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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 ne. 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.

CCLVI. When you have pared away all the vanity, what solid and natural contentment does there remain, which may not be liad with five hundred pounds a year?--Cowley.

CCLVIII.
Every one that flatters thee,
Is no friend in misery.
Words are easy like the wind;
Faithful friends are hard to find.
Every man will be thy friend,
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend;
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want,
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call;
And with such like flattering;
* Pity but he were a king.”

Shakspeare.

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

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son, but that he talks like nobody else: but has taken
up a method of his own, without commerce of dialogue
with other people.-Steele.

CCLX.
Great wits have only been preferred
In princes' trains to be interr'd,
And, when they cost them nothing, plac'd,
Among their followers not the last;
But while they liv'd were far enough
From all admittances kept off.

Butler.
CCLXI.
A moderate knowledge in the little rules of good-
breeding, gives a man some assurance, and makes him
easy in all companies. For want of this, I have seen a
professor of a liberal science at a loss to salute a lady:
and a most excellent mathematician not able to deter-
mine whether he should stand or sit while my lord
drank to him.-Budgell.

CCLXII. Whoever shall know himself may boldly be his own trumpeter, 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.

CCLXIII.
The greatest authors in their most serious works,
made frequent use of puns. The sermons of Bishop
Andrews, and the tragedies of Shakspeare, are full of
them. The sinner was punned into repentance by the
former, as in the latter nothing is more usual than to
see a hero weeping and quibbling for a dozen lines to-
gether.--Addison.

CCLXIV.
Those that fly may fight again,
Which he can never do that's slain.
Hence timely running's no rhean part
Of conduct, in the martial airt,

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That spares

By which some glorious feats achieves
As citizens by breaking thrive,
And cannons conquer armies while
They seem to draw off and recoil;
Is held the gallant’st course and bravest,
To great exploits, as well as safest;

th'
expence

of time and pains,
And dangʻrous beating out of brains;
And, in the end, prevails as ain
As those that never trust to fortune;
But make their fear do execution
Beyond the stoutest resolution;
As earthquakes kill without a blow,
And, only trembling, overthrow.
If th' ancients crown'd their bravest men
That only sav'd a citizen,
What victory cou'd e'er be won,
If ev'ry one would save but one?
Or fight endanger'd to be lost,
Where all resolve to save the most?
By this means when a battle's won,
The war's as far from being done;
For those that save themselves, and fly,
Go halves, at least, i' th' victory.

Butler.

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 Chacreet 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 12 furnishing the remainder with all conveniences and even superfluities, is to angels and wise men no less ridliculous; 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 fortuna, sed insidiæ; not fortune's

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