oliphant's "La Messa Madrigalesca," p. 229.)
    A vest as admired Voltiger had on,
    Which from this Island's foes his grandsire won,
    Whose artful colour pass'd the Tyrian dye,
    Obliged to triumph in this legacy.
_The British Princes, p. 96._ (1669.)
    When Adam dolve, and Eve span,
    Who was then the gentleman?
_Lines used by John Ball in Wat Tyler's Rebellion._
    Now bething the, gentilman,
    How Adam dalf, and Eve span.
_MS. of the Fifteenth Century_ (British Museum).
    Use three Physicians,
    Still-first Dr. Quiet;
    Next Dr. Mery-man,
    And Dr. Dyet.
_Regimen Sanitatis Salernitanum_ (edition of 1607).
    The King of France went up the hill
      With twenty thousand men;
    The King of France came down the hill,
      And ne'er went up again.
_Pigges Corantoe, or Newes from the North._
       *       *       *       *       *
_From The New England Primer._
    In Adam's fall
    We sinned all.
    My Book and Heart
    Must never part.
    Young Obadias,
    David, Josias,
    All were pious.
    Peter denyed
    His Lord, and cryed.
    Young Timothy
    Learnt sin to fly.
    Xerxes did die,
    And so must I.
    Zaccheus he
    Did climb the tree
    Our Lord to see.
    Our days begin with trouble here,
      Our life is but a span,
    And cruel death is always near,
      So frail a thing is man.
    Now I lay me down to take my sleep,
    I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
    If I should die before I wake,
    I pray the Lord my soul to take.
     His wife, with nine small children and one at the breast,
     following him to the stake.
_Martyrdom of John Rogers. Burned at Smithfield, Feb. 14, 1554._
       *       *       *       *       *
    And shall Trelawny die?
    Here 's twenty thousand Cornish men
    Will know the reason why.
    Mater ait natæ, dic natæ, natam
    Ut moneat natæ, plangere filiolam.
    The mother to her daughter spake:
      "Daughter," said she, "arise!
    Thy daughter to her daughter take,
      Whose daughter's daughter cries."
_A Distich, according to Zwingler, on a Lady of the Dalburg Family who
saw her descendants to the sixth generation._
    A woman's work, grave sirs, is never done.
_Poem spoken by Mr. Eusden at a Cambridge Commencement._
    Count that day lost whose low descending sun
    Views from thy hand no worthy action done.
_Author unknown._
     The gloomy companions of a disturbed imagination, the melancholy
     madness of poetry without the inspiration.
_Letters of Junius. Letter vii. To Sir W. Draper._
     I do not give you to posterity as a pattern to imitate, but as an
     example to deter.
_Letters of Junius. Letter xii. To the Duke of Grafton._
     The Americans equally detest the pageantry of a king and the
     supercilious hypocrisy of a bishop.
_Letters of Junius. Letter xxxv._
     The heart to conceive, the understanding to direct, or the hand
     to execute.
_Letters of Junius. Letter xxxvii. City Address, and the King's Answer._
     Private credit is wealth; public honour is security. The feather
     that adorns the royal bird supports its flight; strip him of his
     plumage, and you fix him to the earth.
_Letters of Junius. Letter xlii. Affair of the Falkland Islands._
    'T is well to be merry and wise,
      'T is well to be honest and true;
    'T is well to be off with the old love
      Before you are on with the new.
_Lines used by Maturin as the motto to "Bertram," produced at Drury Lane,
1816._
    Still so gently o'er me stealing,
    Mem'ry will bring back the feeling,
    Spite of all my grief revealing,
    That I love thee,--that I dearly love thee still.
_Opera of La Sonnambula._
    Happy am I; from care I 'm free!
    Why ar' n't they all contented like me?
_Opera of La Bayadère._
    It is so soon that I am done for,
    I wonder what I was begun for.
_Epitaph on a child who died at the age of three weeks_ (_Cheltenham Churchyard_).
    An Austrian army, awfully array'd,
    Boldly by battery besiege Belgrade;
    Cossack commanders cannonading come,
    Deal devastation's dire destructive doom;
    Ev'ry endeavour engineers essay,
    For fame, for freedom, fight, fierce furious fray.
    Gen'rals 'gainst gen'rals grapple,--gracious God!
    How honors Heav'n heroic hardihood!
    Infuriate, indiscriminate in ill,
    Just Jesus, instant innocence instill!
    Kinsmen kill kinsmen, kindred kindred kill.
    Labour low levels longest, loftiest lines;
    Men march 'midst mounds, motes, mountains, murd'rous mines.
    Now noisy, noxious numbers notice nought,
    Of outward obstacles o'ercoming ought;
    Poor patriots perish, persecution's pest!
    Quite quiet Quakers "Quarter, quarter" quest;
    Reason returns, religion, right, redounds,
    Suwarrow stop such sanguinary sounds!
    Truce to thee, Turkey, terror to thy train!
    Unwise, unjust, unmerciful Ukraine!
    Vanish vile vengeance, vanish victory vain!
    Why wish we warfare? wherefore welcome won
    Xerxes, Xantippus, Xavier, Xenophon?
    Yield, ye young Yaghier yeomen, yield your yell!
    Zimmerman's, Zoroaster's, Zeno's zeal
    Again attract; arts against arms appeal.
    All, all ambitious aims, avaunt, away!
    Et cætera, et cætera, et cætera.
_Alliteration, or the Siege of Belgrade: a Rondeau._
    But were it to my fancy given
    To rate her charms, I 'd call them heaven;
    For though a mortal made of clay,
    Angels must love Ann Hathaway;
    She hath a way so to control,
    To rapture the imprisoned soul,
    And sweetest heaven on earth display,
    That to be heaven Ann hath a way;
          She hath a way,
          Ann Hathaway,
    To be heaven's self Ann hath a way.
_Attributed to Shakespeare._
TRANSLATIONS.
PILPAY (OR BIDPAI.)
     We ought to do our neighbour all the good we can. If you do good,
     good will be done to you; but if you do evil, the same will be
     measured back to you again.
_Dabschelim and Pilpay. Chap. i._
     It has been the providence of Nature to give this creature [the
     cat] nine lives instead of one.
_The Greedy and Ambitious Cat. Fable iii._
     There is no gathering the rose without being pricked by the
     thorns.
_The Two Travellers. Chap. ii. Fable vi._
     Wise men say that there are three sorts of persons who are wholly
     deprived of judgment,--they who are ambitious of preferments in
     the courts of princes; they who make use of poison to show their
     skill in curing it; and they who intrust women with their
     secrets.
_The Two Travellers. Chap. ii. Fable vi._
     Men are used as they use others.
_The King who became Just. Fable ix._
     What is bred in the bone will never come out of the flesh.
_The Two Fishermen. Fable xiv._
     Guilty consciences always make people cowards.
_The Prince and his Minister. Chap. iii. Fable iii._
     Whoever . . . prefers the service of princes before his duty to
     his Creator, will be sure, early or late, to repent in vain.
_The Prince and his Minister. Chap. iii. Fable iii._
     There are some who bear a grudge even to those that do them good.
_A Religious Doctor. Fable vi._
     There was once, in a remote part of the East, a man who was
     altogether void of knowledge and experience, yet presumed to call
     himself a physician.
_The Ignorant Physician. Fable viii._
     He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.
_The Ignorant Physician. Fable viii._
     Honest men esteem and value nothing so much in this world as a
     real friend. Such a one is as it were another self, to whom we
     impart our most secret thoughts, who partakes of our joy, and
     comforts us in our affliction; add to this, that his company is
     an everlasting pleasure to us.
_Choice of Friends. Chap. iv._
     That possession was the strongest tenure of the law.
_The Cat and the two Birds. Chap. v. Fable iv._
HESIOD. _Circa_ 720 (?) B. C.
(_Translation by J. Banks, M. A., with a few alterations._[692-3])
     We know to tell many fictions like to truths, and we know, when
     we will, to speak what is true.
_The Theogony. Line 27._
     On the tongue of such an one they shed a honeyed dew,[692-4] and
     from his lips drop gentle words.
_The Theogony. Line 82._
     Night, having Sleep, the brother of Death.
_The Theogony. Line 754._
     From whose eyelids also as they gazed dropped love.
_The Theogony. Line 910._
     Both potter is jealous of potter and craftsman of craftsman; and
     poor man has a grudge against poor man, and poet against
     poet.
_Works and Days. Line 25._
     Fools! they know not how much half exceeds the whole.
_Works and Days. Line 40._
     For full indeed is earth of woes, and full the sea; and in the
     day as well as night diseases unbidden haunt mankind, silently
     bearing ills to men, for all-wise Zeus hath taken from them their
     voice. So utterly impossible is it to escape the will of Zeus.
_Works and Days. Line 101._
     They died, as if o'ercome by sleep.
_Works and Days. Line 116._
     Oft hath even a whole city reaped the evil fruit of a bad
     man.
_Works and Days. Line 240._
     For himself doth a man work evil in working evils for another.
_Works and Days. Line 265._
     Badness, look you, you may choose easily in a heap: level is the
     path, and right near it dwells. But before Virtue the immortal
     gods have put the sweat of man's brow; and long and steep is the
     way to it, and rugged at the first.
_Works and Days. Line 287._
     This man, I say, is most perfect who shall have understood
     everything for himself, after having devised what may be best
     afterward and unto the end.
_Works and Days. Line 293._
     Let it please thee to keep in order a moderate-sized farm, that
     so thy garners may be full of fruits in their season.
_Works and Days. Line 304._
     Invite the man that loves thee to a feast, but let alone thine
     enemy.
_Work and Days. Line 342._
     A bad neighbour is as great a misfortune as a good one is a great
     blessing.
_Works and Days. Line 346._
     Gain not base gains; base gains are the same as losses.
_Works and Days. Line 353._
     If thou shouldst lay up even a little upon a little, and shouldst
     do this often, soon would even this become great.
_Works and Days. Line 360._
     At the beginning of the cask and at the end take thy fill, but be
     saving in the middle; for at the bottom saving comes too late.
     Let the price fixed with a friend be sufficient, and even dealing
     with a brother call in witnesses, but laughingly.
_Works and Days. Line 366._
     Diligence increaseth the fruit of toil. A dilatory man wrestles
     with losses.
_Works and Days. Line 412._
     The morn, look you, furthers a man on his road, and furthers him
     too in his work.
_Works and Days. Line 579._
     Observe moderation. In all, the fitting season is best.
_Works and Days. Line 694._
     Neither make thy friend equal to a brother; but if thou shalt
     have made him so, be not the first to do him wrong.
_Works and Days. Line 707._
THEOGNIS. 570(?)-490(?) B. C.
     Wine is wont to show the mind of man.
_Maxims. Line 500._
     No one goes to Hades with all his immense wealth.
_Maxims. Line 725._
writers of Greece--Æschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides--are chiefly from
the fragments and not from their complete plays. The numbers of the
fragments refer to the edition of Nauck. They are selected and translated
by M. H. Morgan, Ph. D., of Harvard University.
ÆSCHYLUS. 525-456 B. C.
     I would far rather be ignorant than wise in the foreboding of
     evil.
_Suppliants, 453._
     "Honour thy father and thy mother" stands written among the three
     laws of most revered righteousness.
_Suppliants, 707._
     Words are the physicians of a mind diseased.
_Prometheus, 378._
     Time as he grows old teaches many lessons.
_Prometheus, 981._
     God's mouth knows not to utter falsehood, but he will perform
     each word.
_Prometheus, 1032._
     Learning is ever in the freshness of its youth, even for the
     old.
_Agamemnon, 584._
     Few men have the natural strength to honour a friend's success
     without envy. . . . I well know that mirror of friendship, shadow
     of a shade.
_Agamemnon, 832._
     Exiles feed on hope.
_Agamemnon, 1668._
     Success is man's god.
_Choephoræ, 59._
    So in the Libyan fable it is told
    That once an eagle, stricken with a dart,
    Said, when he saw the fashion of the shaft,
    "With our own feathers, not by others' hands,
    Are we now smitten."
_Frag. 135_ (trans. by Plumptre).
    Of all the gods, Death only craves not gifts:
    Nor sacrifice, nor yet drink-offering poured
    Avails; no altars hath he, nor is soothed
    By hymns of praise. From him alone of all
    The powers of heaven Persuasion holds aloof.
_Frag. 146_ (trans. by Plumptre).
    O Death the Healer, scorn thou not, I pray,
    To come to me: of cureless ills thou art
    The one physician. Pain lays not its touch
    Upon a corpse.
_Frag. 250_ (trans. by Plumptre).
     A prosperous fool is a grievous burden.
_Frag. 383._
     Bronze is the mirror of the form; wine, of the heart.
_Frag. 384._
     It is not the oath that makes us believe the man, but the man the
     oath.
_Frag. 385._
SOPHOCLES. 496-406 B. C.
     Think not that thy word and thine alone must be right.
_Antigone, 706._
     Death is not the worst evil, but rather when we wish to die and
     cannot.
_Electra, 1007._
     There is an ancient saying, famous among men, that thou shouldst
     not judge fully of a man's life before he dieth, whether it
     should be called blest or wretched.
_Trachiniæ, 1._
     In a just cause the weak o'ercome the strong.
_OEdipus Coloneus, 880._
     A lie never lives to be old.
_Acrisius. Frag. 59._
     Nobody loves life like an old man.
_Acrisius. Frag. 63._
     A short saying oft contains much wisdom.
_Aletes. Frag. 99._
     Do nothing secretly; for Time sees and hears all things, and
     discloses all.
_Hipponous. Frag. 280._
     It is better not to live at all than to live disgraced.
_Peleus. Frag. 445._
     War loves to seek its victims in the young.
_Scyrii. Frag. 507._
     If it were possible to heal sorrow by weeping and to raise the
     dead with tears, gold were less prized than grief.
_Scyrii. Frag. 510._
     Children are the anchors that hold a mother to life.
_Phædra. Frag. 619._
     The truth is always the strongest argument.
_Phædra. Frag. 737._
     The dice of Zeus fall ever luckily.
_Phædra. Frag. 809._
     Fortune is not on the side of the faint-hearted.
_Phædra. Frag. 842._
     No oath too binding for a lover.
_Phædra. Frag. 848._
     Thoughts are mightier than strength of hand.
_Phædra. Frag. 854._
     A wise player ought to accept his throws and score them, not
     bewail his luck.
_Phædra. Frag. 862._
     If I am Sophocles, I am not mad; and if I am mad, I am not
     Sophocles.
_Vit. Anon. p. 64_ (Plumptre's Trans.).
EURIPIDES. 484-406 B. C.
     Old men's prayers for death are lying prayers, in which they
     abuse old age and long extent of life. But when death draws near,
     not one is willing to die, and age no longer is a burden to them.
_Alcestis. 669._
     The gifts of a bad man bring no good with them.
_Medea. 618._
     Moderation, the noblest gift of Heaven.
_Medea. 636._
     I know, indeed, the evil of that I purpose; but my inclination
     gets the better of my judgment.
_Medea. 1078._
     There is in the worst of fortune the best of chances for a happy
     change.
_Iphigenia in Tauris. 721._
     Slowly but surely withal moveth the might of the gods.
_Bacchæ. 882._
     Thou didst bring me forth for all the Greeks in common, not for
     thyself alone.
_Iphigenia in Aulis. 1386._
     Slight not what 's near through aiming at what 's far.
_Rhesus. 482._
     The company of just and righteous men is better than wealth and a
     rich estate.
_Ægeus. Frag. 7._
     A bad beginning makes a bad ending.
_Æolus. Frag. 32._
     Time will explain it all. He is a talker, and needs no
     questioning before he speaks.
_Æolus. Frag. 38._
     Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.
_Alexander. Frag. 44._
     The nobly born must nobly meet his fate.
_Alcmene. Frag. 100._
     Woman is woman's natural ally.
_Alope. Frag. 109._
     Man's best possession is a sympathetic wife.
_Antigone. Frag. 164._
     Ignorance of one's misfortunes is clear gain.
_Antiope. Frag. 204._
    Try first thyself, and after call in God;
    For to the worker God himself lends aid.
_Hippolytus. Frag. 435._
     Second thoughts are ever wiser.
_Hippolytus. Frag. 436._
     Toil, says the proverb, is the sire of fame.
_Licymnius. Frag. 477._
     Cowards do not count in battle; they are there, but not in it.
_Meleager. Frag. 523._
     A woman should be good for everything at home, but abroad good
     for nothing.
_Meleager. Frag. 525._
     Silver and gold are not the only coin; virtue too passes current
     all over the world.
_OEdipus. Frag. 546._
    When good men die their goodness does not perish,
    But lives though they are gone. As for the bad,
    All that was theirs dies and is buried with them.
_Temenidæ. Frag. 734._
     Every man is like the company he is wont to keep.
_Phoenix. Frag. 809._
     Who knows but life be that which men call death,[699-3] And death
     what men call life?
_Phrixus. Frag. 830._
     Whoso neglects learning in his youth, loses the past and is dead
     for the future.
_Phrixus. Frag. 927._
     The gods visit the sins of the fathers upon the children.
_Phrixus. Frag. 970._
MIMNERMUS (TRAGEDIAN).
     We are all clever enough at envying a famous man while he is yet
     alive, and at praising him when he is dead.
_Frag. 1._
HIPPOCRATES. 460-359 B. C.
     Life is short and the art long.
_Aphorism i._
     Extreme remedies are very appropriate for extreme
     diseases.
_Aphorism i._
DIONYSIUS THE ELDER. 430-367 B. C.
     Let thy speech be better than silence, or be silent.
_Frag. 6._
PLAUTUS. 254(?)-184 B. C.
(_Translated by Henry Thomas Riley, B. A., with a few variations. The
references are to the text of Ritschl's second edition._[700-3])
     What is yours is mine, and all mine is yours.
_Trinummus. Act ii. Sc. 2, 48._ (_329._)
     Not by years but by disposition is wisdom acquired.
_Trinummus. Act ii. Sc. 2, 88._ (_367._)
     These things are not for the best, nor as I think they ought to
     be; but still they are better than that which is downright bad.
_Trinummus. Act ii. Sc. 2, 111._ (_392._)
     He whom the gods favour dies in youth.
_Bacchides. Act iv. Sc. 7, 18._ (_816._)
     You are seeking a knot in a bulrush.
_Menæchmi. Act ii. Sc. 1, 22._ (_247._)
     In the one hand he is carrying a stone, while he shows the bread
     in the other.
_Aulularia. Act ii. Sc. 2, 18._ (_195._)
     I had a regular battle with the dunghill-cock.
_Aulularia. Act iii. Sc. 4, 13._ (_472._)
     It was not for nothing that the raven was just now croaking on my
     left hand.
_Aulularia. Act iv. Sc. 3, 1._ (_624._)
     There are occasions when it is undoubtedly better to incur loss
     than to make gain.
_Captivi. Act ii. Sc. 2, 77._ (_327._)
     Patience is the best remedy for every trouble.
_Rudens. Act ii. Sc. 5, 71._
     If you are wise, be wise; keep what goods the gods provide you.
_Rudens. Act iv. Sc. 7, 3._ (_1229._)
     Consider the little mouse, how sagacious an animal it is which
     never entrusts its life to one hole only.
_Truculentus. Act iv. Sc. 4, 15._ (_868._)
     Nothing is there more friendly to a man than a friend in
     need.
_Epidicus. Act iii. Sc. 3, 44._ (_425._)
     Things which you do not hope happen more frequently than things
     which you do hope.
_Mostellaria. Act i. Sc. 3, 40._ (_197._)
     To blow and swallow at the same moment is not easy.
_Mostellaria. Act iii. Sc. 2, 104._ (_791._)
     Each man reaps on his own farm.
_Mostellaria. Act iii. Sc. 2, 112._ (_799._)
TERENCE. 185-159 B. C.
(_From the translation of Henry Thomas Riley, B. A., with occasional
corrections. The references are to the text of Umpfenbach._[702-1])
     Do not they bring it to pass by knowing that they know nothing at
     all?
_Andria. The Prologue. 17._
     Of surpassing beauty and in the bloom of youth.
_Andria. Act i. Sc. 1, 45._ (_72._)
     Hence these tears.
_Andria. Act i. Sc. 1, 99._ (_126._)
     That is a true proverb which is wont to be commonly quoted, that
     "all had rather it were well for themselves than for another."
_Andria. Act ii. Sc. 5, 15._ (_426._)
     The quarrels of lovers are the renewal of love.
_Andria. Act iii. Sc. 3, 23._ (_555._)
     Look you, I am the most concerned in my own interests.
_Andria. Act iv. Sc. 1, 12._ (_636._)
     In fine, nothing is said now that has not been said before.
_Eunuchus. The Prologue. 41._
     It is up with you; all is over; you are ruined.
_Eunuchus. Act i. Sc. 1, 9._ (_54._)
     If I could believe that this was said sincerely, I could put up
     with anything.
_Eunuchus. Act i. Sc. 2, 96._ (_176._)
     Immortal gods! how much does one man excel another! What a
     difference there is between a wise person and a fool!
_Eunuchus. Act ii. Sc. 2, 1._ (_232._)
     I have everything, yet have nothing; and although I possess
     nothing, still of nothing am I in want.
_Eunuchus. Act ii. Sc. 2, 12._ (_243._)
     There are vicissitudes in all things.
_Eunuchus. Act ii. Sc. 2, 45._ (_276._)
     The very flower of youth.
_Eunuchus. Act ii. Sc. 3, 28._ (_319._)
     I did not care one straw.
_Eunuchus. Act iii. Sc. 1, 21._ (_411._)
     Jupiter, now assuredly is the time when I could readily consent
     to be slain,[703-1] lest life should sully this ecstasy with some
     disaster.
_Eunuchus. Act iii. Sc. 5, 2._ (_550._)
     This and a great deal more like it I have had to put up with.
_Eunuchus. Act iv. Sc. 6, 8._ (_746._)
     Take care and say this with presence of mind.
_Eunuchus. Act iv. Sc. 6, 31._ (_769._)
     It behooves a prudent person to make trial of everything before
     arms.
_Eunuchus. Act iv. Sc. 7, 19._ (_789._)
     I know the disposition of women: when you will, they won't; when
     you won't, they set their hearts upon you of their own
     inclination.
_Eunuchus. Act iv. Sc. 7, 42._ (_812._)
     I took to my heels as fast as I could.
_Eunuchus. Act v. Sc. 2, 5._ (_844._)
     Many a time, . . . from a bad beginning great friendships have
     sprung up.
_Eunuchus. Act v. Sc. 2, 34._ (_873._)
     I only wish I may see your head stroked down with a
     slipper.
_Eunuchus. Act v. Sc. 7, 4._ (_1028._)
     I am a man, and nothing that concerns a man do I deem a matter of
     indifference to me.
_Heautontimoroumenos. Act i. Sc. 1, 25._ (_77._)
     This is a wise maxim, "to take warning from others of what may be
     to your own advantage."
_Heautontimoroumenos. Act i. Sc. 2, 36._ (_210._)
     That saying which I hear commonly repeated,--that time assuages
     sorrow.
_Heautontimoroumenos. Act iii. Sc. 1, 12._ (_421._)
     Really, you have seen the old age of an eagle,[704-1] as the
     saying is.
_Heautontimoroumenos. Act iii. Sc. 2, 9._ (_520._)
     Many a time a man cannot be such as he would be, if circumstances
     do not admit of it.
_Heautontimoroumenos. Act iv. Sc. 1, 53._ (_666._)
     Nothing is so difficult but that it may be found out by seeking.
_Heautontimoroumenos. Act iv. Sc. 2, 8._ (_675._)
     What now if the sky were to fall?
_Heautontimoroumenos. Act iv. Sc. 3, 41._ (_719._)
     Rigorous law is often rigorous injustice.
_Heautontimoroumenos. Act iv. Sc. 5, 48._ (_796._)
     There is nothing so easy but that it becomes difficult when you
     do it with reluctance.
_Heautontimoroumenos. Act iv. Sc. 6, 1._ (_805._)
     How many things, both just and unjust, are sanctioned by custom!
_Heautontimoroumenos. Act iv. Sc. 7, 11._ (_839._)
     Fortune helps the brave.
_Phormio. Act i. Sc. 4, 25._ (_203._)
     It is the duty of all persons, when affairs are the most
     prosperous,[704-5] then in especial to reflect within themselves
     in what way they are to endure adversity.
_Phormio. Act ii. Sc. 1, 11._ (_241._)
     As many men, so many minds; every one his own way.
_Phormio. Act ii. Sc. 4, 14._ (_454._)
     As the saying is, I have got a wolf by the ears.
_Phormio. Act iii. Sc. 2, 21._ (_506._)
     I bid him look into the lives of men as though into a mirror, and
     from others to take an example for himself.
_Adelphoe. Act iii. Sc. 3, 61._ (_415._)
     According as the man is, so must you humour him.
_Adelphoe. Act iii. Sc. 3, 77._ (_431._)
     It is a maxim of old that among themselves all things are common
     to friends.
_Adelphoe. Act v. Sc. 3, 18._ (_803._)
     What comes from this quarter, set it down as so much gain.
_Adelphoe. Act v. Sc. 3, 30._ (_816._)
     It is the common vice of all, in old age, to be too intent upon
     our interests.
_Adelphoe. Act v. Sc. 8, 30._ (_953._)
CICERO. 106-43 B. C.
     For as lack of adornment is said to become some women, so this
     subtle oration, though without embellishment, gives
     delight.
_De Oratore. 78._
     Thus in the beginning the world was so made that certain signs
     come before certain events.
_De Divinatione. i. 118._
     He is never less at leisure than when at leisure.
_De Officiis. iii. 1._
     While the sick man has life there is hope.
_Epistolarum ad Atticum. ix. 10, 4._
LUCRETIUS. 95-55 B. C.
     Continual dropping wears away a stone.
_De Rerum Natura. i. 313._
     What is food to one man may be fierce poison to others.
_De Rerum Natura. iv. 637._
     In the midst of the fountain of wit there arises something
     bitter, which stings in the very flowers.
