The glass remov'd, would each himself survey,
And in just scales his strength and weakness weigh,
Pursue the path for which he was design'd,
And to his proper force adapt his mind,
Scarce one but to some merit might pretend,
Perhaps might please, at least would not offend.

MCCCXIII.

Love's a mighty lord,

And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,
There is no woe to his correction,

Nor to his service, no such joy on earth!

Now, no discourse, except it be of love;

Congreve.

Now can I break my fast, dline, sup, and sleep,
Upon the very naked name of love.

MCCCXIV.

Shakspeare.

I think you ought to be well informed how much your husband's revenue amounts to, and be so good a computer as to keep within it that part of the management which falls to your share, and not to put yourself in the number of those politic ladies, who think they gain a great point when they have teazed their husbands to buy them a new equipage, a laced head, or a fine petticoat, without once considering what long score remained unpaid to the butcher.—Swift's Letter to a Young Lady.

MCCCXV.

Nor are we ignorant how noble minds

Suffer too much through those indignities

Which times and vicious persons cast on them.
Ourself have ever vowed to esteem

As virtue for itself, so fortune, base;

Who's first in worth, the same be first in place.

HH

Ben Jonson

MCCCXVI.

Nat Lee's thoughts are wonderfully suited for tragedy, but frequently lost in such a crowd of words, that it is hard to see the beauty of them. There is infinite fire in nis works, but so involved in smoke, that it does not appear in half its lustre.-Addison.

MCCCXVII.

He cannot be a perfect man,

Not being tried, and tutor'd in the world.
Experience is by industry atchieved,

And perfected by the swift course of time.

MCCCXVIII.

Shakspeare.

It is dangerous for mortal beauty, or terrestrial virtue, to be examined by too strong a light. The torch of truth shews much that we cannot, and all that we would not see. In a face dimpled with smiles, it has often discovered malevolence and envy, and detected under jewels and brocade the frightful forms of poverty and distress. A fine hand of cards have changed before it into a thousand spectres of sickness, misery, and vexation; and immense sums of money, while the winner counted them with transport, have at the first glimpse of this unwelcome lustre vanished from before him. Mulso.

MCCCXIX.

He strikes no coin, 'tis true, but coins new phrases, And vends them forth as knaves vend gilded counters, Which wise men scorn, and fools accept in payment. Old Play.

MCCCXX.

O you gods! what a number

Of men eat Timon, and he sees them not!
It grieves me, to see so many dip their meat
In one man's blood; and all the madness is,
He cheers them up too.

I wonder, men dare trust themselves with men :

Methinks they should invite them without knives;
Good for their meat, and safer for their lives.
There's much example for't; the fellow, that
Sits next him now, parts bread with him, and pledges
The breath of him in undivided draught,

Is the readiest man to kill him: It has been proved.
If I

Were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals;
Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous notes :
Great men should drink with harness on their throats.
Timon of Athens-Shakspeare.
MCCCXXI.

The study of truth is perpetually joined with the love of virtue; for there's no virtue which derives not its original from truth; as, on the contrary, there is no vice which has not its beginning from a lie. Truth is the foundation of all knowledge, and the cement of all societies. Casaubon.

Our cider and perry

MCCCXXII.

May make a man mad, but not merry;
It makes people windmill-pated,
And with crackers sophisticated;
And your hops, yeast and malt,
When they're mingled together,
Makes our fancies to halt

Or reel any whither.

It stuffs up our brains with froth and with yeast,

That if one would write but a verse for a bellman, He must study till Christmas for an eight shilling jest, These liquors won't raise, but drown and o'erwhelm On Canary-Brome.

man.

MCLCXXIII.

Fear guides more to their duty than gratitude for one

man who is virtuous from the love of virtue, from the obligation which he thinks he lies under to the Giver of all, there are ten thousand who are good only from their apprehensions of punishment.- Goldsmith.

MCCCXXIV.

Well the learn'd and the judicious know,
That satire scorns to stoop so'meanly low,
As any one abstracted fop to show.

For, as when painters form a matchless face,

They from each fair one catch some diff'rent grace;
And shining features in one portrait blend,

To which no single beauty must pretend.
So poets oft do in one piece expose

Whole belles assemblees of coquets and beaux.

Epilogue to the Way of the World. - Congreve.
MCCCXXV.

What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form, and moving, how express and admirable! In action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?-Shakspeare.

MCCCXXVI.

Give me a look, give me a face,

That makes simplicity a grace;

Robes loosely flowing, hair as free:
Such sweet neglect more taketh me,
Than all the adulteries of art;

They strike mine eyes, but not mine heart.

Ben Jonson,