Puslapio vaizdai
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Ambition.

Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away Ambition:
By that Sin fell the Angels; how can Man then,
The Image of his Maker, hope to win it?
Love thy felf laft, 'cherish thofe Hearts that hate thee
Corruption wins not more than Honesty..

Still in thy Right-Hand carry gentle Peace
To filence envious Tongues. Be juft, and fear not.
Let all the Ends thou aim'ft at, be thy Country's,

Thy God's and Truth's; then if thou fall'ft, O Cromwel,
Thou fall'ft a blessed Martyr.

Pride cures Pride.

Pride hath no other Glass

To fhew itself, but Pride; for fupple Knces

Wol. Ibid.

Feed Arrogance, and are the proud Man's Fees.

Ulyffes. Troilus and Creffida.

Fallen Greatness.

'Tis certain, Greatness once fall'n out with Fortune, Muft fall out with Men too: what the declin'd is,

He fhall as foon read in the Eyes of others,
As feel in his own Fall.

Achilles. Ibid.,

Great Actions forgot, unless continued.

Ulyf. Time hath, my Lord, a Wallet at his Back, Wherein he puts Alms for Oblivion:

A great-fiz'd Monster of Ingratitude's ;.

Thofe fcraps are good Deeds paft.

Which are devour'd as fast as they are made,

Forgot as foon as done: Perfeverance, dear my Lord,
Keeps Honour bright: To have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty Male

In

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In monumental Mock'ry: Take the inftant way,
For Honour travels in a Streight fo narrow,
VVhere one but goes abreaft; keep then the Path,
For Emulation hath a thousand Sons,

That one by one purfue; if you give way,
Or hedge afide from the direct forth-right,
Like to an entred Tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmoft;

Or like a gallant Horfe fall'n in first Rank,
Lye there for Pavement to the abject, near
O'er-run and trampled on: Then what they do in prefent,
Tho' less than yours in paft, must o'er-top yours;
For Time is like a fashionable Hoft,

That flightly shakes his parting Guest by th' hand;
And with Arms out-ftretch'd, as he would fly,
Grafps in the Comer; the VVelcome ever fmiles,
And Farewel goes out fighing: Olet not Virtue feek
Remuneration for the thing it was; for Beauty, VVit,
High Birth, Vigour of Bone, Defert in Service,
Love, Friendship, Charity, are Subjects all
To envious and calumniating Time:

One touch of Nature makes the whole World Kin;
That all with one Confent praise new-born Gauds,
Tho' they are made and moulded of things paft,
And go to Duft, that is, a little gilt ;

More Laud than Gilt o'er-dufted,

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The prefent Eye praifes the prefent Object. lyf. Ibid.

Honour ill founded upon the People..

He that depends

Upon your Favours, fwims with Sins of Lead,

And hews down Oaks with Rufhes. Hang ye---truft ye!^ With every Minute you do change a Mind,

And call him Noble, that was now your Hate,

Hini Vile, that was your Garland. Martius. Coriolanus.

રેછે.

Against

Against Cuftom.

Cuftom calls me to't

What Custom wills in all Things, should we do't?

Coriolanus. Ibid.

On the Turns of the World.

Oh World,thy flippery Turns! Friends now fast sworn, WVhofe double Bofoms feem to wear one Heart,

VVhofe Hours, whofe Bed, whose Meal and Exercise,
Are still together; who twine (as 'twere) in Love
Uafeparable, fhall within this hour,

On a Diffention of a Doit, break out
To bittereft Enmity. So felleft Foes,

VVhose Paffions and whofe Plots have broke their Sleep
To take the one the other, by fome Chance,

Some Trick not worth an Egg, fhall grow dear Friends, And inter-join their Iffues.

VOL. VI.

Love.

Cor. Ibid.

Love is a Smoke made of the Fume of Sighs, Being purg'd, a Fire fparkling in Lovers Eyes; Being vex'd, a Sea nourish'd with loving Tears; VVhat is it else? A Madness most discreet,

A choaking Gall, and a preferving Sweet.

Rom. Romeo and Juliet.

of Dreams.

True, I talk of Dreams ;

Which are the Children of an idle Brain,
Begot of nothing but vain Phantafie,
Which is as thin of Subftance as the Air,

And

And more unconftant than the Wind; who woes
Even now the frozen Bofom of the North,
And being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his fide to the Dew-dropping South. Mer. Ib.

Beauty.

Her Beauty hangs upon the Cheek of Night,
Like a rich Jewel in an Æthiop's Ear :
Beauty too rich for ufe, for Earth too dear!
So fhews a fnowy Dove trooping with Crows,
As yonder Lady o'er her Fellows fhows.

Rom. Ib.

Defcription of an Apothecary's Shop.

I do remember an Apothecary,

And hereabouts he dwells, which late I noted
In tatter'd Weeds, with overwhelming Brows,
Culling of Simples; meager were his Looks,
Sharp Mifery had worn him to the Bones:
And in his needy Shop a Tortoife hung,
An Alligator ftuft, and other Skins
Of ill-fhap'd Fishes, and about his Shelves

A beggarly Account of empty Boxes;

Green earthen Pots, Bladders, and mufty Seeds,

Remnants of Packthread, and old Cakes of Roses,

Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a Shew.

Against violent Delights.

Thefe violent Delights have violent Ends,
And in their Triumph die like Fire and Powder,
Which as they kifs, confume. The sweetest Honey
Is loathfome in its own Deliciousness,

Ibid.

And in the Tafte confounds the Appetite. Friar. Ibid.

On

On Ceremony or Complements.

Ceremony was but devis'd at first

To fet a Glofs on faint Deeds, hollow Welcomes,
Recanting Goodness, forry ere 'tis shown:

But where there is true Friendship, there needs none.
Timon. In Timon of Athens.

The Glory of this Life.

Like Madness is the Glory of this Life,
As this Pomp fhews to a little Oyl and Root.
We make our felves Fools, to difport our felves,
And spend our Flatteries, to drink those Men,
Upon whofe Age we void it up again,
With poisonous Spight and Envy.

Who lives, that's not depraved, or depraves?
Who dies, that bears not one fpurn to their Graves
Of their Friends Gift?

Curfes of Rage.

Apemantus. ibid,

Let me look back upon thee, O thou Wall,
That girdleft in thofe Wolves, dive in the Earth,
And fence not Athens. Matrons, turn incontinent ;
Obedience fail in Children; Slaves and Fools
Pluck the grave wrinkled Senate from the Bench,
And minifter in their fleads to general Filths.
Convert o' th' inftant green Virginity,

Do't in your Parents Eyes. Bankrupts, hold faft,
Rather than render back; out with your Knives,
And cut your Trufters Throats. Bound Servants, fteal ;
Large-handed Robbers your grave Masters are,
And Pill by Law. Maid, to thy Master's Bed;
Thy Mistress is o'th' Brothel. Son of fixteen,
Pluck the lin❜d Crutch from thy old limping Sire,
With it beat out his Brains. Piety and Fear,

Religion

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