_De Rerum Natura. iv. 1133._
HORACE. 65-8 B. C.
     Brave men were living before Agamemnon.
_Odes. iv. 9, 25._
     In peace, as a wise man, he should make suitable preparation for
     war.
_Satires, ii. 2._ (_111._)
     You may see me, fat and shining, with well-cared-for hide, . . .
     a hog from Epicurus's herd.
_Satires, ii. 4, 15._
     What the discordant harmony of circumstances would and could
     effect.
_Epistles, i. 12, 19._
     If you wish me to weep, you yourself must feel grief.
_Ars Poetica. 102._
     The mountains will be in labour; an absurd mouse will be
     born.
_Ars Poetica. 139._
     Even the worthy Homer sometimes nods.
_Ars Poetica. 359._
OVID. 43 B. C.-18 A. D.
     They come to see; they come that they themselves may be
     seen.
_The Art of Love. i. 99._
     Nothing is stronger than custom.
_The Art of Love. ii. 345._
     Then the omnipotent Father with his thunder made Olympus tremble,
     and from Ossa hurled Pelion.
_Metamorphoses. i._
     It is the mind that makes the man, and our vigour is in our
     immortal soul.
_Metamorphoses. xiii._
     The mind, conscious of rectitude, laughed to scorn the falsehood
     of report.
_Fasti. iv. 311._
OF UNKNOWN AUTHORSHIP.
     Love thyself, and many will hate thee.
_Frag. 146._
     Practice in time becomes second nature.
_Frag. 227._
     When God is planning ruin for a man, He first deprives him of his
     reason.
_Frag. 379._
    When I am dead let fire destroy the world;
    It matters not to me, for I am safe.
_Frag. 430._
     Toil does not come to help the idle.
_Frag. 440._
PUBLIUS SYRUS.[708-1] 42 B. C.
(_Translation by Darius Lyman. The numbers are those of the translator._)
     As men, we are all equal in the presence of death.
_Maxim 1._
     To do two things at once is to do neither.
_Maxim 7._
     We are interested in others when they are interested in
     us.
_Maxim 16._
     Every one excels in something in which another fails.
_Maxim 17._
     The anger of lovers renews the strength of love.
_Maxim 24._
     A god could hardly love and be wise.
_Maxim 25._
     The loss which is unknown is no loss at all.
_Maxim 38._
     He sleeps well who knows not that he sleeps ill.
_Maxim 77._
     A good reputation is more valuable than money.
_Maxim 108._
     It is well to moor your bark with two anchors.
_Maxim 119._
     Learn to see in another's calamity the ills which you should
     avoid.
_Maxim 120._
     An agreeable companion on a journey is as good as a carriage.
_Maxim 143._
     Society in shipwreck is a comfort to all.
_Maxim 144._
     Many receive advice, few profit by it.
_Maxim 149._
     Patience is a remedy for every sorrow.
_Maxim 170._
     While we stop to think, we often miss our opportunity.
_Maxim 185._
     Whatever you can lose, you should reckon of no account.
_Maxim 191._
     Even a single hair casts its shadow.
_Maxim 228._
     It is sometimes expedient to forget who we are.
_Maxim 233._
     We may with advantage at times forget what we know.
_Maxim 234._
     You should hammer your iron when it is glowing hot.
_Maxim 262._
     What is left when honour is lost?
_Maxim 265._
     A fair exterior is a silent recommendation.
_Maxim 267._
     Fortune is not satisfied with inflicting one calamity.
_Maxim 274._
     When Fortune is on our side, popular favour bears her company.
_Maxim 275._
     When Fortune flatters, she does it to betray.
_Maxim 277._
     Fortune is like glass,--the brighter the glitter, the more easily
     broken.
_Maxim 280._
     It is more easy to get a favour from fortune than to keep it.
_Maxim 282._
     His own character is the arbiter of every one's fortune.
_Maxim 283._
     There are some remedies worse than the disease.
_Maxim 301._
     Powerful indeed is the empire of habit.
_Maxim 305._
     Amid a multitude of projects, no plan is devised.
_Maxim 319._
     It is easy for men to talk one thing and think another.
_Maxim 322._
     When two do the same thing, it is not the same thing after all.
_Maxim 338._
     A cock has great influence on his own dunghill.
_Maxim 357._
     Any one can hold the helm when the sea is calm.
_Maxim 358._
     No tears are shed when an enemy dies.
_Maxim 376._
     The bow too tensely strung is easily broken.
_Maxim 388._
     Treat your friend as if he might become an enemy.
_Maxim 401._
     No pleasure endures unseasoned by variety.
_Maxim 406._
     The judge is condemned when the criminal is acquitted.
_Maxim 407._
     Practice is the best of all instructors.
_Maxim 439._
     He who is bent on doing evil can never want occasion.
_Maxim 459._
     One man's wickedness may easily become all men's curse.
_Maxim 463._
     Never find your delight in another's misfortune.
_Maxim 467._
     It is a bad plan that admits of no modification.
_Maxim 469._
     It is better to have a little than nothing.
_Maxim 484._
     It is an unhappy lot which finds no enemies.
_Maxim 499._
     The fear of death is more to be dreaded than death itself.
_Maxim 511._
     A rolling stone gathers no moss.
_Maxim 524._
     Never promise more than you can perform.
_Maxim 528._
     A wise man never refuses anything to necessity.
_Maxim 540._
     No one should be judge in his own cause.
_Maxim 545._
     Necessity knows no law except to conquer.
_Maxim 553._
     Nothing can be done at once hastily and prudently.
_Maxim 557._
     We desire nothing so much as what we ought not to have.
_Maxim 559._
     It is only the ignorant who despise education.
_Maxim 571._
     Do not turn back when you are just at the goal.
_Maxim 580._
     It is not every question that deserves an answer.
_Maxim 581._
     No man is happy who does not think himself so.
_Maxim 584._
     Never thrust your own sickle into another's corn.
_Maxim 593._
     You cannot put the same shoe on every foot.
_Maxim 596._
     He bids fair to grow wise who has discovered that he is not so.
_Maxim 598._
     A guilty conscience never feels secure.
_Maxim 617._
     Every day should be passed as if it were to be our last.
_Maxim 633._
     Familiarity breeds contempt.
_Maxim 640._
     Money alone sets all the world in motion.
_Maxim 656._
     He who has plenty of pepper will pepper his cabbage.
_Maxim 673._
     You should go to a pear-tree for pears, not to an elm.
_Maxim 674._
     It is a very hard undertaking to seek to please everybody.
_Maxim 675._
     We should provide in peace what we need in war.
_Maxim 709._
     Look for a tough wedge for a tough log.
_Maxim 723._
     How happy the life unembarrassed by the cares of business!
_Maxim 725._
     They who plough the sea do not carry the winds in their
     hands.
_Maxim 759._
     He gets through too late who goes too fast.
_Maxim 767._
     In every enterprise consider where you would come out.
_Maxim 777._
     It takes a long time to bring excellence to maturity.
_Maxim 780._
     The highest condition takes rise in the lowest.
_Maxim 781._
     It matters not what you are thought to be, but what you are.
_Maxim 785._
     No one knows what he can do till he tries.
_Maxim 786._
     The next day is never so good as the day before.
_Maxim 815._
     He is truly wise who gains wisdom from another's mishap.
_Maxim 825._
     Good health and good sense are two of life's greatest blessings.
_Maxim 827._
     It matters not how long you live, but how well.
_Maxim 829._
     It is vain to look for a defence against lightning.
_Maxim 835._
     No good man ever grew rich all at once.
_Maxim 837._
     Everything is worth what its purchaser will pay for it.
_Maxim 847._
     It is better to learn late than never.
_Maxim 864._
     Better be ignorant of a matter than half know it.
_Maxim 865._
     Better use medicines at the outset than at the last moment.
_Maxim 866._
     Prosperity makes friends, adversity tries them.
_Maxim 872._
     Whom Fortune wishes to destroy she first makes mad.
_Maxim 911._
     Let a fool hold his tongue and he will pass for a sage.
_Maxim 914._
     He knows not when to be silent who knows not when to speak.
_Maxim 930._
     You need not hang up the ivy-branch over the wine that will
     sell.
_Maxim 968._
     It is a consolation to the wretched to have companions in
     misery.
_Maxim 995._
     Unless degree is preserved, the first place is safe for no
     one.
_Maxim 1042._
     Confession of our faults is the next thing to innocency.
_Maxim 1060._
     I have often regretted my speech, never my silence.
_Maxim 1070._
     Keep the golden mean[714-5] between saying too much and too
     little.
_Maxim 1072._
     Speech is a mirror of the soul: as a man speaks, so is he.
_Maxim 1073._
SENECA. 8 B. C.-65 A. D.
     Not lost, but gone before.
_Epistolæ. 63, 16._
     Whom they have injured they also hate.
_De Ira. ii. 33._
     Fire is the test of gold; adversity, of strong men.
_De Providentia. 5, 9._
     There is no great genius without a tincture of madness.
_De Tranquillitate Animi. 17._
     Do you seek Alcides' equal? None is, except himself.
_Hercules Furens. i. 1, 84._
     Successful and fortunate crime is called virtue.
_Hercules Furens. 255._
     A good man possesses a kingdom.
_Thyestes. 380._
     I do not distinguish by the eye, but by the mind, which is the
     proper judge of the man.
_On a Happy Life. 2._ (_L' Estrange's Abstract, Chap. i._)
PHÆDRUS. 8 A. D.
(_Translation by H. T. Riley, B. A._[715-4])
     Submit to the present evil, lest a greater one befall you.
_Book i. Fable 2, 31._
     He who covets what belongs to another deservedly loses his own.
_Book i. Fable 4, 1._
     That it is unwise to be heedless ourselves while we are giving
     advice to others, I will show in a few lines.
_Book i. Fable 9, 1._
     Whoever has even once become notorious by base fraud, even if he
     speaks the truth, gains no belief.
_Book i. Fable 10, 1._
     By this story [The Fox and the Raven] it is shown how much
     ingenuity avails, and how wisdom is always an overmatch for
     strength.
_Book i. Fable 13, 13._
     No one returns with good-will to the place which has done him a
     mischief.
_Book i. Fable 18, 1._
     It has been related that dogs drink at the river Nile running
     along, that they may not be seized by the crocodiles.
_Book i. Fable 25, 3._
     Every one is bound to bear patiently the results of his own
     example.
_Book i. Fable 26, 12._
     Come of it what may, as Sinon said.
_Book iii. The Prologue, 27._
     Things are not always what they seem.
_Book iv. Fable 2, 5._
     Jupiter has loaded us with a couple of wallets: the one, filled
     with our own vices, he has placed at our backs; the other, heavy
     with those of others, he has hung before.
_Book iv. Fable 10, 1._
     A mountain was in labour, sending forth dreadful groans, and
     there was in the region the highest expectation. After all, it
     brought forth a mouse.
_Book iv. Fable 23, 1._
     A fly bit the bare pate of a bald man, who in endeavouring to
     crush it gave himself a hard slap. Then said the fly jeeringly,
     "You wanted to revenge the sting of a tiny insect with death;
     what will you do to yourself, who have added insult to injury?"
_Book v. Fable 3, 1._
     "I knew that before you were born." Let him who would instruct a
     wiser man consider this as said to himself.
_Book v. Fable 9, 4._
PLINY THE ELDER. 23-79 A. D.
(_Translation by J. Bostock, M. D., and H. T. Riley, B. A., with slight
alterations._[716-4])
     In comparing various authors with one another, I have discovered
     that some of the gravest and latest writers have transcribed,
     word for word, from former works, without making acknowledgment.
_Natural History. Book i. Dedication, Sect. 22._
     The world, and whatever that be which we call the heavens, by the
     vault of which all things are enclosed, we must conceive to be a
     deity, to be eternal, without bounds, neither created nor subject
     at any time to destruction. To inquire what is beyond it is no
     concern of man; nor can the human mind form any conjecture
     concerning it.
_Natural History. Book ii. Sect. 1._
     It is ridiculous to suppose that the great head of things,
     whatever it be, pays any regard to human affairs.
_Natural History. Book ii. Sect. 20._
     Everything is soothed by oil, and this is the reason why divers
     send out small quantities of it from their mouths, because it
     smooths every part which is rough.
_Natural History. Book ii. Sect. 234._
     It is far from easy to determine whether she [Nature] has proved
     to him a kind parent or a merciless stepmother.
_Natural History. Book vii. Sect. 1._
     Man alone at the very moment of his birth, cast naked upon the
     naked earth, does she abandon to cries and lamentations.
_Natural History. Book vii. Sect. 2._
     To laugh, if but for an instant only, has never been granted to
     man before the fortieth day from his birth, and then it is looked
     upon as a miracle of precocity.
_Natural History, Book vii. Sect. 2._
     Man is the only one that knows nothing, that can learn nothing
     without being taught. He can neither speak nor walk nor eat, and
     in short he can do nothing at the prompting of nature only, but
     weep.
_Natural History, Book vii. Sect. 4._
     With man, most of his misfortunes are occasioned by man.
_Natural History, Book vii. Sect. 5._
     Indeed, what is there that does not appear marvellous when it
     comes to our knowledge for the first time?[718-4] How many
     things, too, are looked upon as quite impossible until they have
     been actually effected?
_Natural History, Book vii. Sect. 6._
     The human features and countenance, although composed of but some
     ten parts or little more, are so fashioned that among so many
     thousands of men there are no two in existence who cannot be
     distinguished from one another.
_Natural History, Book vii. Sect. 8._
     All men possess in their bodies a poison which acts upon
     serpents; and the human saliva, it is said, makes them take to
     flight, as though they had been touched with boiling water. The
     same substance, it is said, destroys them the moment it enters
     their throat.
_Natural History, Book vii. Sect. 15._
     It has been observed that the height of a man from the crown of
     the head to the sole of the foot is equal to the distance between
     the tips of the middle fingers of the two hands when extended in
     a straight line.
_Natural History. Book vii. Sect. 77._
     When a building is about to fall down, all the mice desert
     it.
_Natural History. Book viii. Sect. 103._
     Bears when first born are shapeless masses of white flesh a
     little larger than mice, their claws alone being prominent. The
     mother then licks them gradually into proper shape.
_Natural History. Book viii. Sect. 126._
     It is asserted that the dogs keep running when they drink at the
     Nile, for fear of becoming a prey to the voracity of the
     crocodile.
_Natural History. Book viii. Sect. 148._
     It has become quite a common proverb that in wine there is
     truth.
_Natural History. Book xiv. Sect. 141._
     Cincinnatus was ploughing his four jugera of land upon the
     Vaticanian Hill,--the same that are still known as the Quintian
     Meadows,--when the messenger brought him the dictatorship,
     finding him, the tradition says, stripped to the work.
_Natural History. Book xviii. Sect. 20._
     The agricultural population, says Cato, produces the bravest men,
     the most valiant soldiers, and a class of citizens the least
     given of all to evil designs. . . . A bad bargain is always a
     ground for repentance.
_Natural History. Book xviii. Sect. 26._
     The best plan is, as the common proverb has it, to profit by the
     folly of others.
_Natural History. Book xviii. Sect. 31._
     Always act in such a way as to secure the love of your
     neighbour.
_Natural History. Book xviii. Sect. 44._
     It is a maxim universally agreed upon in agriculture, that
     nothing must be done too late; and again, that everything must be
     done at its proper season; while there is a third precept which
     reminds us that opportunities lost can never be regained.
_Natural History. Book xviii. Sect. 44._
     The bird of passage known to us as the cuckoo.
_Natural History. Book xviii. Sect. 249._
     Let not things, because they are common, enjoy for that the less
     share of our consideration.
_Natural History. Book xix. Sect. 59._
     Why is it that we entertain the belief that for every purpose odd
     numbers are the most effectual?
_Natural History. Book xxviii. Sect. 23._
     It was a custom with Apelles, to which he most tenaciously
     adhered, never to let any day pass, however busy he might be,
     without exercising himself by tracing some outline or other,--a
     practice which has now passed into a proverb.[720-4] It was also
     a practice with him, when he had completed a work, to exhibit it
     to the view of the passers-by in his studio, while he himself,
     concealed behind the picture, would listen to the criticisms. . .
     . Under these circumstances, they say that he was censured by a
     shoemaker for having represented the shoes with one latchet too
     few. The next day, the shoemaker, quite proud at seeing the
     former error corrected, thanks to his advice, began to criticise
     the leg; upon which Apelles, full of indignation, popped his head
     out and reminded him that a shoemaker should give no opinion
     beyond the shoes,[721-1]--a piece of advice which has equally
     passed into a proverbial saying.
_Natural History. Book xxxv. Sect. 84._
QUINTILIAN. 42-118 A. D.
     We give to necessity the praise of virtue.
_Institutiones Oratoriæ, i. 8, 14._
     A liar should have a good memory.
_Institutiones Oratoriæ, iv. 2, 91._
     Vain hopes are often like the dreams of those who wake.
_Institutiones Oratoriæ, vi. 2, 30._
     Those who wish to appear wise among fools, among the wise seem
     foolish.
_Institutiones Oratoriæ, x. 7, 21._
JUVENAL. 47-138 A. D.
     No man ever became extremely wicked all at once.
_Satire ii. 83._
     Grammarian, orator, geometrician; painter, gymnastic teacher,
     physician; fortune-teller, rope-dancer, conjuror,--he knew
     everything.
_Satire iii. 76._
     Nobility is the one only virtue.
_Satire viii. 20._
MARTIAL. 40-102 A. D.
     I do not love thee, Sabidius, nor can I say why; this only I can
     say, I do not love thee.
_Epigram i. 32._
     The good man prolongs his life; to be able to enjoy one's past
     life is to live twice.
_Epigram x. 23, 7._
    The bee enclosed and through the amber shown
    Seems buried in the juice which was his own.
_Book iv. 32._
     Neither fear, nor wish for, your last day.
_Book x. 47, 13._
PLUTARCH. 46(?)-120(?) A. D.
(_From Dryden's translation of Plutarch's Lives, corrected and revised by
A. H. Clough._)
     As geographers, Sosius, crowd into the edges of their maps parts
     of the world which they do not know about, adding notes in the
     margin to the effect that beyond this lies nothing but sandy
     deserts full of wild beasts, and unapproachable bogs.
_Life of Theseus._
     From Themistocles began the saying, "He is a second Hercules."
_Life of Theseus._
     The most perfect soul, says Heraclitus, is a dry light, which
     flies out of the body as lightning breaks from a cloud.
_Life of Romulus._
     Anacharsis coming to Athens, knocked at Solon's door, and told
     him that he, being a stranger, was come to be his guest, and
     contract a friendship with him; and Solon replying, "It is better
     to make friends at home," Anacharsis replied, "Then you that are
     at home make friendship with me."
_Life of Solon._
     Themistocles said that he certainly could not make use of any
     stringed instrument; could only, were a small and obscure city
     put into his hands, make it great and glorious.
_Life of Themistocles._
     Eurybiades lifting up his staff as if he were going to strike,
     Themistocles said, "Strike, if you will; but hear."
_Life of Themistocles._
     Themistocles said to Antiphales, "Time, young man, has taught us
     both a lesson."
_Life of Themistocles._
     Laughing at his own son, who got his mother, and by his mother's
     means his father also, to indulge him, he told him that he had
     the most power of any one in Greece: "For the Athenians command
     the rest of Greece, I command the Athenians, your mother commands
     me, and you command your mother."
_Life of Themistocles._
     "You speak truth," said Themistocles; "I should never have been
     famous if I had been of Seriphus;[723-3] nor you, had you been of
     Athens."
_Life of Themistocles._
     Themistocles said that a man's discourse was like to a rich
     Persian carpet, the beautiful figures and patterns of which can
     be shown only by spreading and extending it out; when it is
     contracted and folded up, they are obscured and lost.
_Life of Themistocles._
     When he was in great prosperity, and courted by many, seeing
     himself splendidly served at his table, he turned to his children
     and said: "Children, we had been undone, if we had not been
     undone."
_Life of Themistocles._
     Moral good is a practical stimulus; it is no sooner seen than it
     inspires an impulse to practise.
_Life of Pericles._
     For ease and speed in doing a thing do not give the work lasting
     solidity or exactness of beauty.
_Life of Pericles._
     So very difficult a matter is it to trace and find out the truth
     of anything by history.
_Life of Pericles._
     Be ruled by time, the wisest counsellor of all.
_Life of Pericles._
     To conduct great matters and never commit a fault is above the
     force of human nature.
_Life of Fabius._
     Menenius Agrippa concluded at length with the celebrated fable:
     "It once happened that all the other members of a man mutinied
     against the stomach, which they accused as the only idle,
     uncontributing part in the whole body, while the rest were put to
     hardships and the expense of much labour to supply and minister
     to its appetites."
_Life of Coriolanus._
     Knowledge of divine things for the most part, as Heraclitus says,
     is lost to us by incredulity.
_Life of Coriolanus._
     A Roman divorced from his wife, being highly blamed by his
     friends, who demanded, "Was she not chaste? Was she not fair? Was
     she not fruitful?" holding out his shoe, asked them whether it
     was not new and well made. "Yet," added he, "none of you can tell
     where it pinches me."
_Life of Æmilius Paulus._
     The saying of old Antigonus, who when he was to fight at Andros,
     and one told him, "The enemy's ships are more than ours,"
     replied, "For how many then wilt thou reckon me?"
_Life of Pelopidas._
     Archimedes had stated, that given the force, any given weight
     might be moved; and even boasted that if there were another
     earth, by going into it he could remove this.
_Life of Marcellus._
     It is a difficult task, O citizens, to make speeches to the
     belly, which has no ears.
_Life of Marcus Cato._
     Cato used to assert that wise men profited more by fools than
     fools by wise men; for that wise men avoided the faults of fools,
     but that fools would not imitate the good examples of wise men.
_Life of Marcus Cato._
     He said that in his whole life he most repented of three things:
     one was that he had trusted a secret to a woman; another, that he
     went by water when he might have gone by land; the third, that he
     had remained one whole day without doing any business of moment.
_Life of Marcus Cato._
     Marius said, "I see the cure is not worth the pain."
_Life of Caius Marius._
     Extraordinary rains pretty generally fall after great
     battles.
_Life of Caius Marius._
     Lysander said that the law spoke too softly to be heard in such a
     noise of war.
_Life of Caius Marius._
     As it is in the proverb, played Cretan against Cretan.
_Life of Lysander._
     Did you not know, then, that to-day Lucullus sups with Lucullus?
_Life of Lucullus._
     It is no great wonder if in long process of time, while fortune
     takes her course hither and thither, numerous coincidences should
     spontaneously occur. If the number and variety of subjects to be
     wrought upon be infinite, it is all the more easy for fortune,
     with such an abundance of material, to effect this similarity of
     results.
_Life of Sertorius._
     Perseverance is more prevailing than violence; and many things
     which cannot be overcome when they are together, yield themselves
     up when taken little by little.
_Life of Sertorius._
     Agesilaus being invited once to hear a man who admirably imitated
     the nightingale, he declined, saying he had heard the nightingale
     itself.
_Life of Agesilaus II._
     It is circumstance and proper measure that give an action its
     character, and make it either good or bad.
_Life of Agesilaus II._
     The old proverb was now made good, "the mountain had brought
     forth a mouse."
_Life of Agesilaus II._
     Pompey bade Sylla recollect that more worshipped the rising than
     the setting sun.
_Life of Pompey._
     When some were saying that if Cæsar should march against the city
     they could not see what forces there were to resist him, Pompey
     replied with a smile, bidding them be in no concern, "for
     whenever I stamp my foot in any part of Italy there will rise up
     forces enough in an instant, both horse and foot."
_Life of Pompey._
     The most glorious exploits do not always furnish us with the
     clearest discoveries of virtue or vice in men.
_Life of Alexander._
     Whenever Alexander heard Philip had taken any town of importance,
     or won any signal victory, instead of rejoicing at it altogether,
     he would tell his companions that his father would anticipate
     everything, and leave him and them no opportunities of performing
     great and illustrious actions.
_Life of Alexander._
     Alexander said, "I assure you I had rather excel others in the
     knowledge of what is excellent, than in the extent of my power
     and dominion."
_Life of Alexander._
     When Alexander asked Diogenes whether he wanted anything, "Yes,"
     said he, "I would have you stand from between me and the sun."
_Life of Alexander._
     When asked why he parted with his wife, Cæsar replied, "I wished
     my wife to be not so much as suspected."
_Life of Cæsar._
     For my part, I had rather be the first man among these fellows
     than the second man in Rome.
_Life of Cæsar._
     Using the proverb frequently in their mouths who enter upon
     dangerous and bold attempts, "The die is cast," he took the
     river.
_Life of Cæsar._
     "And this," said Cæsar, "you know, young man, is more
     disagreeable for me to say than to do."
_Life of Cæsar._
     Go on, my friend, and fear nothing; you carry Cæsar and his
     fortunes in your boat.
_Life of Cæsar._
     Cæsar said to the soothsayer, "The ides of March are come;" who
     answered him calmly, "Yes, they are come, but they are not
     past."
_Life of Cæsar._
     Even a nod from a person who is esteemed is of more force than a
     thousand arguments or studied sentences from others.
_Life of Phocion._
     Demosthenes told Phocion, "The Athenians will kill you some day
     when they once are in a rage." "And you," said he, "if they are
     once in their senses."
_Life of Phocion._
     Pythias once, scoffing at Demosthenes, said that his arguments
     smelt of the lamp.
_Life of Demosthenes._
     Demosthenes overcame and rendered more distinct his inarticulate
     and stammering pronunciation by speaking with pebbles in his
     mouth.
_Life of Demosthenes._
     In his house he had a large looking-glass, before which he would
     stand and go through his exercises.
_Life of Demosthenes._
     Cicero called Aristotle a river of flowing gold, and said of
     Plato's Dialogues, that if Jupiter were to speak, it would be in
     language like theirs.
_Life of Cicero._
(_From Plutarch's Morals. Translated by several hands; corrected and
revised by W. W. Goodwin, Ph.D., Harvard University._)
     For water continually dropping will wear hard rocks
     hollow.
