« PředchozíPokračovat »
accustomed to, and we always find that play, when followed with assiduity, engrosses the whole woman. She quickly grows uneasy in her own family, takes but little pleasure in all the domestic innocent endearments of life, and grows more fond of Pam, than of her husband. Guardian.
CCLIII. Were a man of pleasure to arrive at the full extent of his several wishes, he must immediately feel himself miserable. It is one species of despair to have no room to hope for any addition to one's happiness. His following wish must then be to wish he had some fresh object for his wishes: a strong argument that our minds and bodies were both meant to be for ever active. Shenstone.
CCLIV. Scholars cannot avoid the painful and alarming recollection, that in this race for literary fame, “many are called, but few chosen;" and that the high distinction which accompanies the character of a real scholar, depends more upon nature than art: all are not equally capable and docile; ex omni ligno non fit Mercurius. Kings may create majors, knights, barons, and other of ficers, but cannot make scholars, philosophers, artists, orators, and poets.-Burton.
CCLV. A young raw preacher is a bird not yet fledged, that hath hopped out of his nest to be chirping on a hedge, and will be straggling abroad at what peril soever. The pace of his sermon is a full career, and he runs wildly over hill and dale, till the clock stop him. The labour of it is chiefly in his lungs; and the only thing he has made in it himself, is the faces. His action is all passion, and his speech interjections. He has an excellent faculty in bemoaning the people, and spits with a very good grace. His style is compounded of twenty several men's, only his body imitates some one extraordinary. He will not draw his handkercher out of his place, nor blow his nose without discretion. His commendation is,
that he never looks upon book; and indeed he was néa ver used to it. He preaches but once a year, though twice on Sunday; for the stuff is still the same, only the dressing a little altered: he has more tricks with a sermon, than a tailor with an old cloak, to turn it, and piece it, and at last quite disguise it with a new preface. if he have waded farther in his profession, and would show reading of his own, his authors are postils, and his school-divinity a catechism.-Bishop Earle.
CCLVI. Those alone may be vouched for who are good alone. Those who are not good alone, may be bettered by association; good company cannot pejorate.--Zimmerman.
CCLVII. When you have pared away all the vanity, what solid and natural contentment does there remain, which may not be had with five hundred pounds a year?-Cowley.
CCLIX. If wit is to be measured by the circumstances of time and place, there is no man has generally so little of that talent as he who is a wit by profession.' What he says, instead of arising from the occasion, has an occasion invented to bring it in. Thus he is new for no other rea
son, but that he talks like nobody else: but has taken
CCLXII. Whoever shall know himself may boldly be his own rumpeter, and listen with less danger to parasites and flatterers, who, with immoderate praise, bombast epithets, glozing titles, and false eulogiums, so bedaub, applaud, and gild over many a silly undeserving man, that they drive him quite out of his wits.--Montaigne.
By which some glorious feats achieve, . .
CCLXV. If you should see a man, who were to cross from Dover to Calais, run about very busy and solicitous, and trouble himself many weeks before in making provisions For his voyage, would you commend him for a cautious and discreet person, or laugh at him for a timorous and impertinent coxcomb? A man, who is excessive in his pains and diligence, and who consumes the greatest part of his time in furnishing the remainder with all conveniences and even superfluities, is to angels and wise men no less riqliculous; he does as little consider the shortness of his passage, that he might proportion his cares accordingly. It is, alas! so narrow a strait betwixt the womb and the grave, that it might be called
the Pas de Vie, as well as that the Pas de Calais. — Cowley.
CCLXVI. Surely that preaching which comes from the soul, most works on the soul. Some have questioned ventriloquism, when men speak strangely out of their bellies, whether it can be done lawfully or no: might I coin the word cordiloquie, when men draw the doctrines out of their hearts, sure all would count this lawful and commendable. ---Fuller.
CCLXVII. In matters of learning and philosophy, the practice of pulling down is far pleasanter, and affords more entertainment, than that of building and setting up. Many have succeeded to a miracle, in the first, who have miserably failed in the latter of these attempts. We may find a thousand engineers, who can sap, undermine, and blow up, with admirable dexterity for one single one, who can build a fort, or lay the platform of a citadel. And though compassion in real war may make the ruinous practice less delightful, 'tis certain that in the literate warring world, the springing of mines, the blowing up of towers, bastions, and ramparts of philosophy, with systems, hypotheses, opinions, and doctrines, into the air, is a spectacle of all other the most naturally rejoicing.-Shaftesbury.
CCLXVIII. The common humour of all gamesters is, whilst they win, to be always jovial, merry, good-natured, and free; but, on the contrary, if they lose even the smallest trifle, a single hit at backgammon, or a dealing at cards for twopence a game, they are so choleric and testy, that they frequently break into violent passions, utter the most impious oaths, and horrid imprecations, and become so mad that no man dare to speak to them. But, alas! they have in general, especially if their stakes be large and excessive, more occasion to regret their winning than losing; for, as Seneca truly observes, their gains are not munera fortunæ, sed insidia; not fortune's