DCCCLXXIII.

Nor reigns ambition in bold man alone;
Soft female hearts the rude invader own.
But there, indeed, it deals in nicer things;
Than routing armies, and dethroning kings.
Attend, and you discern it in the fair,
Conduct a finger, or reclaim a hair;
Or rowl the lucid orbit of an eye,
Or in full joy elaborate a sigh.

DCCCLXXIV.

Young.

Liking is not always the child of beauty; but whatsoever is liked, to the liker is beautiful.-Sir P. Sidney.

DCCCLXXV.

Let ignorance with envy chat,

In spite of both, thou fame shalt win;
Whose mass of learning seems like that
Which Joseph gave to Benjamin.

Herrick-to Ben Jonson.

DCCCLXXVI.

A little philosophy inclineth men's minds to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds to religion.-Lord Bacon.

DCCCLXXVII.

Reason thus with life,

If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing

That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art,
(Servile to all the skiey influences,)

That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st,
Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool;
For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun,

And yet run'st toward him still: thou art not noble,
For all the accommodations that thou bear'st,
Art nursed by baseness: thou art by no means valiant;
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork

Of a poor worm: thy best of rest is sleep,

2

And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st
Thy death which is no more. Thou art not thyself;
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains
That issue out of dust: happy thou art not:
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get;
And what thou hast, forget'st: thou art not certains
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
After the moon: if thou art rich, thou art poor;
For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee: friend hast thou none;
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum,

For ending thee no sooner: thou hast nor youth, nor age;
But, as it were, an after dinner's sleep,

Dreaming on both: for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms

Of palsied eld; and when thou art old, and rich,
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,
To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this,
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid more thousand deaths: yet death we fear,
That makes these odds all even.
Shakspeare.

DCCCLXXVIII.

Curiosity, from its nature, is a very active principle; it quickly runs over the greatest part of its objects, and -soon exhausts the variety which is common to be met with in nature: the same things make frequent returns, and they return with the less and less of any agreeable effect. In short, the occurrences of life, by the time we come to know it a little, would be incapable of affecting the mind with any other sensations than those of loathing and weariness, if many things were not adapted to affect the mind by means of other passions besides curiosity in ourselves. Some degree of novelty must be one of the materials in almost every instrument which works upon the mind, and curiosity blends itself, more or less, with all our pleasures.-Burke.

DCCCLXXIX.

True wisdom is a thing very extraordinary. Happy are they that have it: and next to them, not those many that think they have it, but those few that are sensible of their own defects and imperfections, and know that they have it not.-Tillotson.

DCCCLXXX.

Knowledge or wealth to few are given,
But mark how just the ways of Heaven;
True joy to all is free.

Nor wealth nor knowledge grant the boon,
'Tis thine, O conscience, thine alone,
It all belongs to thee.

DCCCLXXXI.

Mickle.

Apply to every passion but human pity for redress: you may find permanent relief from vanity, from selfinterest, or from avarice; but from compassion never. The very eloquence of a poor man is disgusting; and that mouth which is opened even by wisdom, is seldom expected to close without the horrors of a petition.

To ward off the gripe of Poverty, you must pretend to be a stranger to her, and she will at least use you with ceremony. If you be caught dining upon a halfpenny porringer of peas-soup and potatoes, praise the wholesomeness of your frugal repast. You may observe that Dr. Cheyne has prescribed peas-broth for the gravel; hint that you are not one of those who are always making a deity of your belly. If, again, you are obliged to wear a flimsy stuff in the midst of winter, be the first to remark, that stuffs are very much worn at Paris; or if there be found some irreparable defects in any part of your equipage, which cannot be concealed by all the arts of sitting cross-legged, coaxing, or darning, say, that neither you nor Sir Samson Gideon were ever very fond of dress. If you be a philosopher, hint that Plato or Seneca are the tailors you choose to employ; assure the company that man ought to be content with a bare covering, since what now is so much his pride was for

merly his shame. In short, however caught, never give out; but ascribe to the frugality of your disposition what others might be apt to attribute to the narrowness of your circumstances. To be poor, and to seem poor is a certain method never to rise: pride in the great is hateful; in the wise it is ridiculous; but beggarly pride is a rational vanity which I have been taught to applaud and excuse.-Goldsmith.

DCCCLXXXII.

It would deserve a particular lecture or recherche, how one ought to behave himself with children, servants, tenants, and neighbours; and I am confident, that precepts in this point will be found more useful to young gentlemen than all the subtleties of schools.-Life of Lord Herbert, of Cherbury.

DCCCLXXXIII.

Women of airy temper, as they seldom think: before they act; so they rarely give us any light to guess at what they mean. But you have little reason to believe that a woman of this age, who has had an indifference for you in your prosperity, will fall in love with your ill fortune. Besides, great fortunes either expect another great fortune, or a fool.-Congreve.

DCCCLXXXIV.

Thou more than most sweet glove,
Unto my more sweet love,
Suffer me to store with kisses

This empty lodging, that now misses
The pure rosy hand that wear thee,
Whiter than the kid that bear thee;
Thou art soft, but that was softer;
Cupid's self hath kiss'd it ofter
Than e'er he did his mother's doves,
Supposing her the queen of loves,
That was thy mistress, Best of gloves.

DCCCLXXXV.

Ben Jonson.

That fine part of our constitution, the eye, seems as much the receptacle and seat of our passions, appetites,

and inclinations, as the mind itself; and at least it is the outward portal to introduce them to the house within, or rather the common thoroughfare to let our affections pass in and out. Love, anger, pride, and avarice, all visibly move in those little orbs.-Spectator.

DCCCLXXXVI.

The snake each year fresh skin resumes,
And eagles change their aged plumes;
The faded rose each spring receives
A fresh red tincture on her leaves:
But if your beauties once decay,
You never know a second May.
O then be wise, and whilst your season
Affords you days for sport, do reason;
Spend not in vain your life's short hour,
But crop in time your beauty's flow'r;
Which will away, and doth together
Both bud and fade, both blow and wither.

DCCCLXXXVII.

Carew.

Ben. It's but a folly to lie: for to speak one thing, and to think just the contrary way, is, as it were, to look one way, and to row another. Now, for my part, d'ye see, I'm for carrying things above board; I'm not for keeping any thing under hatches: so, that, if you ben't as willing as I, say so, a God's name! there's no harm done. Mayhap, you may be shame-faced; some maidens, thof they love a man well enough, yet they don't care to tell'n so to's face. If that's the case, why silence gives consent.-Love for Love-Congreve.

DCCCLXXXVIII.

With that low cunning, which in fools supplies,
And amply too, the place of being wise,
Which Nature, kind indulgent parent, gave

To qualify the blockhead for a knave;

With that smooth falsehood whose appearance charms, And reason of each wholesome doubt disarms,

VOL. II.

T