_Of the Training of Children._
     It is a true proverb, that if you live with a lame man you will
     learn to halt.
_Of the Training of Children._
     The very spring and root of honesty and virtue lie in the
     felicity of lighting on good education.
_Of the Training of Children._
     It is indeed a desirable thing to be well descended, but the
     glory belongs to our ancestors.
_Of the Training of Children._
     According to the proverb, the best things are the most difficult.
_Of the Training of Children._
     To sing the same tune, as the saying is, is in everything cloying
     and offensive; but men are generally pleased with variety.
_Of the Training of Children._
     Children are to be won to follow liberal studies by exhortations
     and rational motives, and on no account to be forced thereto by
     whipping.
_Of the Training of Children._
     Nothing made the horse so fat as the king's eye.
_Of the Training of Children._
     Democritus said, words are but the shadows of actions.
_Of the Training of Children._
     'T is a wise saying, Drive on your own track.
_Of the Training of Children._
     It is a point of wisdom to be silent when occasion requires, and
     better than to speak, though never so well.
_Of the Training of Children._
     Eat not thy heart; which forbids to afflict our souls, and waste
     them with vexatious cares.
_Of the Training of Children._
     Abstain from beans; that is, keep out of public offices, for
     anciently the choice of the officers of state was made by beans.
_Of the Training of Children._
     When men are arrived at the goal, they should not turn
     back.
_Of the Training of Children._
     The whole life of man is but a point of time; let us enjoy it,
     therefore, while it lasts, and not spend it to no purpose.
_Of the Training of Children._
     An old doting fool, with one foot already in the grave.
_Of the Training of Children._
     Xenophanes said, "I confess myself the greatest coward in the
     world, for I dare not do an ill thing."
_Of Bashfulness._
     One made the observation of the people of Asia that they were all
     slaves to one man, merely because they could not pronounce that
     syllable No.
_Of Bashfulness._
     Euripides was wont to say, "Silence is an answer to a wise man."
_Of Bashfulness._
     Zeno first started that doctrine that knavery is the best defence
     against a knave.
_Of Bashfulness._
     Alexander wept when he heard from Anaxarchus that there was an
     infinite number of worlds; and his friends asking him if any
     accident had befallen him, he returns this answer: "Do you not
     think it a matter worthy of lamentation that when there is such a
     vast multitude of them, we have not yet conquered one?"
_On the Tranquillity of the Mind._
     Like the man who threw a stone at a bitch, but hit his
     step-mother, on which he exclaimed, "Not so bad!"
_On the Tranquillity of the Mind._
     Pittacus said, "Every one of you hath his particular plague, and
     my wife is mine; and he is very happy who hath this only."
_On the Tranquillity of the Mind._
     He was a man, which, as Plato saith, is a very inconstant
     creature.
_On the Tranquillity of the Mind._
     The pilot cannot mitigate the billows or calm the winds.
_On the Tranquillity of the Mind._
     I, for my own part, had much rather people should say of me that
     there neither is nor ever was such a man as Plutarch, than that
     they should say, "Plutarch is an unsteady, fickle, froward,
     vindictive, and touchy fellow."
_Of Superstition._
     Scilurus on his death-bed, being about to leave fourscore sons
     surviving, offered a bundle of darts to each of them, and bade
     them break them. When all refused, drawing out one by one, he
     easily broke them,--thus teaching them that if they held
     together, they would continue strong; but if they fell out and
     were divided, they would become weak.
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders._[731-1] _Scilurus._
     Dionysius the Elder, being asked whether he was at leisure, he
     replied, "God forbid that it should ever befall me!"
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Dionysius._
     A prating barber asked Archelaus how he would be trimmed. He
     answered, "In silence."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Archelaus._
     When Philip had news brought him of divers and eminent successes
     in one day, "O Fortune!" said he, "for all these so great
     kindnesses do me some small mischief."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Philip._
     There were two brothers called Both and Either; perceiving Either
     was a good, understanding, busy fellow, and Both a silly fellow
     and good for little, Philip said, "Either is both, and Both is
     neither."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Philip._
     Philip being arbitrator betwixt two wicked persons, he commanded
     one to fly out of Macedonia and the other to pursue him.
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Philip._
     Being about to pitch his camp in a likely place, and hearing
     there was no hay to be had for the cattle, "What a life," said
     he, "is ours, since we must live according to the convenience of
     asses!"
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Philip._
     "These Macedonians," said he, "are a rude and clownish people,
     that call a spade a spade."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Philip._
     He made one of Antipater's recommendation a judge; and perceiving
     afterwards that his hair and beard were coloured, he removed him,
     saying, "I could not think one that was faithless in his hair
     could be trusty in his deeds."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Philip._
     Being nimble and light-footed, his father encouraged him to run
     in the Olympic race. "Yes," said he, "if there were any kings
     there to run with me."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Alexander._
     When Darius offered him ten thousand talents, and to divide Asia
     equally with him, "I would accept it," said Parmenio, "were I
     Alexander." "And so truly would I," said Alexander, "if I were
     Parmenio." But he answered Darius that the earth could not bear
     two suns, nor Asia two kings.
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Alexander._
     When he was wounded with an arrow in the ankle, and many ran to
     him that were wont to call him a god, he said smiling, "That is
     blood, as you see, and not, as Homer saith, 'such humour as
     distils from blessed gods.'"
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Alexander._
     Aristodemus, a friend of Antigonus, supposed to be a cook's son,
     advised him to moderate his gifts and expenses. "Thy words," said
     he, "Aristodemus, smell of the apron."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Antigonus I._
     Thrasyllus the Cynic begged a drachm of Antigonus. "That," said
     he, "is too little for a king to give." "Why, then," said the
     other, "give me a talent." "And that," said he, "is too much for
     a Cynic (or, for a dog) to receive."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Antigonus I._
     Antagoras the poet was boiling a conger, and Antigonus, coming
     behind him as he was stirring his skillet, said, "Do you think,
     Antagoras, that Homer boiled congers when he wrote the deeds of
     Agamemnon?" Antagoras replied, "Do you think, O king, that
     Agamemnon, when he did such exploits, was a peeping in his army
     to see who boiled congers?"
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Antigonus I._
     Pyrrhus said, "If I should overcome the Romans in another fight,
     I were undone."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Pyrrhus._
     Themistocles being asked whether he would rather be Achilles or
     Homer, said, "Which would you rather be,--a conqueror in the
     Olympic games, or the crier that proclaims who are conquerors?"
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Themistocles._
     He preferred an honest man that wooed his daughter, before a rich
     man. "I would rather," said Themistocles, "have a man that wants
     money than money that wants a man."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Themistocles._
     Alcibiades had a very handsome dog, that cost him seven thousand
     drachmas; and he cut off his tail, "that," said he, "the
     Athenians may have this story to tell of me, and may concern
     themselves no further with me."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Alcibiades._
     Being summoned by the Athenians out of Sicily to plead for his
     life, Alcibiades absconded, saying that that criminal was a fool
     who studied a defence when he might fly for it.
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Alcibiades._
     Lamachus chid a captain for a fault; and when he had said he
     would do so no more, "Sir," said he, "in war there is no room for
     a second miscarriage." Said one to Iphicrates, "What are ye
     afraid of?" "Of all speeches," said he, "none is so dishonourable
     for a general as 'I should not have thought of it.'"
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Iphicrates._
     To Harmodius, descended from the ancient Harmodius, when he
     reviled Iphicrates [a shoemaker's son] for his mean birth, "My
     nobility," said he, "begins in me, but yours ends in you."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Iphicrates._
     Once when Phocion had delivered an opinion which pleased the
     people, . . . he turned to his friend and said, "Have I not
     unawares spoken some mischievous thing or other?"
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Phocion._
     Phocion compared the speeches of Leosthenes to cypress-trees.
     "They are tall," said he, "and comely, but bear no fruit."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Phocion._
     Lycurgus the Lacedæmonian brought long hair into fashion among
     his countrymen, saying that it rendered those that were handsome
     more beautiful, and those that were deformed more terrible. To
     one that advised him to set up a democracy in Sparta, "Pray,"
     said Lycurgus, "do you first set up a democracy in your own
     house."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Lycurgus._
     King Agis said, "The Lacedæmonians are not wont to ask how many,
     but where the enemy are."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Agis._
     Lysander said, "Where the lion's skin will not reach, it must be
     pieced with the fox's."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Lysander._
     To one that promised to give him hardy cocks that would die
     fighting, "Prithee," said Cleomenes, "give me cocks that will
     kill fighting."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Cleomenes._
     When Eudæmonidas heard a philosopher arguing that only a wise man
     can be a good general, "This is a wonderful speech," said he;
     "but he that saith it never heard the sound of trumpets."
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Eudæmonidas._
     A soldier told Pelopidas, "We are fallen among the enemies." Said
     he, "How are we fallen among them more than they among us?"
_Apophthegms of Kings and Great Commanders. Pelopidas._
     Cato the elder wondered how that city was preserved wherein a
     fish was sold for more than an ox.
_Roman Apophthegms. Cato the Elder._
     Cato instigated the magistrates to punish all offenders, saying
     that they that did not prevent crimes when they might, encouraged
     them.[734-2] Of young men, he liked them that blushed better than
     those who looked pale.
_Roman Apophthegms. Cato the Elder._
     Cato requested old men not to add the disgrace of wickedness to
     old age, which was accompanied with many other evils.
_Roman Apophthegms. Cato the Elder._
     He said they that were serious in ridiculous matters would be
     ridiculous in serious affairs.
_Roman Apophthegms. Cato the Elder._
     Cicero said loud-bawling orators were driven by their weakness to
     noise, as lame men to take horse.
_Roman Apophthegms. Cicero._
     After the battle in Pharsalia, when Pompey was fled, one Nonius
     said they had seven eagles left still, and advised to try what
     they would do. "Your advice," said Cicero, "were good if we were
     to fight jackdaws."
_Roman Apophthegms. Cicero._
     After he routed Pharnaces Ponticus at the first assault, he wrote
     thus to his friends: "I came, I saw, I conquered."
_Roman Apophthegms. Cæsar._
     As Cæsar was at supper the discourse was of death,--which sort
     was the best. "That," said he, "which is unexpected."
_Roman Apophthegms. Cæsar._
     As Athenodorus was taking his leave of Cæsar, "Remember," said
     he, "Cæsar, whenever you are angry, to say or do nothing before
     you have repeated the four-and-twenty letters to yourself."
_Roman Apophthegms. Cæsar Augustus._
     "Young men," said Cæsar, "hear an old man to whom old men
     hearkened when he was young."
_Roman Apophthegms. Cæsar Augustus._
     Remember what Simonides said,--that he never repented that he had
     held his tongue, but often that he had spoken.
_Rules for the Preservation of Health. 7._
     Custom is almost a second nature.
_Rules for the Preservation of Health. 18._
     Epaminondas is reported wittily to have said of a good man that
     died about the time of the battle of Leuctra, "How came he to
     have so much leisure as to die, when there was so much stirring?"
_Rules for the Preservation of Health. 25._
     Have in readiness this saying of Solon, "But we will not give up
     our virtue in exchange for their wealth."
_How to profit by our Enemies._
     Socrates thought that if all our misfortunes were laid in one
     common heap, whence every one must take an equal portion, most
     persons would be contented to take their own and depart.
_Consolation to Apollonius._
     Diogenes the Cynic, when a little before his death he fell into a
     slumber, and his physician rousing him out of it asked him
     whether anything ailed him, wisely answered, "Nothing, sir; only
     one brother anticipates another,--Sleep before Death."
_Consolation to Apollonius._
     About Pontus there are some creatures of such an extempore being
     that the whole term of their life is confined within the space of
     a day; for they are brought forth in the morning, are in the
     prime of their existence at noon, grow old at night, and then
     die.
_Consolation to Apollonius._
     The measure of a man's life is the well spending of it, and not
     the length.
_Consolation to Apollonius._
     For many, as Cranton tells us, and those very wise men, not now
     but long ago, have deplored the condition of human nature,
     esteeming life a punishment, and to be born a man the highest
     pitch of calamity; this, Aristotle tells us, Silenus declared
     when he was brought captive to Midas.
_Consolation to Apollonius._
     There are two sentences inscribed upon the Delphic oracle, hugely
     accommodated to the usages of man's life: "Know thyself,"
     and "Nothing too much;" and upon these all other precepts depend.
_Consolation to Apollonius._
     To one commending an orator for his skill in amplifying petty
     matters, Agesilaus said, "I do not think that shoemaker a good
     workman that makes a great shoe for a little foot."
_Laconic Apophthegms. Of Agesilaus the Great._
     "I will show," said Agesilaus, "that it is not the places that
     grace men, but men the places."
_Laconic Apophthegms. Of Agesilaus the Great._
     When one asked him what boys should learn, "That," said he,
     "which they shall use when men."
_Laconic Apophthegms. Of Agesilaus the Great._
     Agesilaus was very fond of his children; and it is reported that
     once toying with them he got astride upon a reed as upon a horse,
     and rode about the room; and being seen by one of his friends, he
     desired him not to speak of it till he had children of his own.
_Laconic Apophthegms. Of Agesilaus the Great._
     When Demaratus was asked whether he held his tongue because he
     was a fool or for want of words, he replied, "A fool cannot hold
     his tongue."
_Laconic Apophthegms. Of Demaratus._
     Lysander, when Dionysius sent him two gowns, and bade him choose
     which he would carry to his daughter, said, "She can choose
     best," and so took both away with him.
_Laconic Apophthegms. Of Lysander._
     A physician, after he had felt the pulse of Pausanias, and
     considered his constitution, saying, "He ails nothing," "It is
     because, sir," he replied, "I use none of your physic."
_Laconic Apophthegms. Of Pausanias the Son of Phistoanax._
     And when the physician said, "Sir, you are an old man," "That
     happens," replied Pausanias, "because you never were my doctor."
_Laconic Apophthegms. Of Pausanias the Son of Phistoanax._
     When one told Plistarchus that a notorious railer spoke well of
     him, "I 'll lay my life," said he, "somebody hath told him I am
     dead, for he can speak well of no man living."
_Laconic Apophthegms. Of Plistarchus._
     Anacharsis said a man's felicity consists not in the outward and
     visible favours and blessings of Fortune, but in the inward and
     unseen perfections and riches of the mind.
_The Banquet of the Seven Wise Men. 11._
     Said Periander, "Hesiod might as well have kept his breath to
     cool his pottage."
_The Banquet of the Seven Wise Men. 14._
     Socrates said, "Bad men live that they may eat and drink, whereas
     good men eat and drink that they may live."
_How a Young Man ought to hear Poems. 4._
     And Archimedes, as he was washing, thought of a manner of
     computing the proportion of gold in King Hiero's crown by seeing
     the water flowing over the bathing-stool. He leaped up as one
     possessed or inspired, crying, "I have found it! Eureka!"
_Pleasure not attainable according to Epicurus. 11._
     Said Scopas of Thessaly, "We rich men count our felicity and
     happiness to lie in these superfluities, and not in those
     necessary things."
_Of the Love of Wealth._
     That proverbial saying, "Ill news goes quick and far."
_Of Inquisitiveness._
     A traveller at Sparta, standing long upon one leg, said to a
     Lacedæmonian, "I do not believe you can do as much." "True," said
     he, "but every goose can."
_Remarkable Speeches._
     Spintharus, speaking in commendation of Epaminondas, says he
     scarce ever met with any man who knew more and spoke less.
_Of Hearing. 6._
     It is a thing of no great difficulty to raise objections against
     another man's oration,--nay, it is a very easy matter; but to
     produce a better in its place is a work extremely troublesome.
_Of Hearing. 6._
     Antiphanes said merrily, that in a certain city the cold was so
     intense that words were congealed as soon as spoken, but that
     after some time they thawed and became audible; so that the words
     spoken in winter were articulated next summer.
_Of Man's Progress in Virtue._
     As those persons who despair of ever being rich make little
     account of small expenses, thinking that little added to a little
     will never make any great sum.
_Of Man's Progress in Virtue._
     What is bigger than an elephant? But this also is become man's
     plaything, and a spectacle at public solemnities; and it learns
     to skip, dance, and kneel.
_Of Fortune._
     No man ever wetted clay and then left it, as if there would be
     bricks by chance and fortune.
_Of Fortune._
     Alexander was wont to say, "Were I not Alexander, I would be
     Diogenes."
_Of the Fortune or Virtue of Alexander the Great._
     When the candles are out all women are fair.
_Conjugal Precepts._
     Like watermen, who look astern while they row the boat
     ahead.
_Whether 't was rightfully said, Live Concealed._
     Socrates said he was not an Athenian or a Greek, but a citizen of
     the world.
_Of Banishment._
     Anaximander says that men were first produced in fishes, and when
     they were grown up and able to help themselves were thrown up,
     and so lived upon the land.
_Symposiacs. Book. viii. Question viii._
     Athenodorus says hydrophobia, or water-dread, was first
     discovered in the time of Asclepiades.
_Symposiacs. Book. viii. Question ix._
     Let us not wonder if something happens which never was before, or
     if something doth not appear among us with which the ancients
     were acquainted.
_Symposiacs. Book viii. Question ix._
     Why does pouring oil on the sea make it clear and calm? Is it for
     that the winds, slipping the smooth oil, have no force, nor cause
     any waves?
     The great god Pan is dead.
_Why the Oracles cease to give Answers._
     I am whatever was, or is, or will be; and my veil no mortal ever
     took up.
_Of Isis and Osiris._
     When Hermodotus in his poems described Antigonus as the son of
     Helios, "My valet-de-chambre," said he, "is not aware of
     this."
_Of Isis and Osiris._
     There is no debt with so much prejudice put off as that of
     justice.
_Of those whom God is slow to punish._
     It is a difficult thing for a man to resist the natural necessity
     of mortal passions.
_Of those whom God is slow to punish._
     He is a fool who lets slip a bird in the hand for a bird in the
     bush.
_Of Garrulity._
     We are more sensible of what is done against custom than against
     Nature.
_Of Eating of Flesh. Tract 1._
     When Demosthenes was asked what was the first part of oratory, he
     answered, "Action;" and which was the second, he replied,
     "Action;" and which was the third, he still answered, "Action."
_Lives of the Ten Orators._
     Xenophon says that there is no sound more pleasing than one's own
     praises.
_Whether an Aged Man ought to meddle in State Affairs._
     Lampis, the sea commander, being asked how he got his wealth,
     answered, "My greatest estate I gained easily enough, but the
     smaller slowly and with much labour."
_Whether an Aged Man ought to meddle in State Affairs._
     The general himself ought to be such a one as can at the same
     time see both forward and backward.
_Whether an Aged Man ought to meddle in State Affairs._
     Statesmen are not only liable to give an account of what they say
     or do in public, but there is a busy inquiry made into their very
     meals, beds, marriages, and every other sportive or serious
     action.
_Political Precepts._
     Leo Byzantius said, "What would you do, if you saw my wife, who
     scarce reaches up to my knees? . . . Yet," went he on, "as little
     as we are, when we fall out with each other, the city of
     Byzantium is not big enough to hold us."
_Political Precepts._
     Cato said, "I had rather men should ask why my statue is not set
     up, than why it is."
_Political Precepts._
     It was the saying of Bion, that though the boys throw stones at
     frogs in sport, yet the frogs do not die in sport but in
     earnest.
_Which are the most crafty, Water or Land Animals? 7._
     Both Empedocles and Heraclitus held it for a truth that man could
     not be altogether cleared from injustice in dealing with beasts
     as he now does.
_Which are the most crafty, Water or Land Animals? 7._
     For to err in opinion, though it be not the part of wise men, is
     at least human.
_Against Colotes._
     Simonides calls painting silent poetry, and poetry speaking
     painting.
_Whether the Athenians were more Warlike or Learned. 3._
     As Meander says, "For our mind is God;" and as Heraclitus, "Man's
     genius is a deity."
_Platonic Questions. i._
     Pythagoras, when he was asked what time was, answered that it was
     the soul of this world.
_Platonic Questions. viii. 4._
EPICTETUS. _Circa_ 60 A. D.
(_The translation used here is that of Thomas Wentworth Higginson, based
on that of Elizabeth Carter_ (1866).)
     To a reasonable creature, that alone is insupportable which is
     unreasonable; but everything reasonable may be supported.
_Discourses. Chap. ii._
     Yet God hath not only granted these faculties, by which we may
     bear every event without being depressed or broken by it, but
     like a good prince and a true father, hath placed their exercise
     above restraint, compulsion, or hindrance, and wholly without our
     own control.
_Discourses. Chap. vi._
     In a word, neither death, nor exile, nor pain, nor anything of
     this kind is the real cause of our doing or not doing any action,
     but our inward opinions and principles.
_Discourses. Chap. xi._
     Reason is not measured by size or height, but by principle.
_Discourses. Chap. xii._
     O slavish man! will you not bear with your own brother, who has
     God for his Father, as being a son from the same stock, and of
     the same high descent? But if you chance to be placed in some
     superior station, will you presently set yourself up for a
     tyrant?
_Discourses. Chap. xiii._
     When you have shut your doors, and darkened your room, remember
     never to say that you are alone, for you are not alone; but God
     is within, and your genius is within,--and what need have they of
     light to see what you are doing?
_Discourses. Chap. xiv._
     No great thing is created suddenly, any more than a bunch of
     grapes or a fig. If you tell me that you desire a fig, I answer
     you that there must be time. Let it first blossom, then bear
     fruit, then ripen.
_Discourses. Chap. xv._
     Any one thing in the creation is sufficient to demonstrate a
     Providence to an humble and grateful mind.
_Discourses. Chap. xvi._
     Were I a nightingale, I would act the part of a nightingale; were
     I a swan, the part of a swan.
_Discourses. Chap. xvi._
     Since it is Reason which shapes and regulates all other things,
     it ought not itself to be left in disorder.
_Discourses. Chap. xvii._
     If what the philosophers say be true,--that all men's actions
     proceed from one source; that as they assent from a persuasion
     that a thing is so, and dissent from a persuasion that it is not,
     and suspend their judgment from a persuasion that it is
     uncertain,--so likewise they seek a thing from a persuasion that
     it is for their advantage.
_Discourses. Chap. xviii._
     Practise yourself, for heaven's sake, in little things; and
     thence proceed to greater.
_Discourses. Chap. xviii._
     Every art and every faculty contemplates certain things as its
     principal objects.
_Discourses. Chap. xx._
     Why, then, do you walk as if you had swallowed a ramrod?
_Discourses. Chap. xxi._
     When one maintains his proper attitude in life, he does not long
     after externals. What would you have, O man?
_Discourses. Chap. xxi._
     Difficulties are things that show what men are.
_Discourses. Chap. xxiv._
     If we are not stupid or insincere when we say that the good or
     ill of man lies within his own will, and that all beside is
     nothing to us, why are we still troubled?
_Discourses. Chap. xxv._
     In theory there is nothing to hinder our following what we are
     taught; but in life there are many things to draw us aside.
_Discourses. Chap. xxvi._
     Appearances to the mind are of four kinds. Things either are what
     they appear to be; or they neither are, nor appear to be; or they
     are, and do not appear to be; or they are not, and yet appear to
     be. Rightly to aim in all these cases is the wise man's task.
_Discourses. Chap. xxvii._
     The appearance of things to the mind is the standard of every
     action to man.
_That we ought not to be angry with Mankind. Chap. xxviii._
     The essence of good and evil is a certain disposition of the
     will.
_Of Courage. Chap. xxix._
     It is not reasonings that are wanted now; for there are books
     stuffed full of stoical reasonings.
_Of Courage. Chap. xxix._
     For what constitutes a child?--Ignorance. What constitutes a
     child?--Want of instruction; for they are our equals so far as
     their degree of knowledge permits.
_That Courage is not inconsistent with Caution. Book ii. Chap. i._
     Appear to know only this,--never to fail nor fall.
_That Courage is not inconsistent with Caution. Book ii. Chap. i._
     The materials of action are variable, but the use we make of them
     should be constant.
_How Nobleness of Mind may be consistent with Prudence. Chap. v._
     Shall I show you the muscular training of a philosopher? "What
     muscles are those?"--A will undisappointed; evils avoided; powers
     daily exercised; careful resolutions; unerring decisions.
_Wherein consists the Essence of Good. Chap. viii._
     Dare to look up to God and say, "Make use of me for the future as
     Thou wilt. I am of the same mind; I am one with Thee. I refuse
     nothing which seems good to Thee. Lead me whither Thou wilt.
     Clothe me in whatever dress Thou wilt."
_That we do not study to make Use of the established Principles
concerning Good and Evil. Chap. xvi._
     What is the first business of one who studies philosophy? To part
     with self-conceit. For it is impossible for any one to begin to
     learn what he thinks that he already knows.
_How to apply general Principles to particular Cases. Chap. xvii._
     Every habit and faculty is preserved and increased by
     correspondent actions,--as the habit of walking, by walking; of
     running, by running.
_How the Semblances of Things are to be combated. Chap. xviii._
     Whatever you would make habitual, practise it; and if you would
     not make a thing habitual, do not practise it, but habituate
     yourself to something else.
_How the Semblances of Things are to be combated. Chap. xviii._
     Reckon the days in which you have not been angry. I used to be
     angry every day; now every other day; then every third and fourth
     day; and if you miss it so long as thirty days, offer a sacrifice
     of thanksgiving to God.
_How the Semblances of Things are to be combated. Chap. xviii._
     Be not hurried away by excitement, but say, "Semblance, wait for
     me a little. Let me see what you are and what you represent. Let
     me try you."
_How the Semblances of Things are to be combated. Chap. xviii._
     Things true and evident must of necessity be recognized by those
     who would contradict them.
_Concerning the Epicureans. Chap. xx._
     There are some things which men confess with ease, and others
     with difficulty.
_Of Inconsistency. Chap. xxi._
     Who is there whom bright and agreeable children do not attract to
     play and creep and prattle with them?
