Imatges de pÓgina
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The life of life, that to the banquet high
And sober meal gives taste; to the bow'd roof
Fair-dream'd repose, and to the cottage charms.


Thomson's Liberty.

I praise you much, ye meek and patient pair,
For ye are worthy; chusing rather for
A dry but independent crust, hard earn'd
And eaten with a sigh, than to endure
The rugged frowns and insolent rebuffs
Of knaves in office.

Cowper's Task, b. 4


Had she not fallen thus, Oh! ten thousand worlds Could ne'er have balanced her; for Heaven is in her, And joys which I must never dream of more.

Lee's Casar Borgia.

I can forgive

A foe, but not a mistress, and a friend :
Treason is there in its most horrid shape,
Where trust is greatest! and the soul resign'd,

Is stabb'd by her own guards.

Dryden's All for Love.

Fatally fair they are, and in their smiles

The graces, little loves, and young desires inhabit;
But all that gaze upon 'em are undone ;

For they are false, luxurious in their appetites,
And all the Heav'n they hope for is variety.

Rowe's Fair Penitent, a. 1, s. 1.

Are these the pleasures of unlawful love?
Are these the promis'd joys, so ill exchang'd
For those that innocence alone can give?
How strong is the delusion of our fancy,
That with false colours dresses up a dream

Of empty joys and visionary bliss! Frowde's Philotas.

O gilded curse! More fair than rosy morn when first she smiles O'er the dew-brighten'd verdure of the spring! But more deceitful, tyrannous, and fell, Than syrens, tempests, and devouring flames! Smollett's Regicide.

Who robs me of my wealth,
May one day have ability, or will

To yield the full repayment-but the villain
That doth invade a husband's right in bed,
Is murd'rer of his peace, and makes a breach
In his life's after-quiet, that the grief

Of penitence itself cannot repair.

Hawkins's Cymbeline.

Thou tremblest least I curse thee, tremble not—
Though thou hast made me, woman, very wretched,
Thou, thou hast made me-but I will not curse thee-
Hear the last prayer of Bertram's broken heart,
That heart which thou hast broken, not his foes!-
Of thy rank wishes the full scope be on thee—
May pomp and pride shout in thine addered path,
Till thou shalt feel and sicken at their hollowness-
May he thou'st wed, be kind and generous to thee,
Till thy wrung heart, stabb'd by his noble fondness,
Writhe in detesting consciousness of falsehood-
May thy babe's smile speak daggers to that mother
Who cannot love the father of her child,
And in the bright blaze of the festal hall,
When vassals kneel, and kindred smile around thee,
May ruined Bertram's pledge hiss in thine ear-
Joy to the proud dame of St. Aldobrand—

While his cold corse doth bleach beneath her towers.

Maturin's Bertram, a. 2, s. 3.

In want, and war, and peril,

Things that would thrill the hearer's blood to tell of,

My heart grew human when I thought of thee-
Imagine would have shuddered for my danger-
Imogine would have bound my leechless wounds-
Imogine would have sought my nameless corse—
And known it well--and she was wedded-wedded-
-Was there no name in hell's dark catalogue
To brand thee with, but mine immortal foe's?
And did I 'scape from war, and want, and famine,
To perish by the falsehood of a woman
Maturin's Bertram, a. 2, s. 3.


A despot's vengeance, a false country's curses,
The spurn of menials whom this hand hath fed→
In my heart's steeled pride I shook them off,
As the bayed lion from his hurtless hide

Shakes his pursuers' darts-across their path

One dart alone took aim, thy hand did barb it. Ibid.

O wretched is the dame, to whom the sound "Your lord will soon return," no pleasure brings.

Another daughter dries a father's tears;
Another sister claims a brother's love;
An injured husband hath no other wife,
Save her who wrought him shame.


Ibid. a. 4. s. 2.

Thou must live amid a hissing world,

A thing that mothers warn their daughters from,
A thing the menials that do tend thee scorn,

Whom when the good do name, they tell their beads,
And when the wicked think of, they do triumph;
Canst thou encounter this?

Three things a wise man will not trust, The wind, the sunshine of an April day, And woman's plighted faith. I have beheld The weathercock upon the steeple point Steady from morn till eve, and I have seen



The bees go forth upon an April morn,

Secure the sunshine will not end in showers;
But when was woman true?


Southey's Madoc.

I served thee fifteen hard campaigns, And pitched thy standard in these foreign fields; By me thy greatness grew; thy years grew with it; But thy ingratitude out-grew them both.

Dryden's Don Sebastian.

I could stand upright

Against the tyranny of age and fortune;
But the sad weight of such ingratitude
Will crush me into earth.

Denham's Sophy.

He that's ungrateful, has no guilt but one;
All other crimes may pass for virtues in him.

Young's Busiris, a. 2.

The wretch whom gratitude once fails to bind,
To truth or honour let him lay no claim;
But stand confess'd the brute disguis'd in man.

Frowde's Philotas.

All should unite to punish the ungrateful :
Ingratitude is treason to mankind.

Thomson's Coriolanus, a. 1, s. 4.

If there be a crime

Of deeper dye than all the guilty train

Of human vices, 'tis ingratitude.

Brooke's Earl of Warwick,


My innocence

Shall stand triumphant, and your

malice serve

But for a trumpet, to proclaim my conquest;

Nor shall you, though you do the worst fate can,
Triumph o'er him whom innocence protects.

Massinger and Field's Fatal Dowry.

There is no courage, but in innocence;

No constancy, but in an honest cause.

Southern's Fate of Capua.

I am arm'd with innocence,

Less penetrable than the steel-ribb'd coats

That harness round thy warriors.

Madden's Themistocles.

Against the head which innocence secures,
Insidious malice aims her darts in vain ;

Turn'd backwards by the pow'rful breath of heav'n.

Dr. Johnson's Irene.

So pray'd they innocent, and to their thoughts
Firm peace recover'd soon and wonted calm.

Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 5.

Only add

Deeds to thy knowledge answerable, add faith,
Add virtue, patience, temperance, add love,
By name to come call'd charity, the soul
Of all the rest: then wilt thou not be loath
To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess
A Paradise within thee, happier far.


Ibid, b. 12.

Th' invention all admir'd, and each, how he
To be th' inventor miss'd; so easy it seem'd,
Once found, which yet unfound most would have


Ibid. b. 6.

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