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pensity of human nature to fancy happiness in those schemes which it does not pursue.
The chief advantage that ancient writers can boaft over modern ones, seems owing to fimplicity. Every noble truth and sentiment was expressed by the former in a natural manner, in word and phrase fimple, perfpicuous, and incapable of improvement. What then remained for later writers, but affectation, witticism, and conceit?
HAT a piece of work is man! how noble in rea
fon ! how infinite in faculties ! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel ! in apprehension how like a God!
If to do, were as easy 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 instructions : 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 brass ; 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 sense of death is most 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 shines a good deed in a naughty world.
-Love all, trust a few,
The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
Our indiscretion fometimes serves us well, When our deep plots do fail; and that should teach us, There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.
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, A local habitation and a name.
Heaven doth with us, as we with torches do,
Not light them for themselves : for if our virtues
What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted?
OH, world, thy sippery turns ! Friends now faft sworn,
Whofe double bofoms seem to wear one heart,
dear friends, And interjoin their issues.
So it falls out,
The virtue that possession would not shew us
times before their deaths;
There is fome foul of goodness in things evil,
O MOMENTARY grace of mortal men,
How How many
then should cover that stand bare! How many be commanded, that command !
OH; who can hold a fire in his hand;
Tis flander; Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world. Kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons, nay the secrets of the grave, This viperous flander enters.
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
TO-MORROW, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,