_Concerning a Person whom he treated with Disregard. Chap. xxiv._
     Two rules we should always have ready,--that there is nothing
     good or evil save in the will; and that we are not to lead
     events, but to follow them.
_In what Manner we ought to bear Sickness. Book iii. Chap. x._
     In every affair consider what precedes and what follows, and then
     undertake it.
_That Everything is to be undertaken with Circumspection. Chap. xv._
     There is a fine circumstance connected with the character of a
     Cynic,--that he must be beaten like an ass, and yet when beaten
     must love those who beat him, as the father, as the brother of
     all.
_Of the Cynic Philosophy. Chap. xxii._
     First say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you
     have to do.
_Concerning such as read and dispute ostentatiously. Chap. xxiii._
     Let not another's disobedience to Nature become an ill to you;
     for you were not born to be depressed and unhappy with others,
     but to be happy with them. And if any is unhappy, remember that
     he is so for himself; for God made all men to enjoy felicity and
     peace.
_That we ought not to be affected by Things not in our own Power. Chap.
xxiv._
     Everything has two handles,--one by which it may be borne;
     another by which it cannot.
_Enchiridion. xliii._
TACITUS. 54-119 A. D.
(_The Oxford Translation. Bohn's Classical Library._)
     The images of twenty of the most illustrious families--the
     Manlii, the Quinctii, and other names of equal splendour--were
     carried before it [the bier of Junia]. Those of Brutus and
     Cassius were not displayed; but for that very reason they shone
     with pre-eminent lustre.
_Annales. iii. 76. 11._
     He had talents equal to business, and aspired no higher.
_Annales. vi. 39, 17._
     He [Tiberius] upbraided Macro, in no obscure and indirect terms,
     "with forsaking the setting sun and turning to the
     rising."
_Annales. vi. 52_ (46).
     He possessed a peculiar talent of producing effect in whatever he
     said or did.
_Historiæ. ii. 80._
     Some might consider him as too fond of fame; for the desire of
     glory clings even to the best men longer than any other
     passion.
_Historiæ. iv. 6._
     The gods looked with favour on superior courage.
_Historiæ. iv. 17._
     They make solitude, which they call peace.
_Agricola. 30._
     Think of your ancestors and your posterity.
_Agricola. 32._
     It belongs to human nature to hate those you have injured.
_Agricola. 42._
PLINY THE YOUNGER. 61-105 A. D.
(_Translation by William Melmoth. Bohn's Classical Library._)
     Modestus said of Regulus that he was "the biggest rascal that
     walks upon two legs."
_Letters._[748-1] _Book i. Letter v. 14._
     There is nothing to write about, you say. Well, then, write and
     let me know just this,--that there _is_ nothing to write about;
     or tell me in the good old style if you are well. That 's right.
     I am quite well.
_Letters. Book i. Letter xi. 1._
     Never do a thing concerning the rectitude of which you are in
     doubt.
_Letters. Book i. Letter xviii. 5._
     The living voice is that which sways the soul.
_Letters. Book ii. Letter iii. 9._
     An object in possession seldom retains the same charm that it had
     in pursuit.
_Letters. Book ii. Letter xv. 1._
     He [Pliny the Elder] used to say that "no book was so bad but
     some good might be got out of it."
_Letters. Book iii. Letter v. 10._
     This expression of ours, "Father of a family."
_Letters. Book v. Letter xix. 2._
     That indolent but agreeable condition of doing nothing.
_Letters. Book viii. Letter ix. 3._
     Objects which are usually the motives of our travels by land and
     by sea are often overlooked and neglected if they lie under our
     eye. . . . We put off from time to time going and seeing what we
     know we have an opportunity of seeing when we please.
_Letters. Book viii. Letter xx. 1._
     His only fault is that he has no fault.
_Letters. Book ix. Letter xxvi. 1._
MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS. 121-180 A. D.
(_Translated by M. H. Morgan, Ph. D., of Harvard University._)
     This Being of mine, whatever it really is, consists of a little
     flesh, a little breath, and the part which governs.
_Meditations. ii. 2._
     The ways of the gods are full of providence.
_Meditations. ii. 3._
     Thou wilt find rest from vain fancies if thou doest every act in
     life as though it were thy last.
_Meditations. ii. 5._
     Thou seest how few be the things, the which if a man has at his
     command his life flows gently on and is divine.
_Meditations. ii. 5._
     Find time still to be learning somewhat good, and give up being
     desultory.
_Meditations. ii. 7._
     No state sorrier than that of the man who keeps up a continual
     round, and pries into "the secrets of the nether world," as saith
     the poet, and is curious in conjecture of what is in his
     neighbour's heart.
_Meditations. ii. 13._
     Though thou be destined to live three thousand years and as many
     myriads besides, yet remember that no man loseth other life than
     that which he liveth, nor liveth other than that which he loseth.
_Meditations. ii. 14._
     For a man can lose neither the past nor the future; for how can
     one take from him that which is not his? So remember these two
     points: first, that each thing is of like form from everlasting
     and comes round again in its cycle, and that it signifies not
     whether a man shall look upon the same things for a hundred years
     or two hundred, or for an infinity of time; second, that the
     longest lived and the shortest lived man, when they come to die,
     lose one and the same thing.
_Meditations. ii. 14._
     As for life, it is a battle and a sojourning in a strange land;
     but the fame that comes after is oblivion.
_Meditations. ii. 17._
     Waste not the remnant of thy life in those imaginations touching
     other folk, whereby thou contributest not to the common weal.
_Meditations. iii. 4._
     The lot assigned to every man is suited to him, and suits him to
     itself.
_Meditations. iii. 4._
     Be not unwilling in what thou doest, neither selfish nor
     unadvised nor obstinate; let not over-refinement deck out thy
     thought; be not wordy nor a busybody.
_Meditations. iii. 5._
     A man should _be_ upright, not be _kept_ upright.
_Meditations. iii. 5._
     Never esteem anything as of advantage to thee that shall make
     thee break thy word or lose thy self-respect.
_Meditations. iii. 7._
     Respect the faculty that forms thy judgments.
_Meditations. iii. 9._
     Remember that man's life lies all within this present, as 't were
     but a hair's-breadth of time; as for the rest, the past is gone,
     the future yet unseen. Short, therefore, is man's life, and
     narrow is the corner of the earth wherein he dwells.
_Meditations. iii. 10._
     Nothing has such power to broaden the mind as the ability to
     investigate systematically and truly all that comes under thy
     observation in life.
_Meditations. iii. 11._
     As surgeons keep their instruments and knives always at hand for
     cases requiring immediate treatment, so shouldst thou have thy
     thoughts ready to understand things divine and human, remembering
     in thy every act, even the smallest, how close is the bond that
     unites the two.
_Meditations. iii. 13._
     The ruling power within, when it is in its natural state, is so
     related to outer circumstances that it easily changes to accord
     with what can be done and what is given it to do.
_Meditations. iv. 1._
     Let no act be done at haphazard, nor otherwise than according to
     the finished rules that govern its kind.
_Meditations. iv. 2._
     By a tranquil mind I mean nothing else than a mind well ordered.
_Meditations. iv. 3._
     Think on this doctrine,--that reasoning beings were created for
     one another's sake; that to be patient is a branch of justice,
     and that men sin without intending it.
_Meditations. iv. 3._
     The universe is change; our life is what our thoughts make it.
_Meditations. iv. 3._
     Nothing can come out of nothing, any more than a thing can go
     back to nothing.
_Meditations. iv. 4._
     Death, like generation, is a secret of Nature.
_Meditations. iv. 5._
     That which makes the man no worse than he was makes his life no
     worse: it has no power to harm, without or within.
_Meditations. iv. 8._
     Whatever happens at all happens as it should; thou wilt find this
     true, if thou shouldst watch narrowly.
_Meditations. iv. 10._
     Many the lumps of frankincense on the same altar; one falls there
     early and another late, but it makes no difference.
_Meditations. iv. 15._
     Be not as one that hath ten thousand years to live; death is nigh
     at hand: while thou livest, while thou hast time, be good.
_Meditations. iv. 17._
     How much time he gains who does not look to see what his
     neighbour says or does or thinks, but only at what he does
     himself, to make it just and holy.
_Meditations. iv. 18._
     Whatever is in any way beautiful hath its source of beauty in
     itself, and is complete in itself; praise forms no part of it. So
     it is none the worse nor the better for being praised.
_Meditations. iv. 20._
     Doth perfect beauty stand in need of praise at all? Nay; no more
     than law, no more than truth, no more than loving kindness, nor
     than modesty.
_Meditations. iv. 20._
     All that is harmony for thee, O Universe, is in harmony with me
     as well. Nothing that comes at the right time for thee is too
     early or too late for me. Everything is fruit to me that thy
     seasons bring, O Nature. All things come of thee, have their
     being in thee, and return to thee.
_Meditations. iv. 23._
     "Let thine occupations be few," saith the sage,[752-1] "if thou
     wouldst lead a tranquil life."
_Meditations. iv. 24._
     Love the little trade which thou hast learned, and be content
     therewith.
_Meditations. iv. 31._
     Remember this,--that there is a proper dignity and proportion to
     be observed in the performance of every act of life.
_Meditations. iv. 32._
     All is ephemeral,--fame and the famous as well.
_Meditations. iv. 35._
     Observe always that everything is the result of a change, and get
     used to thinking that there is nothing Nature loves so well as to
     change existing forms and to make new ones like them.
_Meditations. iv. 36._
     Search men's governing principles, and consider the wise, what
     they shun and what they cleave to.
_Meditations. iv. 38._
     Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its
     current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept
     by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away.
_Meditations. iv. 43._
     All that happens is as usual and familiar as the rose in spring
     and the crop in summer.
_Meditations. iv. 44._
     That which comes after ever conforms to that which has gone
     before.
_Meditations. iv. 45._
     Mark how fleeting and paltry is the estate of man,--yesterday in
     embryo, to-morrow a mummy or ashes. So for the hair's-breadth of
     time assigned to thee live rationally, and part with life
     cheerfully, as drops the ripe olive, extolling the season that
     bore it and the tree that matured it.
_Meditations. iv. 48._
     Deem not life a thing of consequence. For look at the yawning
     void of the future, and at that other limitless space, the past.
_Meditations. iv. 50._
     Always take the short cut; and that is the rational one.
     Therefore say and do everything according to soundest reason.
_Meditations. iv. 51._
     In the morning, when thou art sluggish at rousing thee, let this
     thought be present; "I am rising to a man's work."
_Meditations. v. 1._
     A man makes no noise over a good deed, but passes on to another
     as a vine to bear grapes again in season.
_Meditations. v. 6._
     Flinch not, neither give up nor despair, if the achieving of
     every act in accordance with right principle is not always
     continuous with thee.
_Meditations. v. 9._
     Nothing happens to anybody which he is not fitted by nature to
     bear.
_Meditations. v. 18._
     Prize that which is best in the universe; and this is that which
     useth everything and ordereth everything.
_Meditations. v. 21._
     Live with the gods.
_Meditations. v. 27._
     Look beneath the surface; let not the several quality of a thing
     nor its worth escape thee.
_Meditations. vi. 3._
     The controlling Intelligence understands its own nature, and what
     it does, and whereon it works.
_Meditations. vi. 5._
     Do not think that what is hard for thee to master is impossible
     for man; but if a thing is possible and proper to man, deem it
     attainable by thee.
_Meditations. vi. 19._
     If any man can convince me and bring home to me that I do not
     think or act aright, gladly will I change; for I search after
     truth, by which man never yet was harmed. But he is harmed who
     abideth on still in his deception and ignorance.
_Meditations. vi. 21._
     Death,--a stopping of impressions through the senses, and of the
     pulling of the cords of motion, and of the ways of thought, and
     of service to the flesh.
_Meditations. vi. 28._
     Suit thyself to the estate in which thy lot is cast.
_Meditations. vi. 39._
     What is not good for the swarm is not good for the bee.
_Meditations. vi. 54._
     How many, once lauded in song, are given over to the forgotten;
     and how many who sung their praises are clean gone long ago!
_Meditations. vii. 6._
     One Universe made up of all that is; and one God in it all, and
     one principle of Being, and one Law, the Reason, shared by all
     thinking creatures, and one Truth.
_Meditations. vii. 9._
     To a rational being it is the same thing to act according to
     nature and according to reason.
_Meditations. vii. 11._
     Let not thy mind run on what thou lackest as much as on what thou
     hast already.
_Meditations. vii. 27._
     Just as the sand-dunes, heaped one upon another, hide each the
     first, so in life the former deeds are quickly hidden by those
     that follow after.
_Meditations. vii. 34._
     The art of living is more like wrestling than dancing, in so far
     as it stands ready against the accidental and the unforeseen, and
     is not apt to fall.
_Meditations. vii. 61._
     Remember this,--that very little is needed to make a happy life.
_Meditations. vii. 67._
     Remember that to change thy mind and to follow him that sets thee
     right, is to be none the less the free agent that thou wast
     before.
_Meditations. viii. 16._
     Look to the essence of a thing, whether it be a point of
     doctrine, of practice, or of interpretation.
_Meditations. viii. 22._
     A man's happiness,--to do the things proper to man.
_Meditations. viii. 26._
     Be not careless in deeds, nor confused in words, nor rambling in
     thought.
_Meditations. viii. 51._
     He that knows not what the world is, knows not where he is
     himself. He that knows not for what he was made, knows not what
     he is nor what the world is.
_Meditations. viii. 52._
     The nature of the universe is the nature of things that are. Now,
     things that are have kinship with things that are from the
     beginning. Further, this nature is styled Truth; and it is the
     first cause of all that is true.
_Meditations. ix. 1._
     He would be the finer gentleman that should leave the world
     without having tasted of lying or pretence of any sort, or of
     wantonness or conceit.
_Meditations. ix. 2._
     Think not disdainfully of death, but look on it with favour; for
     even death is one of the things that Nature wills.
_Meditations. ix. 3._
     A wrong-doer is often a man that has left something undone, not
     always he that has done something.
_Meditations. ix. 5._
     Blot out vain pomp; check impulse; quench appetite; keep reason
     under its own control.
_Meditations. ix. 7._
     Things that have a common quality ever quickly seek their kind.
_Meditations. ix. 9._
     All things are the same,--familiar in enterprise, momentary in
     endurance, coarse in substance. All things now are as they were
     in the day of those whom we have buried.
_Meditations. ix. 14._
     The happiness and unhappiness of the rational, social animal
     depends not on what he feels but on what he does; just as his
     virtue and vice consist not in feeling but in doing.
_Meditations. ix. 16._
     Everything is in a state of metamorphosis. Thou thyself art in
     everlasting change and in corruption to correspond; so is the
     whole universe.
_Meditations. ix. 19._
     Forward, as occasion offers. Never look round to see whether any
     shall note it. . . . Be satisfied with success in even the
     smallest matter, and think that even such a result is no trifle.
_Meditations. ix. 29._
     He that dies in extreme old age will be reduced to the same state
     with him that is cut down untimely.
_Meditations. ix. 33._
     Whatever may befall thee, it was preordained for thee from
     everlasting.
_Meditations. x. 5._
     "The earth loveth the shower," and "the holy ether knoweth what
     love is."[756-1] The Universe, too, loves to create whatsoever is
     destined to be made.
_Meditations. x. 21._
     Remember that what pulls the strings is the force hidden within;
     there lies the power to persuade, there the life,--there, if one
     must speak out, the real man.
_Meditations. x. 38._
     No form of Nature is inferior to Art; for the arts merely imitate
     natural forms.
_Meditations. xi. 10._
     If it is not seemly, do it not; if it is not true, speak it not.
_Meditations. xii. 17._
TERTULLIAN. 160-240 A. D.
     See how these Christians love one another.
_Apologeticus. c. 39._
     Blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.
_Apologeticus. c. 50._
     It is certain because it is impossible.
_De Carne Christi. c. 5._
     He who flees will fight again.
_De Fuga in Persecutione. c. 10._
DIOGENES LAERTIUS. _Circa_ 200 A. D.
(_From "The Lives and Opinions of Eminent Philosophers." Translated by C.
D. Yonge, B. A., with occasional corrections. Bohn's Classical Library._)
     Alcæus mentions Aristodemus in these  lines:
    'T is money makes the man; and he who 's none
    Is counted neither good nor honourable.
_Thales. vii._
     Thales said there was no difference between life and death. "Why,
     then," said some one to him, "do not you die?" "Because," said
     he, "it _does_ make no difference."
_Thales. ix._
     When Thales was asked what was difficult, he said, "To know one's
     self." And what was easy, "To advise another."
_Thales. ix._
     He said that men ought to remember those friends who were absent
     as well as those who were present.
_Thales. ix._
     The apophthegm "Know thyself" is his.
_Thales. xiii._
     Writers differ with respect to the apophthegms of the Seven
     Sages, attributing the same one to various authors.
_Thales. xiv._
     Solon used to say that speech was the image of actions; . . .
     that laws were like cobwebs,--for that if any trifling or
     powerless thing fell into them, they held it fast; while if it
     were something weightier, it broke through them and was off.
_Solon. x._
     Solon gave the following advice: "Consider your honour, as a
     gentleman, of more weight than an oath. Never tell a lie. Pay
     attention to matters of importance."
_Solon. xii._
     As some say, Solon was the author of the apophthegm, "Nothing in
     excess."
_Solon. xvi._
     Chilo advised, "not to speak evil of the dead."
_Chilo. ii._
     Pittacus said that half was more than the whole.
_Pittacus. ii._
     Heraclitus says that Pittacus, when he had got Alcæus into his
     power, released him, saying, "Forgiveness is better than
     revenge."
_Pittacus. iii._
     One of his sayings was, "Even the gods cannot strive against
     necessity."
_Pittacus. iv._
     Another was, "Watch your opportunity."
_Pittacus. vii._
     Bias used to say that men ought to calculate life both as if they
     were fated to live a long and a short time, and that they ought
     to love one another as if at a future time they would come to
     hate one another; for that most men were bad.
_Bias. v._
     Ignorance plays the chief part among men, and the multitude of
     words;[758-5] but opportunity will prevail.
_Cleobulus. iv._
     The saying, "Practice is everything," is Periander's.
_Periander. vi._
     Anarcharsis, on learning that the sides of a ship were four
     fingers thick, said that "the passengers were just that distance
     from death."
_Anarcharsis. v._
     He used to say that it was better to have one friend of great
     value than many friends who were good for nothing.
_Anarcharsis. v._
     It was a common saying of Myson that men ought not to investigate
     things from words, but words from things; for that things are not
     made for the sake of words, but words for things.
_Myson. iii._
     Epimenides was sent by his father into the field to look for a
     sheep, turned out of the road at mid-day and lay down in a
     certain cave and fell asleep, and slept there fifty-seven years;
     and after that, when awake, he went on looking for the sheep,
     thinking that he had been taking a short nap.
_Epimenides. ii._
     There are many marvellous stories told of Pherecydes. For it is
     said that he was walking along the seashore at Samos, and that
     seeing a ship sailing by with a fair wind, he said that it would
     soon sink; and presently it sank before his eyes. At another time
     he was drinking some water which had been drawn up out of a well,
     and he foretold that within three days there would be an
     earthquake; and there was one.
_Pherecydes. ii._
     Anaximander used to assert that the primary cause of all things
     was the Infinite,--not defining exactly whether he meant air or
     water or anything else.
_Anaximander. ii._
     Anaxagoras said to a man who was grieving because he was dying in
     a foreign land, "The descent to Hades is the same from every
     place."
_Anaxagoras. vi._
     Aristophanes turns Socrates into ridicule in his comedies, as
     making the worse appear the better reason.
_Socrates. v._
     Often when he was looking on at auctions he would say, "How many
     things there are which I do not need!"
_Socrates. x._
     Socrates said, "Those who want fewest things are nearest to the
     gods."
_Socrates. xi._
     He said that there was one only good, namely, knowledge; and one
     only evil, namely, ignorance.
_Socrates. xiv._
     He declared that he knew nothing, except the fact of his
     ignorance.
_Socrates. xvi._
     Being asked whether it was better to marry or not, he replied,
     "Whichever you do, you will repent it."
_Socrates. xvi._
     He used to say that other men lived to eat, but that he ate to
     live.
_Socrates. xvi._
     Aristippus being asked what were the most necessary things for
     well-born boys to learn, said, "Those things which they will put
     in practice when they become men."
_Aristippus. iv._
     Aristippus said that a wise man's country was the world.
_Aristippus. xiii._
     Like sending owls to Athens, as the proverb goes.
_Plato. xxxii._
     Plato affirmed that the soul was immortal and clothed in many
     bodies successively.
_Plato. xl._
     Time is the image of eternity.
_Plato. xli._
     That virtue was sufficient of herself for happiness.
_Plato. xlii._
     That the gods superintend all the affairs of men, and that there
     are such beings as dæmons.
_Plato. xlii._
     There is a written and an unwritten law. The one by which we
     regulate our constitutions in our cities is the written law; that
     which arises from custom is the unwritten law.
_Plato. li._
     Plato was continually saying to Xenocrates, "Sacrifice to the
     Graces."
_Xenocrates. iii._
     Arcesilaus had a peculiar habit while conversing of using the
     expression, "My opinion is," and "So and so will not agree to
     this."
_Arcesilaus. xii._
     Bion used to say that the way to the shades below was easy; he
     could go there with his eyes shut.
_Bion. iii._
     Once when Bion was at sea in the company of some wicked men, he
     fell into the hands of pirates; and when the rest said, "We are
     undone if we are known,"--"But I," said he, "am undone if we are
     not known."
_Bion. iii._
     Of a rich man who was niggardly he said, "That man does not own
     his estate, but his estate owns him."
_Bion. iii._
     Bion insisted on the principle that "The property of friends is
     common."
_Bion. ix._
     Very late in life, when he was studying geometry, some one said
     to Lacydes, "Is it then a time for you to be learning now?" "If
     it is not," he replied, "when will it be?"
_Lacydes. v._
     Aristotle was once asked what those who tell lies gain by it.
     Said he, "That when they speak truth they are not believed."
_Aristotle. xi._
     The question was put to him, what hope is; and his answer was,
     "The dream of a waking man."
_Aristotle. xi._
     He used to say that personal beauty was a better introduction
     than any letter;[761-3] but others say that it was Diogenes who
     gave this description of it, while Aristotle called beauty "the
     gift of God;" that Socrates called it "a short-lived tyranny;"
     Theophrastus, "a silent deceit;" Theocritus, "an ivory mischief;"
     Carneades, "a sovereignty which stood in need of no guards."
_Aristotle. xi._
     On one occasion Aristotle was asked how much educated men were
     superior to those uneducated: "As much," said he, "as the living
     are to the dead."
_Aristotle. xi._
     It was a saying of his that education was an ornament in
     prosperity and a refuge in adversity.
_Aristotle. xi._
     He was once asked what a friend is, and his answer was, "One soul
     abiding in two bodies."
_Aristotle. xi._
     Asked what he gained from philosophy, he answered, "To do without
     being commanded what others do from fear of the laws."
_Aristotle. xi._
     The question was once put to him, how we ought to behave to our
     friends; and the answer he gave was, "As we should wish our
     friends to behave to us."
_Aristotle. xi._
     He used to define justice as "a virtue of the soul distributing
     that which each person deserved."
_Aristotle. xi._
     Another of his sayings was, that education was the best viaticum
     of old age.
_Aristotle. xi._
     The chief good he has defined to be the exercise of virtue in a
     perfect life.
_Aristotle. xiii._
     He used to teach that God is incorporeal, as Plato also asserted,
     and that his providence extends over all the heavenly bodies.
_Aristotle. xiii._
     It was a favourite expression of Theophrastus that time was the
     most valuable thing that a man could spend.
_Theophrastus. x._
     Antisthenes used to say that envious people were devoured by
     their own disposition, just as iron is by rust.
_Antisthenes. iv._
     When he was praised by some wicked men, he said, "I am sadly
     afraid that I must have done some wicked thing."
_Antisthenes. iv._
     When asked what learning was the most necessary, he said, "Not to
     unlearn what you have learned."
_Antisthenes. iv._
     Diogenes would frequently praise those who were about to marry,
     and yet did not marry.
_Diogenes. iv._
     "Bury me on my face," said Diogenes; and when he was asked why,
     he replied, "Because in a little while everything will be turned
     upside down."
_Diogenes. vi._
     One of the sayings of Diogenes was that most men were within a
     finger's breadth of being mad; for if a man walked with his
     middle finger pointing out, folks would think him mad, but not so
     if it were his forefinger.
_Diogenes. vi._
     All things are in common among friends.
_Diogenes. vi._
     "Be of good cheer," said Diogenes; "I see land."
_Diogenes. vi._
     Plato having defined man to be a two-legged animal without
     feathers, Diogenes plucked a cock and brought it into the
     Academy, and said, "This is Plato's man." On which account this
     addition was made to the definition,--"With broad flat nails."
_Diogenes. vi._
     A man once asked Diogenes what was the proper time for supper,
     and he made answer, "If you are a rich man, whenever you please;
     and if you are a poor man, whenever you can."
_Diogenes. vi._
     Diogenes lighted a candle in the daytime, and went round saying,
     "I am looking for a man."
_Diogenes. vi._
     When asked what he would take to let a man give him a blow on the
     head, he said, "A helmet."
_Diogenes. vi._
     Once he saw a youth blushing, and addressed him, "Courage, my
     boy! that is the complexion of virtue."
_Diogenes. vi._
     When asked what wine he liked to drink, he replied, "That which
     belongs to another."
_Diogenes. vi._
     Asked from what country he came, he replied, "I am a citizen of
     the world."
_Diogenes. vi._
     When a man reproached him for going into unclean places, he said,
     "The sun too penetrates into privies, but is not polluted by
     them."
_Diogenes. vi._
     Diogenes said once to a person who was showing him a dial, "It is
     a very useful thing to save a man from being too late for
     supper."
_Menedemus. iii._
     When Zeno was asked what a friend was, he replied, "Another
     I."
_Zeno. xix._
     They say that the first inclination which an animal has is to
     protect itself.
