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HEROIC virtue did his actions guide,
Appearances to save, his only care;
APPETITE. READ over this, and after this—and then To breakfast with what appetite you have.—Shakspere.
Why should she hang on him,
Sylla wept, And chid her barking waves into attention; And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause.—Milton. Kings fight for empire, madmen for applause.
I have no taste
ARBITRATION-ARBITRATOR. This might have been prevented, and made whole, With very easy arguments of love, Which now the manage of two kingdoms met With fearful bloody issue arbitrate.
Shakspere. But now the arbitrator of despair, Just death, kind umpire of men’s miseries, With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence.
Shakspere. The end crowns all, And that old common arbitrator, time, Will one day end it.
Though heaven be shut,
Milton. For noonday's heat are closer arbours made, And for fresh evening air the opener glade.-Dryden.
THE nations of the field and wood Build on the wave, or arch beneath the sand.-Pope. Load some vain church with old theatric state, Turn arcs of triumph to a garden gate; Reverse your ornaments, and hang them all On some patched dog-hole eked with ends of wall.
Or call the winds through long arcades to roar,
Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch
Gates of monarchs Are arched so high, that giants may get through.
His form had yet not lost
THE hasty multitude
Blackmore. Westward a pompous frontispiece appeared, On Doric pillars of white marble reared, Crowned with an architrave of antique mould, And sculpture rising on the roughened gold. Pope.
ARGOSY. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; There where your argosies with portly sail, Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, Or as it were the pageants of the sea, Do overpeer the petty traffickers. Shakspere. Look, where yon argosy, which late did set
Forth in the sunshine, with a favouring breeze, Now, in the darkness, by rude rocks beset,
Drives here and there upon the roaring seas: Thus are man's ventures; ever thus shall be, Full often wrecked his hopes, like stately argosy!
H. G. A.
Our idle words, servants to shallow fools;
Unprofitable sounds, weak arbitrators! Busy yourselves in skill-contending schools;
Debate, where leisure serves, with dull debaters,
To trembling clients be your mediators: For me I fear not arguments a straw, Since that my case is past the help of law.--Shakspere. But all's not true that supposition saith, Nor have the mightiest arguments most faith.
Sad task! yet argument
For arguments, like children, should be like