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NOBLER birth Of creatures animate with gradual life, Of growth, sense, reason, all summed up in man.
Milton. Let cavillers deny That brutes have reason; sure 'tis something more, 'Tis Heaven directs, and stratagems inspires, Beyond the short extent of human thought.
Somerville. The heart is hard in nature, and unfit For human fellowship, as being void Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike To love and friendship both, that is not pleased With sight of animals enjoying life, Nor feels their happiness augment his own.— Cowper.
Though man, as God's own miniature, reveals
Milton. ANNOYANCE. ANTIC.
The things we fear bring less annoy
What then, remains last after past annoy,
Woe to poor man! each outward thing annoys him; He heaps on inward grief what most destroys him.
Sadness cannot be;
Never came near thee.-Shelley, to the Lark.
WITHIN the hollow crown, That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Death keeps his court; and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state.
What! dares the slave Come hither covered with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?
Scrambling, outfacing, fashion-mongering boys,
Of all our antic sights and pageantry,
For even at first reflection she espies
ANTICIPATION. ANTIPATHY. ANTIQUARY.
Why should we Anticipate our sorrows? 'tis like those Who die for fear of death.
Her fancy follow'd him through foaming waves
Ask you what provocation I have had?
ANTIQUARY. ANTIQUITY. INSTRUCTED by the antiquary, time, He must, he is, he cannot but be wise.- Shakspere.
They are the Registers--the chronicles of the age They were made in, and speak the truth of history, Better than a hundred of your printed Communications.
S. Marmyon. They say he sits All day in contemplation of a statue With ne'er a nose; and dotes on the decays, With greater love than the self-loved Narcissus Did on his beauty.
A copper-plate, with almanacks
What toil did honest Curio take,
My copper lamps at any rate,
For being true antique I bought;
On modern models to be wrought;
Because they're old, because they're new. Prior.
Young. Rare are the buttons of a Roman's breeches, In antiquarian eyes surpassing riches; Rare is each cracked, black, rotten, earthen dish, That held of ancient Rome—the flesh and fish.
Dr. Wolcot. I knew Anselmo. He was shrewd and prudent, Wisdom and cunning had their share of him; But he was shrewish as a wayward child, And pleased again by toys which childhood please; As- book of fables grand with print of wood, Or else the jingling of a rusty medal, Or the rare melody of some old ditty, That first was sung to please King Pepin's cradle.
Scott. Name not those living death's-heads unto me, For these not ancient, but antique be.
ANTIQUARY. APPAREL. APATHY.
And sooner shall a galling weather spy,
A towmond gude;
Thy gown? why, ay:-come tailor let us see’t.
In lazy apathy let stoics boast