_Zeno. lii._
     One ought to seek out virtue for its own sake, without being
     influenced by fear or hope, or by any external influence.
     Moreover, that in _that_ does happiness consist.
_Zeno. liii._
     The Stoics also teach that God is unity, and that he is called
     Mind and Fate and Jupiter, and by many other names besides.
_Zeno. lxviii._
     They also say that God is an animal immortal, rational, perfect,
     and intellectual in his happiness, unsusceptible of any kind of
     evil, having a foreknowledge of the universe and of all that is
     in the universe; however, that he has not the figure of a man;
     and that he is the creator of the universe, and as it were the
     Father of all things in common, and that a portion of him
     pervades everything.
_Zeno. lxxii._
     But Chrysippus, Posidonius, Zeno, and Boëthus say, that all
     things are produced by fate. And fate is a connected cause of
     existing things, or the reason according to which the world is
     regulated.
_Zeno. lxxiv._
     Apollodorus says, "If any one were to take away from the books of
     Chrysippus all the passages which he quotes from other authors,
     his paper would be left empty."
_Chrysippus. iii._
     One of the sophisms of Chrysippus was, "If you have not lost a
     thing, you have it."
_Chrysippus. xi._
     Pythagoras used to say that he had received as a gift from
     Mercury the perpetual transmigration of his soul, so that it was
     constantly transmigrating and passing into all sorts of plants or
     animals.
_Pythagoras. iv._
     He calls drunkenness an expression identical with ruin.
_Pythagoras. vi._
     Among what he called his precepts were such as these: Do not stir
     the fire with a sword. Do not sit down on a bushel. Do not devour
     thy heart.
_Pythagoras. xvii._
     In the time of Pythagoras that proverbial phrase "Ipse
     dixit"[765-3] was introduced into ordinary life.
_Pythagoras. xxv._
     Xenophanes was the first person who asserted . . . that the soul
     is a spirit.
_Xenophanes. iii._
     It takes a wise man to discover a wise man.
_Xenophanes. iii._
     Protagoras asserted that there were two sides to every question,
     exactly opposite to each other.
_Protagoras. iii._
     Nothing can be produced out of nothing.
_Diogenes of Apollonia. ii._
     Xenophanes speaks  thus:
    And no man knows distinctly anything,
    And no man ever will.
_Pyrrho. viii._
     Democritus says, "But we know nothing really; for truth lies deep
     down."
_Pyrrho. viii._
     Euripides  says,
    Who knows but that this life is really death,
    And whether death is not what men call life?
_Pyrrho. viii._
     The mountains, too, at a distance appear airy masses and smooth,
     but seen near at hand, they are rough.
_Pyrrho. ix._
     If appearances are deceitful, then they do not deserve any
     confidence when they assert what appears to them to be true.
_Pyrrho. xi._
     The chief good is the suspension of the judgment, which
     tranquillity of mind follows like its shadow.
_Pyrrho. xi._
     Epicurus laid down the doctrine that pleasure was the chief good.
_Epicurus. vi._
     He alludes to the appearance of a face in the orb of the moon.
_Epicurus. xxv._
     Fortune is unstable, while our will is free.
_Epicurus. xxvii._
ATHENÆUS. _Circa_ 200 A. D.
(_Translation by C. D. Yonge, B. A._)
     It was a saying of Demetrius Phalereus, that "Men having often
     abandoned what was visible for the sake of what was uncertain,
     have not got what they expected, and have lost what they
     had,--being unfortunate by an enigmatical sort of
     calamity."
_The Deipnosophists. vi. 23._
     Every investigation which is guided by principles of Nature fixes
     its ultimate aim entirely on gratifying the stomach.
_The Deipnosophists. vii. 11._
     Dorion, ridiculing the description of a tempest in the "Nautilus"
     of Timotheus, said that he had seen a more formidable storm in a
     boiling saucepan.
_The Deipnosophists. viii. 19._
     On one occasion some one put a very little wine into a
     wine-cooler, and said that it was sixteen years old. "It is very
     small for its age," said Gnathæna.
_The Deipnosophists. xiii. 47._
     Goodness does not consist in greatness, but greatness in
     goodness.
_The Deipnosophists. xiv. 46._
SAINT AUGUSTINE. 354-430.
     When I am here, I do not fast on Saturday; when at Rome, I do
     fast on Saturday.
_Epistle 36. To Casulanus._
     The spiritual virtue of a sacrament is like light,--although it
     passes among the impure, it is not polluted.
_Works. Vol. iii. In Johannis Evangelum, c. tr. 5, Sect. 15._
ALI BEN ABI TALEB.[767-6] ---- -660.
    Believe me, a thousand friends suffice thee not;
    In a single enemy thou hast more than enough.
OMAR KHAYYÁM. ---- -1123.
(_Translated by Edward Fitzgerald._)
    I sometimes think that never blows so red
    The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled;
      That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
    Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
_Rubáiyát. Stanza xix._
    A Moment's Halt--a momentary taste
    Of BEING from the Well amid the Waste
      And, Lo! the phantom Caravan has reach'd
    The NOTHING it set out from. Oh, make haste!
_Rubáiyát. Stanza xlviii._
    Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
    And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire.
_Rubáiyát. Stanza lxvii._
    The Moving Finger writes; and having writ,
    Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit
      Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
    Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
_Rubáiyát. Stanza lxxi._
    And this I know: whether the one True Light
    Kindle to Love, or Wrath-consume me quite,
      One Flash of It within the Tavern caught
    Better than in the Temple lost outright.
_Rubáiyát. Stanza lxxvii._
    And when like her, O Sáki, you shall pass
    Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
      And in your blissful errand reach the spot
    Where I made One--turn down an empty Glass.
_Rubáiyát. Stanza ci._
ALPHONSO THE WISE. 1221-1284.
     Had I been present at the creation, I would have given some
     useful hints for the better ordering of the universe.
DANTE. 1265-1321.
(_Cary's Translation._)
    All hope abandon, ye who enter here.
_Hell. Canto iii. Line 9._
        The wretched souls of those who lived
    Without or praise or blame.
_Hell. Canto iii. Line 34._
    No greater grief than to remember days
    Of joy when misery is at hand.
_Hell. Canto v. Line 121._
FRANÇOIS VILLON. _Circa_ 1430-1484.
    Where are the snows of last year?
_Des Dames du Temps jadis. i._
    I know everything except myself.
_Autre Ballade. i._
    Good talkers are only found in Paris.
_Des Femmes de Paris. ii._
MICHELANGELO. 1474-1564.
(_Translation by Mrs. Henry Roscoe._)
    As when, O lady mine!
    With chiselled touch
    The stone unhewn and cold
    Becomes a living mould.
    The more the marble wastes,
    The more the statue grows.
_Sonnet._
MARTIN LUTHER. 1483-1546.
    A mighty fortress is our God,
      A bulwark never failing;
    Our helper He amid the flood
      Of mortal ills prevailing.
_Psalm. Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott_ (trans. by Frederic H. Hedge).
     Tell your master that if there were as many devils at Worms as
     tiles on its roofs, I would enter.
     Here I stand; I can do no otherwise. God help me. Amen!
_Speech at the Diet of Worms._
     For where God built a church, there the Devil would also build a
     chapel.
_Table-Talk. lxvii._
     A faithful and good servant is a real godsend; but truly 't is a
     rare bird in the land.
_Table-Talk. clvi._
FRANCIS RABELAIS. 1495-1553.
     I am just going to leap into the dark.
_Motteux's Life._
     Let down the curtain: the farce is done.
_Motteux's Life._
     He left a paper sealed up, wherein were found three articles as
     his last will: "I owe much; I have nothing; I give the rest to
     the poor."
_Motteux's Life._
    One inch of joy surmounts of grief a span,
    Because to laugh is proper to the man.
_To the Reader._
     To return to our wethers.
_Works. Book i. Chap. i. n. 2._
     I drink no more than a sponge.
_Works. Book i. Chap. v._
     Appetite comes with eating, says Angeston.
_Works. Book i. Chap. v._
     Thought the moon was made of green cheese.
_Works. Book i. Chap. xi._
     He always looked a given horse in the mouth.
_Works. Book i. Chap. xi._
     By robbing Peter he paid Paul,[771-4] . . . and hoped to catch
     larks if ever the heavens should fall.
_Works. Book i. Chap. xi._
     He laid him squat as a flounder.
_Works. Book i. Chap. xxvii._
     Send them home as merry as crickets.
_Works. Book i. Chap. xxix._
     Corn is the sinews of war.
_Works. Book i. Chap. xlvi._
     How shall I be able to rule over others, that have not full power
     and command of myself?
_Works. Book i. Chap. lii._
     Subject to a kind of disease, which at that time they called lack
     of money.
_Works. Book ii. Chap. xvi._
     He did not care a button for it.
_Works. Book ii. Chap. xvi._
     How well I feathered my nest.
_Works. Book ii. Chap. xvii._
     So much is a man worth as he esteems himself.
_Works. Book ii. Chap. xxix._
     A good crier of green sauce.
_Works. Book ii. Chap. xxxi._
     Then I began to think that it is very true which is commonly
     said, that the one half of the world knoweth not how the other
     half liveth.
_Works. Book ii. Chap. xxxii._
     This flea which I have in mine ear.
_Works. Book iii. Chap. xxxi._
     You have there hit the nail on the head.
_Works. Book iii. Chap. xxxiv._
     Above the pitch, out of tune, and off the hinges.
_Works. Book iv. Chap. xix._
     I 'll go his halves.
_Works. Book iv. Chap. xxiii._
    The Devil was sick,--the Devil a monk would be;
    The Devil was well,--the devil a monk was he.
_Works. Book iv. Chap. xxiv._
     Do not believe what I tell you here any more than if it were some
     tale of a tub.
_Works. Book iv. Chap. xxxviii._
     I would have you call to mind the strength of the ancient giants,
     that undertook to lay the high mountain Pelion on the top of
     Ossa, and set among those the shady Olympus.
_Works. Book iv. Chap. xxxviii._
     Which was performed to a T.
_Works. Book iv. Chap. xli._
     He that has patience may compass anything.
_Works. Book iv. Chap. xlviii._
     We will take the good will for the deed.
_Works. Book iv. Chap. xlix._
     You are Christians of the best edition, all picked and culled.
_Works. Book iv. Chap. l._
     Would you damn your precious soul?
_Works. Book iv. Chap. liv._
     Let us fly and save our bacon.
_Works. Book iv. Chap. lv._
     Needs must when the Devil drives.
_Works. Book iv. Chap. lvii._
     Scampering as if the Devil drove them.
_Works. Book iv. Chap. lxii._
     He freshly and cheerfully asked him how a man should kill time.
_Works. Book iv. Chap. lxii._
     The belly has no ears, nor is it to be filled with fair
     words.
_Works. Book iv. Chap. lxii._
     Whose cockloft is unfurnished.
_Works. The Author's Prologue to the Fifth Book._
     Speak the truth and shame the Devil.
_Works. The Author's Prologue to the Fifth Book._
     Plain as a nose in a man's face.
_Works. The Author's Prologue to the Fifth Book._
     Like hearts of oak.
_Works. Prologue to the Fifth Book._
     You shall never want rope enough.
_Works. Prologue to the Fifth Book._
     Looking as like . . . as one pea does like another.
_Works. Book v. Chapter ii._
     Nothing is so dear and precious as time.
_Works. Book v. Chapter v._
     And thereby hangs a tale.
_Works. Book v. Chapter iv._
     It is meat, drink,[773-5] and cloth to us.
_Works. Book v. Chapter vii._
     And so on to the end of the chapter.
_Works. Book v. Chapter x._
     What is got over the Devil's back is spent under the
     belly.
_Works. Book v. Chapter xi._
     We have here other fish to fry.
_Works. Book v. Chapter xii._
     What cannot be cured must be endured.
_Works. Book v. Chapter xv._
     Thought I to myself, we shall never come off scot-free.
_Works. Book v. Chapter xv._
     It is enough to fright you out of your seven senses.
_Works. Book v. Chapter xv._
     Necessity has no law.
_Works. Book v. Chapter xv._
     Panurge had no sooner heard this, but he was upon the high-rope.
_Works. Book v. Chapter xviii._
     We saw a knot of others, about a baker's dozen.
_Works. Book v. Chapter xxii._
     Others made a virtue of necessity.
_Works. Book v. Chapter xxii._
     Spare your breath to cool your porridge.
_Works. Book v. Chapter xxviii._
     I believe he would make three bites of a cherry.
_Works. Book v. Chapter xxviii._
MICHAEL DE MONTAIGNE. 1533-1592.
(_Works._[774-1] _Cotton's translation, revised by Hazlitt and Wight._)
     Man in sooth is a marvellous, vain, fickle, and unstable
     subject.
_Book i. Chap. i. That Men by various Ways arrive at the same End._
     All passions that suffer themselves to be relished and digested
     are but moderate.
_Book i. Chap. ii. Of Sorrow._
     It is not without good reason said, that he who has not a good
     memory should never take upon him the trade of lying.
_Book i. Chap. ix. Of Liars._
     He who should teach men to die would at the same time teach them
     to live.
_Book i. Chap. xviii. That Men are not to judge of our Happiness till
after Death._
     The laws of conscience, which we pretend to be derived from
     nature, proceed from custom.
_Book i. Chap. xxii. Of Custom._
     Accustom him to everything, that he may not be a Sir Paris, a
     carpet-knight,[774-6] but a sinewy, hardy, and vigorous young
     man.
_Book i. Chap. xxv. Of the Education of Children._
     We were halves throughout, and to that degree that methinks by
     outliving him I defraud him of his part.
_Book i. Chap. xxvii. Of Friendship._
     There are some defeats more triumphant than victories.
_Book i. Chap. xxx. Of Cannibals._
     Nothing is so firmly believed as what we least know.
_Book i. Chap. xxxi. Of Divine Ordinances._
     A wise man never loses anything, if he has himself.
_Book i. Chap. xxxviii. Of Solitude._
     Even opinion is of force enough to make itself to be espoused at
     the expense of life.
_Book i. Chap. xl. Of Good and Evil._
     Plato says, "'T is to no purpose for a sober man to knock at the
     door of the Muses;" and Aristotle says "that no excellent soul is
     exempt from a mixture of folly."
_Book ii. Chap. ii. Of Drunkenness._
     For a desperate disease a desperate cure.
_Book ii. Chap. iii. The Custom of the Isle of Cea._
     And not to serve for a table-talk.
_Book ii. Chap. iii. The Custom of the Isle of Cea._
     To which we may add this other Aristotelian consideration, that
     he who confers a benefit on any one loves him better than he is
     beloved by him again.
_Book ii. Chap. viii. Of the Affection of Fathers._
     The middle sort of historians (of which the most part are) spoil
     all; they will chew our meat for us.
_Book ii. Chap. x. Of Books._
     The only good histories are those that have been written by the
     persons themselves who commanded in the affairs whereof they
     write.
_Book ii. Chap. x. Of Books._
     She [virtue] requires a rough and stormy passage; she will have
     either outward difficulties to wrestle with,[775-5] . . . or
     internal difficulties.
_Book ii. Chap. xi. Of Cruelty._
     There is, nevertheless, a certain respect and a general duty of
     humanity that ties us, not only to beasts that have life and
     sense, but even to trees and plants.
_Book ii. Chap. xi. Of Cruelty._
     Some impose upon the world that they believe that which they do
     not; others, more in number, make themselves believe that they
     believe, not being able to penetrate into what it is to believe.
_Book ii. Chap. xii. Apology for Raimond Sebond._
     When I play with my cat, who knows whether I do not make her more
     sport than she makes me?
_Book ii. Chap. xii. Apology for Raimond Sebond._
     'T is one and the same Nature that rolls on her course, and
     whoever has sufficiently considered the present state of things
     might certainly conclude as to both the future and the
     past.
_Book ii. Chap. xii. Apology for Raimond Sebond._
     The souls of emperors and cobblers are cast in the same mould. .
     . . The same reason that makes us wrangle with a neighbour causes
     a war betwixt princes.
_Book ii. Chap. xii. Apology for Raimond Sebond._
     Man is certainly stark mad; he cannot make a worm, and yet he
     will be making gods by dozens.
_Book ii. Chap. xii. Apology for Raimond Sebond._
     Why may not a goose say thus: "All the parts of the universe I
     have an interest in: the earth serves me to walk upon, the sun to
     light me; the stars have their influence upon me; I have such an
     advantage by the winds and such by the waters; there is nothing
     that yon heavenly roof looks upon so favourably as me. I am the
     darling of Nature! Is it not man that keeps and serves
     me?"
_Book ii. Chap. xii. Apology for Raimond Sebond._
     Arts and sciences are not cast in a mould, but are formed and
     perfected by degrees, by often handling and polishing, as bears
     leisurely lick their cubs into form.
_Book ii. Chap. xii. Apology for Raimond Sebond._
     He that I am reading seems always to have the most force.
_Book ii. Chap. xii. Apology for Raimond Sebond._
     Apollo said that every one's true worship was that which he found
     in use in the place where he chanced to be.
_Book ii. Chap. xii. Apology for Raimond Sebond._
     How many worthy men have we seen survive their own
     reputation!
_Book ii. Chap. xvi. Of Glory._
     The mariner of old said to Neptune in a great tempest, "O God!
     thou mayest save me if thou wilt, and if thou wilt thou mayest
     destroy me; but whether or no, I will steer my rudder
     true."
_Book ii. Chap. xvi. Of Glory._
     One may be humble out of pride.
_Book ii. Chap. xvii. Of Presumption._
     I find that the best virtue I have has in it some tincture of
     vice.
_Book ii. Chap. xx. That we taste nothing pure._
     Saying is one thing, doing another.
_Book ii. Chap. xxxi. Of Anger._
     Is it not a noble farce, wherein kings, republics, and emperors
     have for so many ages played their parts, and to which the whole
     vast universe serves for a theatre?
_Book ii. Chap. xxxvi. Of the most Excellent Men._
     Nature forms us for ourselves, not for others; to be, not to
     seem.
_Book ii. Chap. xxxvii. Of the Resemblance of Children to their
Brothers._
     There never was in the world two opinions alike, no more than two
     hairs or two grains; the most universal quality is
     diversity.
_Book ii. Chap. xxxvii. Of the Resemblance of Children to their Fathers._
     The public weal requires that men should betray and lie and
     massacre.
_Book iii. Chap. i. Of Profit and Honesty._
     Like rowers, who advance backward.
_Book iii. Chap. i. Of Profit and Honesty._
     I speak truth, not so much as I would, but as much as I dare; and
     I dare a little the more as I grow older.
_Book iii. Chap ii. Of Repentance._
     Few men have been admired by their own domestics.
_Book iii. Chap. ii. Of Repentance._
     It happens as with cages: the birds without despair to get in,
     and those within despair of getting out.
_Book iii. Chap. v. Upon some Verses of Virgil._
     And to bring in a new word by the head and shoulders, they leave
     out the old one.
_Book iii. Chap. v. Upon some Verses of Virgil._
     All the world knows me in my book, and my book in me.
_Book iii. Chap. v. Upon some Verses of Virgil._
     'T is so much to be a king, that he only is so by being so. The
     strange lustre that surrounds him conceals and shrouds him from
     us; our sight is there broken and dissipated, being stopped and
     filled by the prevailing light.
_Book iii. Chap. vii. Of the Inconveniences of Greatness._
     We are born to inquire after truth; it belongs to a greater power
     to possess it. It is not, as Democritus said, hid in the bottom
     of the deeps, but rather elevated to an infinite height in the
     divine knowledge.
_Book iii. Chap. viii. Of the Art of Conversation._
     I moreover affirm that our wisdom itself, and wisest
     consultations, for the most part commit themselves to the conduct
     of chance.
_Book iii. Chap. viii. Of the Art of Conversation._
     What if he has borrowed the matter and spoiled the form, as it
     oft falls out?
_Book iii. Chap. viii. Of the Art of Conversation._
     The oldest and best known evil was ever more supportable than one
     that was new and untried.
_Book iii. Chap. ix. Of Vanity._
     Not because Socrates said so, . . . I look upon all men as my
     compatriots.
_Book iii. Chap. ix. Of Vanity._
     My appetite comes to me while eating.
_Book iii. Chap. ix. Of Vanity._
     There is no man so good, who, were he to submit all his thoughts
     and actions to the laws, would not deserve hanging ten times in
     his life.
_Book iii. Chap. ix. Of Vanity._
     Saturninus said, "Comrades, you have lost a good captain to make
     him an ill general."
_Book iii. Chap. ix. Of Vanity._
     A little folly is desirable in him that will not be guilty of
     stupidity.
_Book iii. Chap. ix. Of Vanity._
     Habit is a second nature.
_Book iii. Chap. x._
     We seek and offer ourselves to be gulled.
_Book iii. Chap. xi. Of Cripples._
     I have never seen a greater monster or miracle in the world than
     myself.
_Book iii. Chap. xi. Of Cripples._
     Men are most apt to believe what they least understand.
_Book iii. Chap. xi. Of Cripples._
     I have here only made a nosegay of culled flowers, and have
     brought nothing of my own but the thread that ties them together.
_Book iii. Chap. xii. Of Physiognomy._
     Amongst so many borrowed things, I am glad if I can steal one,
     disguising and altering it for some new service.
_Book iii. Chap. xii. Of Physiognomy._
     I am further of opinion that it would be better for us to have
     [no laws] at all than to have them in so prodigious numbers as we
     have.
_Book iii. Chap. xiii. Of Experience._
     There is more ado to interpret interpretations than to interpret
     the things, and more books upon books than upon all other
     subjects; we do nothing but comment upon one another.
_Book iii. Chap. xiii. Of Experience._
     For truth itself has not the privilege to be spoken at all times
     and in all sorts.
_Book iii. Chap. xiii. Of Experience._
     The diversity of physical arguments and opinions embraces all
     sorts of methods.
_Book iii. Chap. xiii. Of Experience._
     Let us a little permit Nature to take her own way; she better
     understands her own affairs than we.
_Book iii. Chap. xiii. Of Experience._
     I have ever loved to repose myself, whether sitting or lying,
     with my heels as high or higher than my head.
_Book iii. Chap. xiii. Of Experience._
     I, who have so much and so universally adored this ariston
     metron, "excellent mediocrity,"[780-1] of ancient times, and who
     have concluded the most moderate measure the most perfect, shall
     I pretend to an unreasonable and prodigious old age?
_Book iii. Chap. xiii. Of Experience._
DU BARTAS. 1544-1590.
(_From his "Divine Weekes and Workes," translated by J. Sylvester._)
    The world 's a stage[780-2] where God's omnipotence,
    His justice, knowledge, love, and providence
    Do act the parts.
_First Week, First Day._
    And reads, though running,[780-3] all these needful motions.
_First Week, First Day._
    Mercy and justice, marching cheek by joule.
_First Week, First Day._
    Not unlike the bear which bringeth forth
    In the end of thirty dayes a shapeless birth;
    But after licking, it in shape she drawes,
    And by degrees she fashions out the pawes,
    The head, and neck, and finally doth bring
    To a perfect beast that first deformed thing.
_First Week, First Day._
    What is well done is done soon enough.
_First Week, First Day._
    And swans seem whiter if swart crowes be by.
_First Week, First Day._
    Night's black mantle covers all alike.
_First Week, First Day._
    Hot and cold, and moist and dry.
_First Week, Second Day._
    Much like the French (or like ourselves, their apes),
    Who with strange habit do disguise their shapes;
    Who loving novels, full of affectation,
    Receive the manners of each other nation.
_First Week, Second Day._
    With tooth and nail.
_First Week, Second Day._
    From the foure corners of the worlde doe haste.
_First Week, Second Day._
    Oft seen in forehead of the frowning skies.
_First Week, Second Day._
    From north to south, from east to west.
_First Week, Second Day._
            Bright-flaming, heat-full fire,
    The source of motion.
_First Week, Second Day._
              Not that the earth doth yield
    In hill or dale, in forest or in field,
    A rarer plant.
_First Week, Third Day._
    'T is what you will,--or will be what you would.
_First Week, Third Day._
    Or savage beasts upon a thousand hils.
_First Week, Third Day._
    To man the earth seems altogether
    No more a mother, but a step-dame rather.
_First Week, Third Day._
    For where 's the state beneath the firmament
    That doth excel the bees for government?
_First Week, Fifth Day, Part i._
                        A good turn at need,
    At first or last, shall be assur'd of meed.
_First Week, Sixth Day._
    There is no theam more plentifull to scan
    Than is the glorious goodly frame of man.
_First Week, Sixth Day._
    These lovely lamps, these windows of the soul.
_First Week, Sixth Day._
    Or almost like a spider, who, confin'd
    In her web's centre, shakt with every winde,
    Moves in an instant if the buzzing flie
    Stir but a string of her lawn canapie.
_First Week, Sixth Day._
    Even as a surgeon, minding off to cut
    Some cureless limb,--before in ure he put
    His violent engins on the vicious member,
    Bringeth his patient in a senseless slumber,
    And grief-less then (guided by use and art),
    To save the whole, sawes off th' infested part.
_First Week, Sixth Day._
    Two souls in one, two hearts into one heart.
_First Week, Sixth Day._
                     Which serves for cynosure
    To all that sail upon the sea obscure.
_First Week, Seventh Day._
    Yielding more wholesome food than all the messes
    That now taste-curious wanton plenty dresses.
_Second Week, First Day, Part i._
               Turning our seed-wheat-kennel tares,
    To burn-grain thistle, and to vaporie darnel,
    Cockle, wild oats, rough burs, corn-cumbring
    Tares.
_Second Week, First Day, Part iii._
    In every hedge and ditch both day and night
    We fear our death, of every leafe affright.
_Second Week, First Day, Part iii._
                      Dog, ounce, bear, and bull,
    Wolfe, lion, horse.
_Second Week, First Day, Part iii._
                        Apoplexie and lethargie,
    As forlorn hope, assault the enemy.
_Second Week, First Day, Part iii._
    Living from hand to mouth.
_Second Week, First Day, Part iv._
    In the jaws of death.
