« AnkstesnisTęsti »
penfity of human nature to fancy happiness in those schemes which it does not purfue.
THE chief advantage that ancient writers can boaft over modern ones, feems owing to fimplicity. Every noble truth and sentiment was expreffed by the former in a natural manner, in word and phrase simple, perfpicuous, and incapable of improvement. What then remained for later writers, but affectation, witticism, and conceit ?
CHA P. VIII.
HAT a piece of work is man! how noble in reafon! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving how exprefs and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehenfion how like a God!
Ir to do, were as eafy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes palaces. He is a good divine who follows his own inftructions: I can eafier teach twenty what were good to be done, than to be one of the twenty to follow my own teaching.
MEN's evil manners live in brafs; their virtues we write in water.
THE web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together; our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues.
THE fenfe of death is moft in apprehenfion; And the poor beetle that we tread upon,
In corporal fufferance feels a pang as great,
How far the little candle throws his beams! So fhines a good deed in a naughty world.
LOVE all, truft a few,
Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy
The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
OUR indifcretion fometimes ferves us well,
When our deep plots do fail; and that should teach us,
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 form of things unknown, the Poet's pen
Turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing,
HEAVEN doth with us, as we with torches do,
Not light them for themselves: for if our virtues
Did not go
Both thanks and use.
WHAT ftronger breaft-plate than a heart untainted?
OH, world, thy flippery turns! Friends now faft fworn,
Whofe double bofoms feem to wear one heart, Whofe hours, whofe bed, whose meal and exercise Are still together; who twine (as 'twere) in love Infeparable; fhall within this hour,
On a diffenfion of a doit, break out
To bittereft enmity. So felleft foes,
Whofe paffions and whose plots have broke their sleep,
So it falls out,
That what we have we prize not to the worth,
The virtue that poffeffion would not shew us
COWARDS die many times before their deaths; The valiant never tafte of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
Will come, when it will come.
THERE is fome foul of goodness in things evil,
For our bad neighbour makes us early firrers:
O MOMENTARY grace of mortal men,
Ready with every nod to tumble down
WHO fhall go about
To cozen fortune, and be honourable
Without the ftamp of merit? Let none prefame.
O that estates, degrees, and offices,
Were not derived corruptly, that clear honour
How many then should cover that ftand bare!
OH, who can hold a fire in his hand,
Or wallow naked in December fnow,
Whofe edge is fharper than the fword; whofe tongue
THERE is a tide in the affairs of men,
Is bound in shallows, and in miferies.
TO-MORROW, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,