_Second Week, First Day, Part iv._
    Did thrust as now in others' corn his sickle.
_Second Week, Second Day, Part ii._
    Will change the pebbles of our puddly thought
    To orient pearls.
_Second Week, Third Day, Part i._
    Soft carpet-knights, all scenting musk and amber.
_Second Week, Third Day, Part i._
    The will for deed I doe accept.
_Second Week, Third Day, Part ii._
                 Only that he may conform
    To tyrant custom.
_Second Week, Third Day, Part ii._
    Sweet grave aspect.
_Second Week, Fourth Day, Book i._
    Who breaks his faith, no faith is held with him.
_Second Week, Fourth Day, Book ii._
    Who well lives, long lives; for this age of ours
    Should not be numbered by years, daies, and hours.
_Second Week, Fourth Day, Book ii._
                      My lovely living boy,
    My hope, my hap, my love, my life, my joy.
_Second Week, Fourth Day, Book ii._
    Out of the book of Natur's learned brest.
_Second Week, Fourth Day, Book ii._
    Flesh of thy flesh, nor yet bone of thy bone.
_Second Week, Fourth Day, Book ii._
    Through thick and thin, both over hill and plain.
_Second Week, Fourth Day, Book iv._
    Weakened and wasted to skin and bone.
_Second Week, Fourth Day, Book iv._
    I take the world to be but as a stage,
    Where net-maskt men do play their personage.
_Dialogue, between Heraclitus and Democritus._
    Made no more bones.
_The Maiden Blush._
MIGUEL DE CERVANTES. 1547-1616.
Don Quixote. (_Lockhart's Translation._)
     I was so free with him as not to mince the matter.
_Don Quixote. The Author's Preface._
     They can expect nothing but their labour for their pains.
_Don Quixote. The Author's Preface._
     As ill-luck would have it.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book i. Chap. ii._
     The brave man carves out his fortune, and every man is the son of
     his own works.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book i. Chap. iv._
     Which I have earned with the sweat of my brows.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book i. Chap. iv._
     Can we ever have too much of a good thing?
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book i. Chap. vi._
     The charging of his enemy was but the work of a moment.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book i. Chap. viii._
     And had a face like a blessing.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book ii. Chap. iv._
     It is a true saying that a man must eat a peck of salt with his
     friend before he knows him.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. i._
     Fortune leaves always some door open to come at a remedy.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. i._
     Fair and softly goes far.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. ii._
     Plain as the nose on a man's face.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. iv._
     Let me leap out of the frying-pan into the fire;[785-6] or, out
     of God's blessing into the warm sun.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. iv._
     You are taking the wrong sow by the ear.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. iv._
     Bell, book, and candle.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. iv._
     Let the worst come to the worst.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. v._
     You are come off now with a whole skin.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. v._
     Fear is sharp-sighted, and can see things under ground, and much
     more in the skies.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. vi._
     Ill-luck, you know, seldom comes alone.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. vi._
     Why do you lead me a wild-goose chase?
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. vi._
     I find my familiarity with thee has bred contempt.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. vi._
     The more thou stir it, the worse it will be.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. vi._
     Now had Aurora displayed her mantle over the blushing skies, and
     dark night withdrawn her sable veil.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. vi._
     I tell thee, that is Mambrino's helmet.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. vii._
     Give me but that, and let the world rub; there I 'll stick.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. vii._
     Sure as a gun.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. vii._
     Sing away sorrow, cast away care.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. viii._
     Thank you for nothing.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. viii._
     After meat comes mustard; or, like money to a starving man at
     sea, when there are no victuals to be bought with it.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. viii._
     Of good natural parts and of a liberal education.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. viii._
     Would puzzle a convocation of casuists to resolve their degrees
     of consanguinity.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. viii._
     Let every man mind his own business.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. viii._
     Murder will out.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. viii._
     Thou art a cat, and a rat, and a coward.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. viii._
     It is the part of a wise man to keep himself to-day for
     to-morrow, and not to venture all his eggs in one basket.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. ix._
     I know what 's what, and have always taken care of the main
     chance.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. ix._
     The ease of my burdens, the staff of my life.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. ix._
     I am almost frighted out of my seven senses.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. ix._
     Within a stone's throw of it.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. ix._
     Let us make hay while the sun shines.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. xi._
     I never thrust my nose into other men's porridge. It is no bread
     and butter of mine; every man for himself, and God for us
     all.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. xi._
     Little said is soonest mended.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. xi._
     A close mouth catches no flies.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. xi._
     She may guess what I should perform in the wet, if I do so much
     in the dry.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. xi._
     You are a devil at everything, and there is no kind of thing in
     the 'versal world but what you can turn your hand to.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. xi._
     It will grieve me so to the heart, that I shall cry my eyes out.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iii. Chap. xi._
     Delay always breeds danger.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iv. Chap. ii._
     They must needs go whom the Devil drives.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iv. Chap. iv._
     A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iv. Chap. iv._
     More knave than fool.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iv. Chap. iv._
     I can tell where my own shoe pinches me; and you must not think,
     sir, to catch old birds with chaff.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iv. Chap. v._
     I never saw a more dreadful battle in my born days.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iv. Chap. viii._
     Here is the devil-and-all to pay.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iv. Chap. x._
     I begin to smell a rat.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iv. Chap. x._
     I will take my corporal oath on it.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iv. Chap. x._
     It is past all controversy that what costs dearest is, and ought
     to be, most valued.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iv. Chap. xi._
     I would have nobody to control me; I would be absolute: and who
     but I? Now, he that is absolute can do what he likes; he that can
     do what he likes can take his pleasure; he that can take his
     pleasure can be content; and he that can be content has no more
     to desire. So the matter's over; and come what will come, I am
     satisfied.
_Don Quixote. Part i. Book iv. Chap. xxiii._
     When the head aches, all the members partake of the pain.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. ii._
     He has done like Orbaneja, the painter of Ubeda, who, being asked
     what he painted, answered, "As it may hit;" and when he had
     scrawled out a misshapen cock, was forced to write underneath, in
     Gothic letters, "This is a cock."
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. iii._
     There are men that will make you books, and turn them loose into
     the world, with as much dispatch as they would do a dish of
     fritters.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. iii._
     "There is no book so bad," said the bachelor, "but something good
     may be found in it."
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. iii._
     Every man is as Heaven made him, and sometimes a great deal
     worse.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. iv._
     Spare your breath to cool your porridge.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. v._
     A little in one's own pocket is better than much in another man's
     purse.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. vii._
     Remember the old saying, "Faint heart never won fair
     lady."
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. x._
     There is a remedy for all things but death, which will be sure to
     lay us out flat some time or other.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. x._
     Are we to mark this day with a white or a black stone?
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. x._
     Let every man look before he leaps.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xiv._
     The pen is the tongue of the mind.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xvi._
     There were but two families in the world, Have-much and
     Have-little.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xx._
     He has an oar in every man's boat, and a finger in every pie.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxii._
     Patience, and shuffle the cards.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxiii._
     Comparisons are odious.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxiii._
     Tell me thy company, and I will tell thee what thou art.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxiii._
     The proof of the pudding is the eating.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxiv._
     He is as like one, as one egg is like another.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxvii._
     You can see farther into a millstone than he.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxviii._
     Sancho Panza by name, is my own self, if I was not changed in my
     cradle.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxx._
     "Sit there, clod-pate!" cried he; "for let me sit wherever I
     will, that will still be the upper end, and the place of worship
     to thee."
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxi._
     Building castles in the air,[790-2] and making yourself a
     laughing-stock.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxi._
     It is good to live and learn.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxii._
     He is as mad as a March hare.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxiii._
     I must follow him through thick and thin.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxiii._
     There is no love lost between us.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxiii._
     In the night all cats are gray.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxiii._
     All is not gold that glisters.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxiii._
     I can look sharp as well as another, and let me alone to keep the
     cobwebs out of my eyes.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxiii._
     Honesty is the best policy.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxiii._
     Time ripens all things. No man is born wise.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxiii._
     A good name is better than riches.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxiii._
     I drink when I have occasion, and sometimes when I have no
     occasion.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxiii._
     An honest man's word is as good as his bond.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxiii._
     Heaven's help is better than early rising.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxiv._
     I have other fish to fry.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxv._
     There is a time for some things, and a time for all things; a
     time for great things, and a time for small things.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxv._
     But all in good time.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxvi._
     Matters will go swimmingly.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxvi._
     Many go out for wool, and come home shorn themselves.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxvii._
     They had best not stir the rice, though it sticks to the pot.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxvii._
     Good wits jump;[791-2] a word to the wise is enough.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xxxvii._
     You may as well expect pears from an elm.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xl._
     Make it thy business to know thyself, which is the most difficult
     lesson in the world.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xlii._
     You cannot eat your cake and have your cake;[791-5] and store 's
     no sore.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xliii._
     Diligence is the mother of good fortune.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xliii._
     What a man has, so much he is sure of.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xliii._
     When a man says, "Get out of my house! what would you have with
     my wife?" there is no answer to be made.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xliii._
     The pot calls the kettle black.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. xliii._
     This peck of troubles.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. liii._
     When thou art at Rome, do as they do at Rome.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. liv._
     Many count their chickens before they are hatched; and where they
     expect bacon, meet with broken bones.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. lv._
     My thoughts ran a wool-gathering; and I did like the countryman
     who looked for his ass while he was mounted on his back.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. lvii._
     Liberty . . . is one of the most valuable blessings that Heaven
     has bestowed upon mankind.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. lviii._
     As they use to say, spick and span new.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. lviii._
     I think it a very happy accident.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. lviii._
     I shall be as secret as the grave.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. lxii._
     Now, blessings light on him that first invented this same sleep!
     It covers a man all over, thoughts and all, like a cloak; it is
     meat for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, heat for the cold,
     and cold for the hot. It is the current coin that purchases all
     the pleasures of the world cheap, and the balance that sets the
     king and the shepherd, the fool and the wise man, even.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. lxviii._
     Rome was not built in a day.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. lxxi._
     The ass will carry his load, but not a double load; ride not a
     free horse to death.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. lxxi._
     Never look for birds of this year in the nests of the
     last.
_Don Quixote. Part ii. Chap. lxxiv._
     Don't put too fine a point to your wit for fear it should get
     blunted.
_The Little Gypsy_ (_La Gitanilla_).
     My heart is wax moulded as she pleases, but enduring as marble to
     retain.
_The Little Gypsy_ (_La Gitanilla_).
BARTHOLOMEW SCHIDONI. 1560-1616.
     I, too, was born in Arcadia.
JOHN SIRMOND. 1589(?)-1649.
    If on my theme I rightly think,
    There are five reasons why men drink,
    Good wine, a friend, because I 'm dry,
    Or lest I should be by and by,
    Or any other reason why.
_Causæ Bibendi._
FRIEDRICH VON LOGAU. 1604-1655.
    Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small;
    Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds He all.
_Retribution._ (_Sinngedichte._)
    Man-like is it to fall into sin,
    Fiend-like is it to dwell therein;
    Christ-like is it for sin to grieve,
    God-like is it all sin to leave.
_Sin._ (_Sinngedichte._)
ISAAC DE BENSERADE. 1612-1691.
    In bed we laugh, in bed we cry;
    And, born in bed, in bed we die.
    The near approach a bed may show
    Of human bliss to human woe.
FRANCIS, DUC DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULD. 1613-1680.
(_Reflections, or Sentences and Moral Maxims._)
     Our virtues are most frequently but vices disguised.
     We have all sufficient strength to endure the misfortunes of
     others.
_Maxim 19._
     Philosophy triumphs easily over past evils and future evils; but
     present evils triumph over it.
_Maxim 22._
     We need greater virtues to sustain good than evil fortune.
_Maxim 25._
     Neither the sun nor death can be looked at with a steady eye.
_Maxim 26._
     Interest speaks all sorts of tongues, and plays all sorts of
     parts, even that of disinterestedness.
_Maxim 39._
     We are never so happy or so unhappy as we suppose.
_Maxim 49._
     There are few people who would not be ashamed of being loved when
     they love no longer.
_Maxim 71._
     True love is like ghosts, which everybody talks about and few
     have seen.
_Maxim 76._
     The love of justice is simply, in the majority of men, the fear
     of suffering injustice.
_Maxim 78._
     Silence is the best resolve for him who distrusts himself.
_Maxim 79._
     Friendship is only a reciprocal conciliation of interests, and an
     exchange of good offices; it is a species of commerce out of
     which self-love always expects to gain something.
_Maxim 83._
     A man who is ungrateful is often less to blame than his
     benefactor.
_Maxim 96._
     The understanding is always the dupe of the heart.
_Maxim 102._
     Nothing is given so profusely as advice.
_Maxim 110._
     The true way to be deceived is to think oneself more knowing than
     others.
_Maxim 127._
     Usually we praise only to be praised.
_Maxim 146._
     Our repentance is not so much regret for the ill we have done as
     fear of the ill that may happen to us in consequence.
_Maxim 180._
     Most people judge men only by success or by fortune.
_Maxim 212._
     Hypocrisy is the homage vice pays to virtue.
_Maxim 218._
     Too great haste to repay an obligation is a kind of ingratitude.
_Maxim 226._
     There is great ability in knowing how to conceal one's ability.
_Maxim 245._
     The pleasure of love is in loving. We are happier in the passion
     we feel than in that we inspire.
_Maxim 259._
     We always like those who admire us; we do not always like those
     whom we admire.
_Maxim 294._
     The gratitude of most men is but a secret desire of receiving
     greater benefits.
_Maxim 298._
     Lovers are never tired of each other, though they always speak of
     themselves.
_Maxim 312._
     We pardon in the degree that we love.
_Maxim 330._
     We hardly find any persons of good sense save those who agree
     with us.
_Maxim 347._
     The greatest fault of a penetrating wit is to go beyond the mark.
_Maxim 377._
     We may give advice, but we cannot inspire the conduct.
_Maxim 378._
     The veracity which increases with old age is not far from folly.
_Maxim 416._
     In their first passion women love their lovers, in all the others
     they love love.
_Maxim 471._
     Quarrels would not last long if the fault was only on one side.
_Maxim 496._
     In the adversity of our best friends we often find something that
     is not exactly displeasing.
J. DE LA FONTAINE. 1621-1695.
     The opinion of the strongest is always the best.
_The Wolf and the Lamb. Book i. Fable 10._
     By the work one knows the workman.
_The Hornets and the Bees. Fable 21._
     It is a double pleasure to deceive the deceiver.
_The Cock and the Fox. Book ii. Fable 15._
     It is impossible to please all the world and one's father.
_Book iii. Fable 1._
     In everything one must consider the end.
_The Fox and the Gnat. Fable 5._
     "They are too green," he said, "and only good for fools."
_The Fox and the Grapes. Fable 11._
     Help thyself, and God will help thee.
_Book vi. Fable 18._
     The fly of the coach.
_Book vii. Fable 9._
     The sign brings customers.
_The Fortune-Tellers. Fable 15._
     Let ignorance talk as it will, learning has its value.
_The Use of Knowledge. Book viii. Fable 19._
     No path of flowers leads to glory.
_Book x. Fable 14._
JEAN BAPTISTE MOLIÈRE. 1622-1673.
     The world, dear Agnes, is a strange affair.
_L'École des Femmes. Act ii. Sc. 6._
     There are fagots and fagots.
_Le Médecin malgré lui. Act i. Sc. 6._
     We have changed all that.
_Le Médecin malgré lui. Act ii. Sc. 6._
     Although I am a pious man, I am not the less a man.
_Le Tartuffe. Act iii. Sc. 3._
     The real Amphitryon is the Amphitryon who gives dinners.
_Amphitryon. Act iii. Sc. 5._
     Ah that I-- You would have it so, you would have it so; George
     Dandin, you would have it so! This suits you very nicely, and you
     are served right; you have precisely what you deserve.
_George Dandin. Act i. Sc. 19._
     Tell me to whom you are addressing yourself when you say that.
     I am addressing myself--I am addressing myself to my cap.
_L'Avare. Act i. Sc. 3._
     The beautiful eyes of my cash-box.
_L'Avare. Act v. Sc. 3._
     You are speaking before a man to whom all Naples is known.
_L'Avare. Act v. Sc. 5._
     My fair one, let us swear an eternal friendship.
_Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme. Act iv. Sc. 1._
     I will maintain it before the whole world.
_Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme. Act iv. Sc. 5._
     What the devil did he want in that galley?
_Les Fourberies de Scapin. Act ii. Sc. 11._
     Grammar, which knows how to control even kings.
_Les Femmes savantes. Act ii. Sc. 6._
     Ah, there are no longer any children!
_Le Malade Imaginaire. Act ii. Sc. 11._
BLAISE PASCAL. 1623-1662.
(_Translated by O. W. Wight._)
     Man is but a reed, the weakest in nature, but he is a thinking
     reed.
_Thoughts. Chap. ii. 10._
     It is not permitted to the most equitable of men to be a judge in
     his own cause.
_Thoughts. Chap. iv. 1._
     Montaigne[799-1] is wrong in declaring that custom ought to be
     followed simply because it is custom, and not because it is
     reasonable or just.
_Thoughts. Chap. iv. 6._
     Thus we never live, but we hope to live; and always disposing
     ourselves to be happy, it is inevitable that we never become
     so.
_Thoughts. Chap. v. 2._
     If the nose of Cleopatra had been shorter, the whole face of the
     earth would have been changed.
_Thoughts. Chap. viii. 29._
     The last thing that we find in making a book is to know what we
     must put first.
_Thoughts. Chap. ix. 30._
     Rivers are highways that move on, and bear us whither we wish to
     go.
_Thoughts. Chap. ix. 38._
     What a chimera, then, is man! what a novelty, what a monster,
     what a chaos, what a subject of contradiction, what a prodigy! A
     judge of all things, feeble worm of the earth, depositary of the
     truth, cloaca of uncertainty and error, the glory and the shame
     of the universe!
_Thoughts. Chap. x. 1._
     We know the truth, not only by the reason, but also by the heart.
_Thoughts. Chap. x. 1._
     For as old age is that period of life most remote from infancy,
     who does not see that old age in this universal man ought not to
     be sought in the times nearest his birth, but in those most
     remote from it?
_Preface to the Treatise on Vacuum._
NICHOLAS BOILEAU-DESPREAUX. 1636-1711.
    Happy who in his verse can gently steer
    From grave to light, from pleasant to severe.
_The Art of Poetry. Canto i. Line 75._
     Every age has its pleasures, its style of wit, and its own ways.
_The Art of Poetry. Canto iii. Line 374._
     He [Molière] pleases all the world, but cannot please himself.
_Satire 2._
    "There, take," says Justice, "take ye each a shell;
    We thrive at Westminster on fools like you.
    'T was a fat oyster! live in peace,--adieu."
_Epître ii._
ALAIN RENÉ LE SAGE. 1668-1747.
     It may be said that his wit shines at the expense of his
     memory.
_Gil Blas. Book iii. Chap. xi._
     I wish you all sorts of prosperity with a little more taste.
_Gil Blas. Book vii. Chap. iv._
     Isocrates was in the right to insinuate, in his elegant Greek
     expression, that what is got over the Devil's back is spent under
     his belly.
_Gil Blas. Book viii. Chap. ix._
    Facts are stubborn things.
_Gil Blas. Book x. Chap. i._
    Plain as a pike-staff.
_Gil Blas. Book xii. Chap. viii._
FRANCIS M. VOLTAIRE. 1694-1778.
     If there were no God, it would be necessary to invent him.
_Epître à l'Auteur du Livre des Trois Imposteurs. cxi._
     The king [Frederic] has sent me some of his dirty linen to wash;
     I will wash yours another time.
_Reply to General Manstein._
     Men use thought only as authority for their injustice, and employ
     speech only to conceal their thoughts.
_Dialogue xiv. Le Chapon et la Poularde_ (1763).
     History is little else than a picture of human crimes and
     misfortunes.
_L'Ingénu. Chap. x._ (1767.)
    The first who was king was a fortunate soldier:
    Who serves his country well has no need of ancestors.
_Merope. Act i. Sc. 3._
     In the best of possible worlds the château of monseigneur the
     baron was the most beautiful of châteaux, and madame the best of
     possible baronesses.
_Candide. Chap. i._
     In this country [England] it is well to kill from time to time an
     admiral to encourage the others.
_Candide. Chap. xxiii._
    The superfluous, a very necessary thing.
_Le Mondain. Line 21._
    Crush the infamous thing.
_Letter to d'Alembert, June 23, 1760._
     There are truths which are not for all men, nor for all times.
_Letter to Cardinal de Bernis, April 23, 1761._
    The proper mean.
_Letter to Count d'Argental, Nov. 28, 1765._
     It is said that God is always on the side of the heaviest
     battalions.
_Letter to M. le Riche, Feb. 6, 1770._
    Love truth, but pardon error.
_Discours sur l'Homme. Discours 3._
MADAME DU DEFFAND. 1697-1784.
     He [Voltaire] has invented history.
     It is only the first step which costs.
_In reply to the Cardinal de Polignac._
JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU. 1712-1778.
    Days of absence, sad and dreary,
      Clothed in sorrow's dark array,
    Days of absence, I am weary:
      She I love is far away.
_Days of Absence._
GESTA ROMANORUM.
     We read of a certain Roman emperor who built a magnificent
     palace. In digging the foundation, the workmen discovered a
     golden sarcophagus ornamented with three circlets, on which were
     inscribed, "I have expended; I have given; I have kept; I have
     possessed; I do possess; I have lost; I am punished. What I
     formerly expended, I have; what I gave away, I have."
_Tale xvi._
     See how the world rewards its votaries.
_Tale xxxvi._
     If the end be well, all is well.
_Tale lxvii._
     Whatever you do, do wisely, and think of the consequences.
_Tale ciii._
VAUVENARGUES (MARQUIS OF). 1715-1747.
     Great thoughts come from the heart.
_Maxim cxxvii._
MICHEL JEAN SEDAINE. 1717-1797.
    O Richard! O my king!
    The universe forsakes thee!
_Sung at the Dinner given to the French Soldiers in the Opera Salon at
Versailles, Oct. 1, 1789._
PRINCE DE LIGNE. 1735-1814.
     The congress of Vienna does not walk, but it dances.
GOETHE. 1749-1832.
    Who never ate his bread in sorrow,
      Who never spent the darksome hours
    Weeping, and watching for the morrow,
      He knows ye not, ye gloomy Powers.
_Wilhelm Meister. Book ii. Chap. xiii._
    Know'st thou the land where the lemon-trees bloom,
    Where the gold orange glows in the deep thicket's gloom,
    Where a wind ever soft from the blue heaven blows,
    And the groves of laurel and myrtle and rose?
_Wilhelm Meister. Book iii. Chap. i._
     Art is long, life short;[803-4] judgment difficult, opportunity
     transient.
_Wilhelm Meister. Book vii. Chap. ix._
     The sagacious reader who is capable of reading between these
     lines what does not stand written in them, but is nevertheless
     implied, will be able to form some conception.
_Autobiography. Book xviii. Truth and Beauty._
MADAME ROLAND. 1754-1793.
     O Liberty! Liberty! how many crimes are committed in thy
     name!
BERTRAND BARÈRE. 1755-1841.
     The tree of liberty only grows when watered by the blood of
     tyrants.
_Speech in the Convention Nationale, 1792._
     It is only the dead who do not return.
_Speech, 1794._
SCHILLER. 1759-1805.
    Against stupidity the very gods
    Themselves contend in vain.
_The Maid of Orleans. Act iii. Sc. 6._
    The richest monarch in the Christian world;
    The sun in my own dominions never sets.
_Don Carlos. Act i. Sc. 6._
JOSEPH ROUGET DE L'ISLE. 1760- ----.
    Ye sons of France, awake to glory!
      Hark! hark! what myriads bid you rise!
    Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary,
      Behold their tears and hear their cries!
_The Marseilles Hymn._
    To arms! to arms! ye brave!
      The avenging sword unsheathe!
    March on! march on! all hearts resolved
      On victory or death!
_The Marseilles Hymn._
A. F. F. VON KOTZEBUE. 1761-1819.
     There is another and a better world.
_The Stranger. Act i. Sc. 1._
J. G. VON SALIS. 1762-1834.
      Into the silent land!
    Ah, who shall lead us thither?
_The Silent Land._
    Who in life's battle firm doth stand
    Shall bear hope's tender blossoms
      Into the silent land!
_The Silent Land._
JOSEPH FOUCHÉ. 1763-1820.
     "It is more than a crime; it is a political fault,"[805-2]--words
     which I record, because they have been repeated and attributed to
     others.
_Memoirs of Fouché._
     Death is an eternal sleep.
_Inscription placed by his orders on the Gates of the Cemeteries in
1794._
J. M. USTERI. 1763-1827.
    Life let us cherish, while yet the taper glows,
    And the fresh flow'ret pluck ere it close;
    Why are we fond of toil and care?
    Why choose the rankling thorn to wear?
_Life let us cherish._
H. B. CONSTANT. 1767-1830.
     I am not the rose, but I have lived near the rose.
JUNOT, DUC D'ABRANTES. 1771-1813.
     I know nothing about it; I am my own ancestor.
(When asked as to his ancestry.)
JOHANN L. UHLAND. 1787-1862.
    Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee,
    Take, I give it willingly;
    For, invisible to thee,
    Spirits twain have crossed with me.
_The Passage. Edinburgh Review, October, 1832._
VON MÜNCH BELLINGHAUSEN. 1806-1871.
    Two souls with but a single thought,
    Two hearts that beat as one.
_Ingomar the Barbarian._[806-4] _Act ii._
MISCELLANEOUS TRANSLATIONS.
     Absolutism tempered by assassination.
     A Cadmean victory.
     After us the deluge.
     All is lost save honour.
     Appeal from Philip drunk to Philip sober.
     Architecture is frozen music.
     Beginning of the end.
     Boldness, again boldness, and ever boldness.
     Dead on the field of honour.
     Defend me from my friends; I can defend myself from my
     enemies.
     Extremes meet.
     Hell is full of good intentions.
     History repeats itself.
     I am here: I shall remain here.
     I am the state.
     It is magnificent, but it is not war.
     Leave no stone unturned.
     Let it be. Let it pass.
     Medicine for the soul.
     Nothing is changed in France; there is only one Frenchman
     more.
     Order reigns in Warsaw.
     Ossa on Pelion.
     Scylla and Charybdis.
     Sinews of war.
     Talk of nothing but business, and despatch that business
     quickly.
     The empire is peace.
     The guard dies, but never surrenders.
     The king reigns, but does not govern.
     The style is the man himself.
     "There is no other royal path which leads to geometry," said
     Euclid to Ptolemy I.
     There is nothing new except what is forgotten.
     They have learned nothing and forgotten nothing.
     We are dancing on a volcano.
    Who does not love wine, women, and song
    Remains a fool his whole life long.
     God is on the side of the strongest battalions.
    Terrible he rode alone,
      With his Yemen sword for aid;
    Ornament it carried none
      But the notches on the blade.
_The Death Feud. An Arab War-song._
THE BIBLE.
OLD TESTAMENT.
     And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.
_Genesis i. 3._
     It is not good that the man should be alone.
_Genesis ii. 18._
     Bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh.
_Genesis ii. 23._
     They sewed fig-leaves together and made themselves aprons.
_Genesis iii. 7._
     In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread.
_Genesis iii. 19._
     For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.
_Genesis iii. 19._
     The mother of all living.
_Genesis iii. 20._
     Am I my brother's keeper?
_Genesis iv. 9._
     My punishment is greater than I can bear.
_Genesis iv. 13._
     There were giants in the earth in those days.
_Genesis vi. 4._
     And the rain was upon the earth forty days and forty nights.
_Genesis vii. 12._
     The dove found no rest for the sole of her foot.
_Genesis viii. 9._
     Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.
_Genesis ix. 6._
     Let there be no strife, I pray thee, between thee and me.
_Genesis xiii. 8._
     In a good old age.
_Genesis xv. 15._
     His hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against
     him.
_Genesis xvi. 12._
     Old and well stricken in age.
_Genesis xviii. 11._
     His wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of
     salt.
_Genesis xix. 26._
     The voice is Jacob's voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau.
_Genesis xxvii. 22._
     They stript Joseph out of his coat, his coat of many colours.
_Genesis xxxvii. 23._
     Bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.
_Genesis xlii. 38._
     Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel.
_Genesis xlix. 4._
     I have been a stranger in a strange land.
_Exodus ii. 22._
     A land flowing with milk and honey.
_Exodus iii. 8; Jeremiah xxxii. 22._
     Darkness which may be felt.
_Exodus x. 21._
     The Lord went before them by day in a pillar of a cloud, to lead
     them the way; and by night in a pillar of fire.
_Exodus xiii. 21._
     When we sat by the fleshpots.
_Exodus xvi. 3._
     Love thy neighbour as thyself.
_Leviticus xix. 18._
     The Lord opened the mouth of the ass, and she said unto Balaam,
     What have I done unto thee, that thou hast smitten me these three
     times?
_Numbers xxii. 28._
     Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be
     like his!
_Numbers xxiii. 10._
     How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy tabernacles, O Israel!
_Numbers xxiv. 5._
     Man doth not live by bread only.
_Deuteronomy viii. 3._
     The wife of thy bosom.
_Deuteronomy xiii. 6._
     Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.
_Deuteronomy xix. 21._
     Blessed shall be thy basket and thy store.
_Deuteronomy xxviii. 5._
     The secret things belong unto the Lord.
_Deuteronomy xxix. 29._
     He kept him as the apple of his eye.
_Deuteronomy xxxii. 10._
     Jeshurun waxed fat, and kicked.
_Deuteronomy xxxii. 15._
     As thy days, so shall thy strength be.
_Deuteronomy xxxiii. 25._
     His eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated.
_Deuteronomy xxxiv. 7._
     I am going the way of all the earth.
_Joshua xxiii. 14._
     I arose a mother in Israel.
_Judges v. 7._
     The stars in their courses fought against Sisera.
_Judges v. 20._
     She brought forth butter in a lordly dish.
_Judges v. 25._
     At her feet he bowed, he fell, he lay down: at her feet he bowed,
     he fell: where he bowed, there he fell down dead.
_Judges v. 27._
     Is not the gleaning of the grapes of Ephraim better than the
     vintage of Abi-ezer?
_Judges viii. 2._
     He smote them hip and thigh.
_Judges xv. 8._
     The Philistines be upon thee, Samson.
_Judges xvi. 9._
     From Dan even to Beer-sheba.
_Judges xx. 1._
     The people arose as one man.
_Judges xx. 8._
     Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will
     lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.
_Ruth i. 16._
     Quit yourselves like men.
_1 Samuel iv. 9._
     Is Saul also among the prophets?
_1 Samuel x. 11._
     A man after his own heart.
_1 Samuel xiii. 14._
     David therefore departed thence and escaped to the cave Adullam.
_1 Samuel xxii. 1._
     Tell it not in Gath; publish it not in the streets of Askelon.
_2 Samuel i. 20._
     Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in
     their death they were not divided.
_2 Samuel i. 23._
     How are the mighty fallen!
_2 Samuel i. 25._
     Thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women.
_2 Samuel i. 26._
     Abner . . . smote him under the fifth rib.
_2 Samuel ii. 23._
     Tarry at Jericho until your beards be grown.
_2 Samuel x. 5._
     Thou art the man.
_2 Samuel xii. 7._
     As water spilt on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again.
_2 Samuel xiv. 14._
     They were wont to speak in old time, saying, They shall surely
     ask counsel at Abel: and so they ended the matter.
_2 Samuel xx. 18._
     The sweet psalmist of Israel.
_2 Samuel xxiii. 1._
     So that there was neither hammer nor axe nor any tool of iron
     heard in the house, while it was in building.
_1 Kings vi. 7._
     A proverb and a byword.
_1 Kings ix. 7._
     I have commanded a widow woman there to sustain thee.
_1 Kings xvii. 9._
     An handful of meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse.
_1 Kings xvii. 12._
     And the barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil
     fail.
_1 Kings xvii. 16._
     How long halt ye between two opinions?
_1 Kings xviii. 21._
     There ariseth a little cloud out of the sea, like a man's hand.
_1 Kings xviii. 44._
     A still, small voice.
_1 Kings xix. 12._
     Let not him that girdeth on his harness boast himself as he that
     putteth it off.
_1 Kings xx. 11._
     Death in the pot.
_2 Kings iv. 40._
     Is thy servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?
_2 Kings viii. 13._
     Like the driving of Jehu, the son of Nimshi: for he driveth
     furiously.
_2 Kings ix. 20._
     One that feared God and eschewed evil.
_Job i. 1._
     Satan came also.
_Job i. 6._
     The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name
     of the Lord.
_Job i. 21._
     All that a man hath will he give for his life.
_Job ii. 4._
     There the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary be at
     rest.
_Job iii. 17._
     Night, when deep sleep falleth on men.
_Job iv. 13; xxxiii. 15._
     Man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward.
_Job v. 7._
     He taketh the wise in their own craftiness.
_Job v. 13._
     Thou shalt come to thy grave in a full age, like as a shock of
     corn cometh in in his season.
_Job v. 26._
     How forcible are right words!
_Job vi. 25._
     My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle.
_Job vii. 6._
     He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place
     know him any more.
_Job vii. 10_; cf. _xvi. 22._
     I would not live alway.
_Job vii. 16._
     The land of darkness and the shadow of death.
_Job x. 21._
     Clearer than the noonday.
_Job xi. 17._
     Wisdom shall die with you.
_Job xii. 2._
     Speak to the earth, and it shall teach thee.
_Job xii. 8._
     Man that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble.
_Job xvi. 1._
     Miserable comforters are ye all.
_Job xvi. 2._
     The king of terrors.
_Job xviii. 14._
     I am escaped with the skin of my teeth.
_Job xix. 20._
     Oh that my words were now written! oh that they were printed in a
     book!
_Job xix. 23._
     Seeing the root of the matter is found in me.
_Job xix. 28._
     Though wickedness be sweet in his mouth, though he hide it under
     his tongue.
_Job xx. 12._
     The land of the living.
_Job xxviii. 13._
     The price of wisdom is above rubies.
_Job xxviii. 18._
     When the ear heard me, then it blessed me; and when the eye saw
     me, it gave witness to me.
_Job xxix. 11._
     I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy.
_Job xxix. 13._
     I was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame.
_Job xxix. 15._
     The house appointed for all living.
_Job xxx. 23._
     My desire is . . . that mine adversary had written a book.
_Job xxxi. 35._
     Great men are not always wise.
_Job xxxii. 9._
     He multiplieth words without knowledge.
_Job xxxv. 16._
     Fair weather cometh out of the north.
_Job xxxvii. 22._
     Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?
_Job xxxviii. 2._
     The morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted
     for joy.
_Job xxxviii. 7._
     Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further; and here shall thy
     proud waves be stayed.
_Job xxxviii. 11._
     Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the
     bands of Orion?
_Job xxxviii. 31._
     Canst thou guide Arcturus with his sons?
_Job xxxviii. 32._
     He smelleth the battle afar off.
_Job xxxix. 25._
     Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook?
_Job xli. 1._
     Hard as a piece of the nether millstone.
_Job xli. 24._
     He maketh the deep to boil like a pot.
_Job xli. 31._
     I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear; but now mine eye
     seeth thee.
_Job xlii. 5._
     His leaf also shall not wither.
_Psalm i. 3._
     Lift thou up the light of thy countenance upon us.
_Psalm iv. 6._
     Out of the mouth of babes[818-1] and sucklings.
_Psalm viii. 2._
     Thou hast made him a little lower than the angels.
_Psalm viii. 5._
     The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God.
_Psalm xiv. 1; liii. 1._
     He that sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not.
_Psalm xv. 4._
     The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places;[818-3] yea, I
     have a goodly heritage.
_Psalm xvi. 6._
     Keep me as the apple of the eye,[818-4] hide me under the shadow
     of thy wings.
_Psalm xvii. 8._
     The sorrows of death compassed me.
_Psalm xviii. 4._
     He rode upon a cherub, and did fly: yea, he did fly upon the
     wings of the wind.
_Psalm xviii. 10._
     The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth
     his handiwork.
_Psalm xix. 1._
     Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth
     knowledge.
_Psalm xix. 2._
     And there is nothing hid from the heat thereof.
_Psalm xix. 6._
     Sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb.
_Psalm xix. 10._
     I may tell all my bones.
_Psalm xxii. 17._
     He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside
     the still waters.
_Psalm xxiii. 2._
     Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
_Psalm xxiii. 4._
     My cup runneth over.
_Psalm xxiii. 5._
     From the strife of tongues.
_Psalm xxxi. 20._
     He fashioneth their hearts alike.
_Psalm xxxiii. 15._
     Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile.
_Psalm xxxiv. 13._
     I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen[819-6] the
     righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.
_Psalm xxxvii. 25._
     Spreading[819-7] himself like a green bay-tree.
_Psalm xxxvii. 35._
     Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright.
_Psalm xxxvii. 37._
     While I was musing the fire burned.
_Psalm xxxix. 3._
     Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what
     it is; that I may know how frail I am.
_Psalm xxxix. 4._
     Every man at his best state is altogether vanity.
_Psalm xxxix. 5._
     He heapeth up riches, and knoweth not[820-3] who shall gather
     them.
_Psalm xxxix. 6._
     Blessed is he that considereth the poor.
_Psalm xli. 1._
     As the hart panteth after the water-brooks.
_Psalm xlii. 1._
     Deep calleth unto deep.
_Psalm xlii. 7._
     My tongue is the pen of a ready writer.
_Psalm xlv. 1._
     God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in
     trouble.
_Psalm xlvi. 1._
     Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, is Mount
     Zion,[820-7] . . . the city of the great King.
_Psalm xlviii. 2._
     Man being in honour abideth not; he is like the beasts that
     perish.
_Psalm xlix. 12, 20._
     The cattle upon a thousand hills.
_Psalm l. 10._
     Oh that I had wings like a dove!
_Psalm lv. 6._
     We took sweet counsel together.
_Psalm lv. 14._
     But it was thou, a man mine equal, my guide, and mine
     acquaintance.
_Psalm lv. 15._
     The words of his mouth were smoother than butter, but war was in
     his heart.
_Psalm lv. 21._
     My heart is fixed.
_Psalm lvii. 7._
     They are like the deaf adder that stoppeth her ear; which will
     not hearken to the voice of charmers, charming never so
     wisely.
_Psalm lviii. 4, 5._
     Vain is the help of man.
_Psalm lx. 11; cviii. 12._
     Surely men of low degree are vanity, and men of high degree are a
     lie: to be laid in the balance they are altogether lighter than
     vanity.
_Psalm lxii. 9._
     He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass.
_Psalm lxxii. 6._
     His enemies shall lick the dust.
_Psalm lxxii. 9._
     As a dream when one awaketh.
_Psalm lxxiii. 20._
     Promotion cometh neither from the east, nor from the west, nor
     from[821-5] the south.
_Psalm lxxv. 6._
     He putteth down one and setteth up another.
_Psalm lxxv. 7._
     They go from strength to strength.
_Psalm lxxxiv. 7._
     A day[821-6] in thy courts is better than a thousand. I had
     rather be a door-keeper in the house of my God than to dwell in
     the tents of wickedness.
_Psalm lxxxiv. 10._
     Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have
     kissed each other.
_Psalm lxxxv. 10._
     A thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is
     past,[822-1] and as a watch in the night.
_Psalm xc. 4._
     We spend our years as a tale that is told.
_Psalm xc. 9._
     The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by
     reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength
     labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly
     away.
_Psalm xc. 10._
     So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto
     wisdom.
_Psalm xc. 12._
     Establish thou the work of our hands upon us: yea, the work of
     our hands establish thou it.
_Psalm xc. 17._
     I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God;
     in him will I trust.
_Psalm xci. 2._
     Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for . . .
     the destruction that wasteth at noonday.
_Psalm xci. 6._
     The righteous shall flourish like the palm-tree: he shall grow
     like a cedar in Lebanon.
_Psalm xcii. 12._
     The noise of many waters.
_Psalm xciii. 4._
     The Lord reigneth; let the earth rejoice.
_Psalm xcvii. 1._
     As for man his days are as grass; as a flower of the field so he
     flourisheth.
_Psalm ciii. 15._
     The wind passeth over it, and it is gone;[823-2] and the place
     thereof shall know it no more.
_Psalm ciii. 16._
     Wine that maketh glad the heart of man.
_Psalm civ. 15._
     Man goeth forth unto his work[823-3] and to his labour until the
     evening.
_Psalm civ. 23._
     They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great
     waters.
_Psalm cvii. 23._
     At their wits' end.
_Psalm cvii. 27._
     Thy people shall be willing in the day of thy power, in the
     beauties of holiness from the womb of the morning: thou hast the
     dew of thy youth.
_Psalm cx. 3._
     I said in my haste, All men are liars.
_Psalm cxvi. 11._
     Precious[823-6] in the sight of the Lord is the death of his
     saints.
_Psalm cxvi. 15._
     The stone which the builders refused is become the head stone of
     the corner.
_Psalm cxviii. 22._
     I have more understanding than all my teachers: for thy
     testimonies are my meditations.
_Psalm cxix. 99._
     A lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.
_Psalm cxix. 105._
     The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by
     night.
_Psalm cxxi. 6._
     Peace be within thy walls, and prosperity[824-2] within thy
     palaces.
_Psalm cxxii. 7._
     He giveth his beloved sleep.
_Psalm cxxvii. 2._
     Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them.
_Psalm cxxvii. 5._
     Thy children like olive plants[824-3] round about thy table.
_Psalm cxxviii. 3._
     I will not give sleep to mine eyes, or slumber to mine
     eyelids.
_Psalm cxxxii. 4; Proverbs vi. 4._
     Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren[824-5] to
     dwell together in unity.
_Psalm cxxxiii. 1._
     We hanged our harps upon the willows.
_Psalm cxxxvii. 2._
     If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her
     cunning.
_Psalm cxxxvii. 5._
     If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell[824-7] in the
     uttermost parts of the sea.
_Psalm cxxxix. 9._
     I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
_Psalm cxxxix. 14._
     Put not your trust in princes.
_Psalm cxlvi. 3._
     My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not.
_Proverbs i. 10._
     Wisdom crieth without; she uttereth her voice in the street.
_Proverbs i. 20._
     Length of days is in her right hand; and in her left hand riches
     and honour.
_Proverbs iii. 16._
     Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.
_Proverbs iii. 17._
     Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom; and with all
     thy getting get understanding.
_Proverbs iv. 7._
     The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more
     and more unto the perfect day.
_Proverbs iv. 18._
     Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise.
_Proverbs vi. 6._
     Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the
     hands to sleep.
_Proverbs vi. 10; xxiv. 33._
     So shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth, and thy want as
     an armed man.
_Proverbs vi. 11._
     Can a man take fire in his bosom, and his clothes not be burned?
_Proverbs vi. 27._
     As an ox goeth to the slaughter.
_Proverbs vii. 22; Jeremiah xi. 19._
     Wisdom is better than rubies.
_Proverbs viii. 11._
     Stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant.
_Proverbs ix. 17._
     He knoweth not that the dead are there; and that her guests are
     in the depths of hell.
_Proverbs ix. 18._
     A wise son maketh a glad father.
_Proverbs x. 1._
     The memory of the just is blessed.
_Proverbs x. 7._
     The destruction of the poor is their poverty.
_Proverbs x. 15._
     In the multitude of counsellors there is safety.
_Proverbs xi. 14; xxiv. 6._
     He that is surety for a stranger shall smart for it.
_Proverbs xi. 15._
     As a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman which
     is without discretion.
_Proverbs xi. 22._
     The liberal soul shall be made fat.
_Proverbs xi. 25._
     A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast; but the tender
     mercies of the wicked are cruel.
_Proverbs xii. 10._
     Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.
_Proverbs xiii. 12._
     The way of transgressors is hard.
_Proverbs xiii. 15._
     He that spareth his rod hateth his son.
_Proverbs xiii. 24._
     Fools make a mock at sin.
_Proverbs xiv. 9._
     The heart knoweth his own bitterness; and a stranger doth not
     intermeddle with his joy.
_Proverbs xiv. 10._
     The prudent man looketh well to his going.
_Proverbs xiv. 15._
     The talk of the lips tendeth only to penury.
_Proverbs xiv. 23._
     The righteous hath hope in his death.
_Proverbs xiv. 32._
     Righteousness exalteth a nation.
_Proverbs xiv. 34._
     A soft answer turneth away wrath.
_Proverbs xv. 1._
     A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance.
_Proverbs xv. 13._
     He that is of a merry heart hath a continual feast.
_Proverbs xv. 15._
     Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and
     hatred therewith.
_Proverbs xv. 17._
     A word spoken in due season, how good is it!
_Proverbs xv. 23._
     A man's heart deviseth his way; but the Lord directeth his steps.
_Proverbs xvi. 9._
     Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a
     fall.
_Proverbs xvi. 18._
     The hoary head is a crown of glory.
_Proverbs xvi. 31._
     He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that
     ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city.
_Proverbs xvi. 32._
     The lot is cast into the lap; but the whole disposing thereof is
     of the Lord.
_Proverbs xvi. 33._
     A gift is as a precious stone in the eyes of him that hath it.
_Proverbs xvii. 8._
     He that repeateth a matter separateth very friends.
_Proverbs xvii. 9._
     A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.
_Proverbs xvii. 22._
     The eyes of a fool are in the ends of the earth.
_Proverbs xvii. 24._
     He that hath knowledge spareth his words.
_Proverbs xvii. 27._
     Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise.
_Proverbs xvii. 28._
     A wounded spirit who can bear?
_Proverbs xviii. 14._
     Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing.
_Proverbs xviii. 22._
     A man that hath friends must show himself friendly; and there is
     a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.
_Proverbs xviii. 24._
     He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord.
_Proverbs xix. 17._
     Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging.
_Proverbs xx. 1._
     Every fool will be meddling.
_Proverbs xx. 3._
     The hearing ear and the seeing eye.
_Proverbs xx. 12._
     It is naught, it is naught, saith the buyer; but when he is gone
     his way, then he boasteth.
_Proverbs xx. 14._
     It is better to dwell in a corner of the housetop than with a
     brawling woman in a wide house.
_Proverbs xxi. 9._
     A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches.
_Proverbs xxii. 1._
     Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old he
     will not depart from it.
_Proverbs xxii. 6._
     The borrower is servant to the lender.
_Proverbs xxii. 7._
     Remove not the ancient landmark.
_Proverbs xxii. 28; xxiii. 10._
     Seest thou a man diligent in his business? He shall stand before
     kings; he shall not stand before mean men.
_Proverbs xxii. 29._
     Put a knife to thy throat, if thou be a man given to appetite.
_Proverbs xxiii. 2._
     Riches certainly make themselves wings.
_Proverbs xxiii. 5._
     As he thinketh in his heart, so is he.
_Proverbs xxiii. 7._
     Drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags.
_Proverbs xxiii. 21._
     Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his
     colour in the cup; . . . at the last it biteth like a serpent,
     and stingeth like an adder.
_Proverbs xxiii. 31, 32._
     A wise man is strong; yea, a man of knowledge increaseth
     strength.
_Proverbs xxiv. 5._
     If thou faint in the day of adversity thy strength is small.
_Proverbs xxiv. 10._
     A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.
_Proverbs xxv. 11._
     Heap coals of fire upon his head.
_Proverbs xxv. 22._
     As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far
     country.
_Proverbs xxv. 25._
     As the bird by wandering, as the swallow by flying, so the curse
     causeless shall not come.
_Proverbs xxvi. 2._
     Answer a fool according to his folly.
_Proverbs xxvi. 5._
     Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit? There is more hope of a
     fool than of him.
_Proverbs xxvi. 12._
     There is a lion in the way; a lion is in the streets.
_Proverbs xxvi. 13._
     Wiser in his own conceit than seven men that can render a reason.
_Proverbs xxvi. 16._
     Whoso diggeth a pit shall fall therein.
_Proverbs xxvi. 27._
     Boast not thyself of to-morrow; for thou knowest not what a day
     may bring forth.
_Proverbs xxvii. 1._
     Open rebuke is better than secret love.
_Proverbs xxvii. 5._
     Faithful are the wounds of a friend.
_Proverbs xxvii. 6._
     A continual dropping in a very rainy day and a contentious woman
     are alike.
_Proverbs xxvii. 15._
     Iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his
     friend.
_Proverbs xxvii. 17._
     Though thou shouldest bray a fool in a mortar among wheat with a
     pestle, yet will not his foolishness depart from him.
_Proverbs xxvii. 22._
     The wicked flee when no man pursueth; but the righteous are bold
     as a lion.
_Proverbs xxviii. 1._
     He that maketh haste to be rich shall not be innocent.
_Proverbs xxviii. 20._
     Where there is no vision, the people perish.
_Proverbs xxix. 18._
     Give me neither poverty nor riches.
_Proverbs xxx. 8._
     The horseleech hath two daughters, crying, Give, give.
_Proverbs xxx. 15._
     In her tongue is the law of kindness.
_Proverbs xxxi. 26._
     She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the
     bread of idleness.
_Proverbs xxxi. 27._
     Her children arise up and call her blessed.
_Proverbs xxxi. 28._
     Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.
_Proverbs xxxi. 29._
     Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain.
_Proverbs xxxi. 30._
     Vanity of vanities, . . . all is vanity.
_Ecclesiastes i. 2; xii. 8._
     One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh.
_Ecclesiastes i. 4._
     The eye is not satisfied with seeing.
_Ecclesiastes i. 8._
     There is no new thing under the sun.
_Ecclesiastes i. 9._
     Is there anything whereof it may be said, See, this is new? It
     hath been already of old time, which was before us.
_Ecclesiastes i. 10._
     All is vanity and vexation of spirit.
_Ecclesiastes i. 14._
     He that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.
_Ecclesiastes i. 18._
     One event happeneth to them all.
_Ecclesiastes ii. 14._
     To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose
     under the heaven.
_Ecclesiastes iii. 1._
     A threefold cord is not quickly broken.
_Ecclesiastes iv. 12._
     Let thy words be few.
_Ecclesiastes v. 2._
     Better is it that thou shouldest not vow, than that thou
     shouldest vow and not pay.
_Ecclesiastes v. 5._
     The sleep of a labouring man is sweet.
_Ecclesiastes v. 12._
     A good name is better than precious ointment.
_Ecclesiastes vii. 1._
     It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the
     house of feasting.
_Ecclesiastes vii. 2._
     As the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of a
     fool.
_Ecclesiastes vii. 6._
     In the day of prosperity be joyful, but in the day of adversity
     consider.
_Ecclesiastes vii. 14._
     Be not righteous overmuch.
_Ecclesiastes vii. 16._
     One man among a thousand have I found; but a woman among all
     those have I not found.
_Ecclesiastes vii. 28._
     God hath made man upright; but they have sought out many
     inventions.
_Ecclesiastes vii. 29._
     There is no discharge in that war.
_Ecclesiastes viii. 8._
     To eat, and to drink, and to be merry.
_Ecclesiastes viii. 15; Luke xii. 19._
     A living dog is better than a dead lion.
_Ecclesiastes ix. 4._
     Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.
_Ecclesiastes ix. 10._
     The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.
_Ecclesiastes ix. 11._
     A bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath
     wings shall tell the matter.
_Ecclesiastes ix. 20._
     Cast thy bread upon the waters; for thou shalt find it after many
     days.
_Ecclesiastes xi. 1._
     In the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be.
_Ecclesiastes xi. 3._
     He that observeth the wind shall not sow; and he that regardeth
     the clouds shall not reap.
_Ecclesiastes xi. 4._
     In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not
     thine hand.
_Ecclesiastes xi. 6._
     Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes
     to behold the sun.
_Ecclesiastes xi. 7._
     Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth.
_Ecclesiastes xi. 9._
     Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.
_Ecclesiastes xii. 1._
     The grinders cease because they are few.
_Ecclesiastes xii. 3._
     The grasshopper shall be a burden, and desire shall fail; because
     man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the
     streets.
_Ecclesiastes xii. 5._
     Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken,
     or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at
     the cistern.
_Ecclesiastes xii. 6._
     Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was; and the spirit
     shall return unto God who gave it.
_Ecclesiastes xii. 7._
     The words of the wise are as goads, and as nails fastened by the
     masters of assemblies.
_Ecclesiastes xii. 11._
     Of making many books there is no end; and much study is a
     weariness of the flesh.
_Ecclesiastes xii. 12._
     Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and
     keep his commandments; for this is the whole duty of man.
_Ecclesiastes xii. 13._
     For, lo! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the
     flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is
     come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.
_The Song of Solomon ii. 11, 12._
     The little foxes, that spoil the vines.
_The Song of Solomon ii. 15._
     Terrible as an army with banners.
_The Song of Solomon vi. 4, 10._
     Like the best wine, . . . that goeth down sweetly, causing the
     lips of those that are asleep to speak.
_The Song of Solomon vii. 9._
     Love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave.
_The Song of Solomon viii. 6._
     Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.
_The Song of Solomon viii. 7._
     The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib.
_Isaiah i. 3._
     The whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint.
_Isaiah i. 5._
     As a lodge in a garden of cucumbers.
_Isaiah i. 8._
     They shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears
     into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against
     nation, neither shall they learn war any more.
_Isaiah ii. 4; Micah iv. 3._
     In that day a man shall cast his idols . . . to the moles and to
     the bats.
_Isaiah ii. 20._
     Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils.
_Isaiah ii. 22._
     The stay and the staff, the whole stay of bread, and the whole
     stay of water.
_Isaiah iii. 1._
     Grind the faces of the poor.
_Isaiah iii. 15._
     Walk with stretched-forth necks and wanton eyes, walking and
     mincing as they go.
_Isaiah iii. 16._
     In that day seven women shall take hold of one man.
_Isaiah iv. 1._
     Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil.
_Isaiah v. 20._
     I am a man of unclean lips.
_Isaiah vi. 5._
     The Lord shall hiss for the fly that is in the uttermost parts of
     the rivers of Egypt.
_Isaiah vii. 18._
     Wizards that peep and that mutter.
_Isaiah viii. 19._
     To the law and to the testimony.
_Isaiah viii. 20._
     The ancient and honorable.
_Isaiah ix. 15._
     The spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom
     and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of
     knowledge and of the fear of the Lord.
_Isaiah xi. 2._
     The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall
     lie down with the kid.
_Isaiah xi. 6._
     Hell from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy coming.
_Isaiah xiv. 9._
     How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!
_Isaiah xiv. 12._
     The burden of the desert of the sea.
_Isaiah xxi. 1._
     Babylon is fallen, is fallen.
_Isaiah xxi. 9._
     Watchman, what of the night?
_Isaiah xxi. 11._
     Let us eat and drink; for to-morrow we shall die.
_Isaiah xxii. 13._
     Fasten him as a nail in a sure place.
_Isaiah xxii. 23._
     Whose merchants are princes.
_Isaiah xxiii. 8._
     A feast of fat things.
_Isaiah xxv. 6._
     For precept must be upon precept, precept upon precept; line upon
     line, line upon line; here a little, and there a little.
_Isaiah xxviii. 10._
     We have made a covenant with death, and with hell are we at
     agreement.
_Isaiah xxviii. 15._
     Their strength is to sit still.
_Isaiah xxx. 7._
     Now go, write it before them in a table, and note it in a book.
_Isaiah xxx. 8._
     The desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose.
_Isaiah xxxv. 1._
     Thou trustest in the staff of this broken reed.
_Isaiah xxxvi. 6._
     Set thine house in order.
_Isaiah xxxviii. 1._
     All flesh is grass.
_Isaiah xl. 6._
     The nations are as a drop of a bucket.
_Isaiah xl. 15._
     A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he
     not quench.
_Isaiah xlii. 3._
     There is no peace, saith the Lord, unto the wicked.
_Isaiah xlviii. 22._
     He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter.
_Isaiah liii. 7._
     Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his
     thoughts.
_Isaiah lv. 7._
     A little one shall become a thousand, and a small one a strong
     nation.
_Isaiah lx. 22._
     Give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the
     garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.
_Isaiah lxi. 3._
     I have trodden the wine-press alone.
_Isaiah lxiii. 3._
     We all do fade as a leaf.
_Isaiah lxiv. 6._
     Peace, peace; when there is no peace.
_Jeremiah vi. 14; viii. 11._
     Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, where
     is the good way, and walk therein.
_Jeremiah vi. 16._
     Amend your ways and your doings.
_Jeremiah vii. 3; xxvi. 13._
     Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there?
_Jeremiah viii. 22._
     Oh that I had in the wilderness a lodging-place of wayfaring men!
_Jeremiah ix. 2._
     Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots?
_Jeremiah xiii. 23._
     A man of strife and a man of contention.
_Jeremiah xv. 10._
     Written with a pen of iron, and with the point of a diamond.
_Jeremiah xvii. 1._
     He shall be buried with the burial of an ass.
_Jeremiah xxii. 19._
     As if a wheel had been in the midst of a wheel.
_Ezekiel x. 10._
     The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are
     set on edge.
_Ezekiel xviii. 2_; (_Jeremiah xxxi. 29._)
     Stood at the parting of the way.
_Ezekiel xxi. 21._
     Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting.
_Daniel v. 27._
     According to the law of the Medes and Persians.
_Daniel vi. 12._
     Many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased.
_Daniel xii. 4._
     They have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.
_Hosea viii. 7._
     I have multiplied visions, and used similitudes.
_Hosea viii. 10._
     Your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see
     visions.
_Joel ii. 28._
     Multitudes in the valley of decision.
_Joel iii. 14._
     They shall sit every man under his vine and under his fig-tree.
_Micah iv. 4._
     Write the vision, and make it plain upon tables, that he may run
     that readeth it.
_Habakkuk ii. 2._
     Your fathers, where are they? And the prophets, do they live
     forever?
_Zechariah i. 5._
     For who hath despised the day of small things?
_Zechariah iv. 10._
     Prisoners of hope.
_Zechariah ix. 12._
     I was wounded in the house of my friends.
_Zechariah xiii. 6._
     But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness
     arise with healing in his wings.
_Malachi iv. 2._
     Great is truth, and mighty above all things.
_1 Esdras iv. 41._
     Unto you is paradise opened.
_2 Esdras viii. 52._
     I shall light a candle of understanding in thine heart, which
     shall not be put out.
_2 Esdras xiv. 25._
     So they [Azarias and Tobias] went forth both, and the young man's
     dog went with them.
_Tobit v. 16._
     So they went their way, and the dog went after them.
_Tobit xi. 4._
     Our time is a very shadow that passeth away.
_Wisdom of Solomon ii. 5._
     Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they be withered.
_Wisdom of Solomon ii. 8._
     Wisdom is the gray hair unto men, and an unspotted life is old
     age.
_Wisdom of Solomon iv. 8._
     When I was born I drew in the common air, and fell upon the
     earth, which is of like nature, and the first voice which I
     uttered was crying, as all others do.
_Wisdom of Solomon vii. 3._
     Observe the opportunity.
_Ecclesiasticus iv. 20._
     Be not ignorant of anything in a great matter or a small.
_Ecclesiasticus v. 15._
     Whatsoever thou takest in hand, remember the end, and thou shalt
     never do amiss.
_Ecclesiasticus vii. 36._
     Miss not the discourse of the elders.
_Ecclesiasticus viii. 9._
     Forsake not an old friend, for the new is not comparable unto
     him. A new friend is as new wine: when it is old thou shalt drink
     it with pleasure.
_Ecclesiasticus ix. 10._
     He that toucheth pitch shall be defiled therewith.
_Ecclesiasticus xiii. 1._
     He will laugh thee to scorn.
_Ecclesiasticus xiii. 7._
     Gladness of heart is the life of man, and the joyfulness of a man
     prolongeth his days.
_Ecclesiasticus xxx. 22._
     Consider that I laboured not for myself only, but for all them
     that seek learning.
_Ecclesiasticus xxxiii. 17._
     For of the most High cometh healing.
_Ecclesiasticus xxxviii. 2._
     Whose talk is of bullocks.
_Ecclesiasticus xxxviii. 25._
     These were honoured in their generations, and were the glory of
     the times.
_Ecclesiasticus xliv. 7._
     There be of them that have left a name behind them.
_Ecclesiasticus xliv. 8._
     Nicanor lay dead in his harness.
_2 Maccabees xv. 28._
     If I have done well, and as is fitting, . . . it is that which I
     desired; but if slenderly and meanly, it is that which I could
     attain unto.
_2 Maccabees xv. 38._
NEW TESTAMENT.
     Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted,
     because they are not.
_Matthew ii. 18; Jeremiah xxxi. 15_.
     Man shall not live by bread alone.
_Matthew iv. 4; Deuteronomy viii. 3_.
     Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his
     savour, wherewith shall it be salted?
_Matthew v. 13._
     Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill
     cannot be hid.
_Matthew v. 14._
     Ye have heard that it have been said, Thou shalt love thy
     neighbour, and hate thine enemy.
_Matthew v. 43._
     Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of
     them.
_Matthew vi. 1._
     When thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right
     hand doeth.
_Matthew vi. 3._
     They think that they shall be heard for their much speaking.
_Matthew vi. 7._
     Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven.
_Matthew vi. 20._
     Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.
_Matthew vi. 21._
     The light of the body is the eye.
_Matthew vi. 22._
     Ye cannot serve God and Mammon.
_Matthew vi. 24._
     Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye
     shall drink.
_Matthew vi. 25._
     Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not,
     neither do they spin.
_Matthew vi. 28._
     Take therefore no thought for the morrow; for the morrow shall
     take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is
     the evil thereof.
_Matthew vi. 34._
     Neither cast ye your pearls before swine.
_Matthew vii. 6._
     Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock,
     and it shall be opened unto you.
_Matthew vii. 7._
     Every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth.
_Matthew vii. 8._
     Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he
     give him a stone?
_Matthew vii. 9._
     Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to
     you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets.
_Matthew vii. 12._
     Wide is the gate and broad is the way that leadeth to
     destruction.
_Matthew vii. 13._
     Strait is the gate and narrow is the way.
_Matthew vii. 14._
     By their fruits ye shall know them.
_Matthew vii. 20._
     It was founded upon a rock.
_Matthew vii. 25._
     The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but
     the Son of Man hath not where to lay his head.
_Matthew viii. 20._
     The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few.
_Matthew ix. 37._
     Be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.
_Matthew x. 16._
     The very hairs of your head are all numbered.
_Matthew x. 30._
     Wisdom is justified of her children.
_Matthew xi. 19; Luke vii. 35_.
     The tree is known by his fruit.
_Matthew xii. 33._
     Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.
_Matthew xii. 34._
     Pearl of great price.
_Matthew xiii. 46._
     A prophet is not without honour, save in his own country and in
     his own house.
_Matthew xiii. 57._
     Be of good cheer: it is I; be not afraid.
_Matthew xiv. 27._
     If the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch.
_Matthew xv. 14._
     The dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters' table.
_Matthew xv. 27._
     When it is evening, ye say it will be fair weather: for the sky
     is red.
_Matthew xvi. 2._
     The signs of the times.
_Matthew xvi. 3._
     Get thee behind me, Satan.
_Matthew xvi. 23._
     What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and
     lose his own soul?
_Matthew xvi. 26._
     It is good for us to be here.
_Matthew xvii. 4._
     What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.
_Matthew xix. 6._
     Love thy neighbour as thyself.
_Matthew xix. 19._
     It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than
     for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.
_Matthew xix. 24._
     Borne the burden and heat of the day.
_Matthew xx. 12._
     Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own?
_Matthew xx. 15._
     For many are called, but few are chosen.
_Matthew xxii. 14._
     They made light of it.
_Matthew xxii. 5._
     Render therefore unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's.
_Matthew xxii. 21._
     Woe unto you, . . . for ye pay tithe of mint and anise and
     cummin.
_Matthew xxiii. 23._
     Blind guides, which strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel.
_Matthew xxiii. 24._
     Whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are
     within full of dead men's bones.
_Matthew xxiii. 27._
     As a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings.
_Matthew xxiii. 37._
     Wars and rumours of wars.
_Matthew xxiv. 6._
     The end is not yet.
_Matthew xxiv. 6._
     Wheresoever the carcass is, there will the eagles be gathered
     together.
_Matthew xxiv. 28._
     Abomination of desolation.
_Matthew xxiv. 15; Mark xiii. 14_.
     Unto every one that hath shall be given, and he shall have
     abundance; but from him that hath not shall be taken away even
     that which he hath.
_Matthew xxv. 29._
     The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.
_Matthew xxvi. 41._
     The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath.
_Mark ii. 27._
     If a house be divided against itself, that house cannot stand.
_Mark iii. 25._
     He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.
_Mark iv. 9._
     My name is Legion.
_Mark v. 9._
     My little daughter lieth at the point of death.
_Mark v. 23._
     Clothed, and in his right mind.
_Mark v. 15; Luke viii. 35_.
     Where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.
_Mark ix. 44._
     Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward
     men.
_Luke ii. 14._
     The axe is laid unto the root of the trees.
_Luke iii. 9._
     Physician, heal thyself.
_Luke iv. 23._
     Woe unto you, when all men shall speak well of you!
_Luke vi. 26._
     Nothing is secret which shall not be made manifest.
_Luke viii. 17._
     Peace be to this house.
_Luke x. 5._
     The labourer is worthy of his hire.
_Luke x. 7; 1 Timothy v. 18_.
     Go, and do thou likewise.
_Luke x. 37._
     But one thing is needful; and Mary hath chosen that good part
     which shall not be taken away from her.
_Luke x. 42._
     He that is not with me is against me.
_Luke xi. 23._
     Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine
     ease, eat, drink, and be merry.
_Luke xii. 19._
     Let your loins be girded about, and your lights burning.
_Luke xii. 35._
     Which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first,
     and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it.
_Luke xiv. 28._
     The children of this world are in their generation wiser than the
     children of light.
_Luke xvi. 8._
     It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his
     neck, and he cast into the sea.
_Luke xvii. 2._
     Remember Lot's wife.
_Luke xvii. 32._
     Out of thine own mouth will I judge thee.
_Luke xix. 22._
     If they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in
     the dry?
_Luke xxiii. 31._
     He was a good man, and a just.
_Luke xxiii. 50._
     Did not our heart burn within us while he talked with us?
_Luke xxiv. 32._
     The true light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the
     world.
_John i. 9._
     Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?
_John i. 46._
     The wind bloweth where it listeth.
_John iii. 8._
     He was a burning and a shining light.
_John v. 35._
     Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost.
_John vi. 12._
     Judge not according to the appearance.
_John vii. 24._
     The truth shall make you free.
_John viii. 32._
     There is no truth in him.
_John viii. 44._
     The night cometh when no man can work.
_John ix. 4._
     The poor always ye have with you.
_John xii. 8._
     Walk while ye have the light, lest darkness come upon you.
_John xii. 35._
     Let not your heart be troubled.
_John xiv. 1._
     In my Father's house are many mansions.
_John xiv. 2._
     Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life
     for his friends.
_John xv. 13._
     Thy money perish with thee.
_Acts viii. 20._
     It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.
_Acts ix. 5._
     Now there was at Joppa a certain disciple named Tabitha, which by
     interpretation is called Dorcas: this woman was full of good
     works and almsdeeds which she did.
_Acts ix. 36._
     Lewd fellows of the baser sort.
_Acts xvii. 5._
     Great is Diana of the Ephesians.
_Acts xix. 28._
     The law is open.
_Acts xix. 38._
     It is more blessed to give than to receive.
_Acts xx. 35._
     Brought up in this city at the feet of Gamaliel.
_Acts xxii. 3._
     When I have a convenient season, I will call for thee.
_Acts xxiv. 25._
     I appeal unto Cæsar.
_Acts xxx. 11._
     Words of truth and soberness.
_Acts xxvi. 25._
     For this thing was not done in a corner.
_Acts xxvi. 26._
     Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.
_Acts xxvi. 28._
     There is no respect of persons with God.
_Romans ii. 11._
     Fear of God before their eyes.
_Romans ii. 18._
     God forbid.
_Romans ii. 31._
     Who against hope believed in hope.
_Romans iv. 18._
     Speak after the manner of men.
_Romans vi. 19._
     The wages of sin is death.
_Romans vi. 23._
     For the good that I would I do not; but the evil which I would
     not, that I do.
_Romans viii. 19._
     All things work together for good to them that love God.
_Romans viii. 28._
     Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make
     one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?
_Romans ix. 21._
     A zeal of God, but not according to knowledge.
_Romans x. 2._
     Given to hospitality.
_Romans xii. 13._
     Be not wise in your own conceits.
_Romans xii. 16._
     Recompense to no man evil for evil. Provide things honest in the
     sight of all men.
_Romans xii. 17._
     If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with
     all men.
_Romans xii. 18._
     If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink:
     for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head.
_Romans xii. 20._
     Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.
_Romans xii. 21._
     The powers that be are ordained of God.
_Romans xiii. 1._
     Render therefore to all their dues.
_Romans xiii. 7._
     Owe no man anything, but to love one another.
_Romans xiii. 8._
     Love is the fulfilling of the law.
_Romans xiii. 10._
     Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind.
_Romans xiv. 5._
     God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the
     wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to
     confound the things that are mighty.
_1 Corinthians i. 27._
     I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase.
_1 Corinthians iii. 6._
     Every man's work shall be made manifest.
_1 Corinthians iii. 13._
     Not to think of men above that which is written.
_1 Corinthians iv. 6._
     Absent in body, but present in spirit.
_1 Corinthians v. 3._
     The fashion of this world passeth away.
_1 Corinthians vii. 31._
     I am made all things to all men.
_1 Corinthians ix. 22._
     Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.
_1 Corinthians x. 12._
     Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have
     not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
_1 Corinthians xiii. 1._
     Though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and
     have not charity, I am nothing.
_1 Corinthians xiii. 2._
     Charity suffereth long and is kind; charity envieth not; charity
     vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up.
_1 Corinthians xiii. 4._
     We know in part, and we prophesy in part.
_1 Corinthians xiii. 9._
     When I was a child, I spake as a child. . . . When I became a
     man, I put away childish things.
_1 Corinthians xiii. 11._
     Now we see through a glass, darkly.
_1 Corinthians xiii. 12._
     And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the
     greatest of these is charity.
_1 Corinthians xiii. 13._
     If the trumpet give an uncertain sound.
_1 Corinthians xiv. 8._
     Let all things be done decently and in order.
_1 Corinthians xiv. 40._
     Evil communications corrupt good manners.
_1 Corinthians xv. 33._
     The first man is of the earth, earthy.
_1 Corinthians xv. 47._
     In the twinkling of an eye.
_1 Corinthians xv. 52._
     O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?
_1 Corinthians xv. 55._
     Not of the letter, but of the spirit; for the letter killeth, but
     the spirit giveth life.
_2 Corinthians iii. 6._
     We have such hope, we use great plainness of speech.
_2 Corinthians iii. 12._
     We walk by faith, not by sight.
_2 Corinthians v. 7._
     Now is the accepted time.
_2 Corinthians vi. 2._
     By evil report and good report.
_2 Corinthians vi. 8._
     As having nothing, and yet possessing all things.
_2 Corinthians vi. 10._
     Though I be rude in speech.
_2 Corinthians xi. 6._
     Forty stripes save one.
_2 Corinthians xi. 24._
     A thorn in the flesh.
_2 Corinthians xii. 7._
     Strength is made perfect in weakness.
_2 Corinthians xii. 9._
     The right hands of fellowship.
_Galatians ii. 9._
     Weak and beggarly elements.
_Galatians iv. 9._
     It is good to be zealously affected always in a good thing.
_Galatians iv. 18._
     Ye are fallen from grace.
_Galatians v. 4._
     A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump.
_Galatians v. 9._
     Every man shall bear his own burden.
_Galatians vi. 5._
     Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.
_Galatians vi. 7._
     Middle wall of partition.
_Ephesians ii. 14._
     Carried about with every wind of doctrine.
_Ephesians iv. 14._
     Speak every man truth with his neighbour.
_Ephesians iv. 25._
     Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your
     wrath.
_Ephesians iv. 26._
     To live is Christ, and to die is gain.
_Philippians i. 21._
     Whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame.
_Philippians iii. 19._
     The peace of God, which passeth all understanding.
_Philippians iv. 7._
     Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest,
     whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure,
     whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good
     report: if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think
     on these things.
_Philippians iv. 8._
     I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be
     content.
_Philippians iv. 11._
     Touch not; taste not; handle not.
_Colossians ii. 21._
     Set your affections on things above, not on things on the earth.
_Colossians iii. 2._
     Let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt.
_Colossians iv. 6._
     Labour of love.
_1 Thessalonians i. 3._
     Study to be quiet.
_1 Thessalonians iv. 11._
     Prove all things; hold fast that which is good.
_1 Thessalonians v. 21._
     The law is good, if a man use it lawfully.
_1 Timothy i. 8._
     Not greedy of filthy lucre.
_1 Timothy iii. 3._
     He hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel.
_1 Timothy v. 8._
     Busybodies, speaking things which they ought not.
_1 Timothy v. 13._
     Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's
     sake.
_1 Timothy v. 23._
     The love of money is the root of all evil.
_1 Timothy vi. 10._
     Fight the good fight.
_1 Timothy vi. 12._
     Rich in good works.
_1 Timothy vi. 18._
     Science falsely so called.
_1 Timothy vi. 20._
     A workman that needeth not to be ashamed.
_2 Timothy ii. 15._
     I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have
     kept the faith.
_2 Timothy iv. 7._
     Unto the pure all things are pure.
_Titus i. 15._
     Such as have need of milk, and not of strong meat.
_Hebrews v. 12._
     Every one that useth milk is unskilful in the word of
     righteousness: for he is a babe.
_Hebrews v. 13._
     Strong meat belongeth to them that are of full age.
_Hebrews v. 14._
     If God be for us, who can be against us.
_Hebrews viii. 31._
     Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of
     things not seen.
_Hebrews xi. 1._
     Of whom the world was not worthy.
_Hebrews xi. 38._
     A cloud of witnesses.
_Hebrews xii. 1._
     Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth.
_Hebrews xii. 6._
     The spirits of just men made perfect.
_Hebrews xii. 23._
     Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have
     entertained angels unawares.
_Hebrews xiii. 2._
     Yesterday, and to-day, and forever.
_Hebrews xiii. 8._
     Blessed is the man that endureth temptation; for when he is
     tried, he shall receive the crown of life.
_James i. 12._
    Be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath.
_James i. 19._
    How great a matter a little fire kindleth!
_James iii. 5._
    The tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil.
_James iii. 8._
    Resist the Devil, and he will flee from you.
_James iv. 7._
    Hope to the end.
_1 Peter i. 13._
    Fear God. Honour the king.
_1 Peter ii. 17._
    Ornament of a meek and quiet spirit.
_1 Peter iii. 4._
     Giving honour unto the wife as unto the weaker vessel.
_1 Peter iii. 7._
    Be ye all of one mind.
_1 Peter iii. 8._
    Charity shall cover the multitude of sins.
_1 Peter iv. 8._
     Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary, the Devil, as a
     roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.
_1 Peter v. 8._
    And the day star arise in your hearts.
_2 Peter i. 19._
    The dog is turned to his own vomit again.
_2 Peter ii. 22._
    Bowels of compassion.
_1 John iii. 17._
     There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.
_1 John iv. 18._
    Be thou faithful unto death.
_Revelation ii. 10._
    He shall rule them with a rod of iron.
_Revelation ii. 27._
    All nations and kindreds and tongues.
_Revelation vii. 9._
     I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and
     the last.
_Revelation xxii. 13._
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER.
     We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; and
     we have done those things which we ought not to have done.
_Morning Prayer._
     The noble army of martyrs.
_Morning Prayer._
     Afflicted, or distressed, in mind, body, or estate.
_Prayer for all Conditions of Men._
     Have mercy upon us miserable sinners.
_The Litany._
     From envy, hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness.
_The Litany._
     The world, the flesh, and the devil.
_The Litany._
     The kindly fruits of the earth.
_The Litany._
     Read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest.
_Collect for the Second Sunday in Advent._
     Renounce the Devil and all his works.
_Baptism of Infants._
     Grant that the old Adam in these persons may be so buried, that
     the new man may be raised up in them.
_Baptism of those of Riper Years._
     The pomps and vanity of this wicked world.
_Catechism._
     To keep my hands from picking and stealing.
_Catechism._
     To do my duty in that state of life unto which it shall please
     God to call me.
_Catechism._
     An outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.
_Catechism._
     Let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.
_Solemnization of Matrimony._
     To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse,
     for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to
     cherish, till death us do part.
_Solemnization of Matrimony._
     To love, cherish, and to obey.
_Solemnization of Matrimony._
     With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with
     all my worldly goods I thee endow.
_Solemnization of Matrimony._
     In the midst of life we are in death.
_The Burial Service._
     Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain
     hope of the resurrection.
_The Burial Service._
     Whose service is perfect freedom.
_Collect for Peace._
     Show thy servant the light of thy countenance.
_The Psalter. Psalm xxxi. 18._
     But it was even thou, my companion, my guide, and mine own
     familiar friend.
_The Psalter. Psalm lv. 14._
     Men to be of one mind in an house.
_The Psalter. Psalm lxviii. 6._
     The iron entered into his soul.
_The Psalter. Psalm cv. 18._
     The dew of thy birth is of the womb of the morning.
_The Psalter. Psalm cx. 3._
TATE AND BRADY.
    Untimely grave.
_Psalm vii._
    And though he promise to his loss,
    He makes his promise good.
_Psalm xv. 5._
    The sweet remembrance of the just
    Shall flourish when he sleeps in dust.
_Psalm cxii. 6._