By which some glorious feats achieve,
As citizens by breaking thrive,
And cannons conquer armies while
They seem to draw off and recoil;
Is held the gallant'st course and bravest,
To great exploits, as well as safest;
That spares th' expence of time and pains,
And dang'rous beating out of brains;
And, in the end, prevails as certain
As those that never trust to fortune;
But make their fear do execution
Beyond the stoutest resolution;
As earthquakes kill without a blow,
And, only trembling, overthrow.

If th' ancients crown'd their bravest men
That only sav'd a citizen,

What victory cou'd e'er be won,
If ev'ry one would save but one?
Or fight endanger'd to be lost,
Where all resolve to save the most?
By this means when a battle's won,
The war's as far from being done;
For those that save themselves, and fly,
Go halves, at least, i' th' victory.

CCLXV.

Butler.

If you should see a man, who were to cross from Dover to Calais, run about very busy and solicitous, and trouble himself many weeks before in making provisions for his voyage, would you commend him for a cautious and discreet person, or laugh at him for a timorous and impertinent coxcomb? A man, who is excessive in his pains and diligence, and who consumes the greatest part of his time in furnishing the remainder with all conveniences and even superfluities, is to angels and wise men no less ridiculous; he does as little consider the shortness of his passage, that he might proportion his cares accordingly. It is, alas! so narrow a strait betwixt the womb and the grave, that it might be called

the Pas de Vie, as well as that the Pas de Calais.Cowley.

CCLXVI.

Surely that preaching which comes from the soul, most works on the soul. Some have questioned ventriloquism, when men speak strangely out of their bellies, whether it can be done lawfully or no: might I coin the word cordiloquie, when men draw the doctrines out of their hearts, sure all would count this lawful and commendable.-Fuller.

CCLXVII.

We may

In matters of learning and philosophy, the practice of pulling down is far pleasanter, and affords more enter tainment, than that of building and setting up. Many have succeeded to a miracle, in the first, who have mi serably failed in the latter of these attempts. find a thousand engineers, who can sap, undermine, and blow up, with admirable dexterity for one single one, who can build a fort, or lay the platform of a citadel. And though compassion in real war may make the ruinous practice less delightful, 'tis certain that in the literate warring world, the springing of mines, the blowing up of towers, bastions, and ramparts of philosophy, with systems, hypotheses, opinions, and doctrines, into the air, is a spectacle of all other the most naturally rcjoicing-Shaftesbury.

CCLXVIII.

The common humour of all gamesters is, whilst they win, to be always jovial, merry, good-natured, and free; but, on the contrary, if they lose even the smallest trifle, a single hit at backgammon, or a dealing at cards for twopence a game, they are so choleric and testy, that they frequently break into violent passions, utter the most impious oaths, and horrid imprecations, and become so mad that no man dare to speak to them. But, alas! they have in general, especially if their stakes be large and excessive, more occasion to regret their winning than losing; for, as Seneca truly observes, their gains are not munera fortuna, sed insidiæ; not fortune's

gifts, but misfortune's baits to lead them on to their common catastrophe, beggary and ruin.-Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy.

CCLXIX.

It is very wonderful to see persons of the best sense passing away a dozen hours together in shuffling and dividing a pack of cards, with no other conversation but what is made up of a few game phrases, and no other ideas but those of black or red spots ranged together in different figures. Would not a man laugh to hear any one of his species complaining that life is short?-Spec

tator.

CCLXX.

A liar begins with making falsehood appear like truth and ends with making truth itself appear like falsehood. -Shenstone.

CCLXXI.

Tho' wit never can be learn'd,

It may b' assum'd, and own'd, and earn'd,
And, like our noblest fruits, improv'd,

By b'ing transplanted and remov'd;

And as it bears no certain rate,

Nor pays one penny to the state,

With which it turns no more t' account
Than virtue, faith, and merit's wont,
Is neither moveable, nor rent,
Nor chattel, goods, nor tenement,
Nor was it ever pass'd b' entail,
Nor settled upon the heirs-male;
Or if it were, like ill-got land,
Did never fall to a second-hand;
So 't is no more to be engross'd,
Than sunshine or the air enclos'd.

CCLXXII.

Butler.

A "smart fellow" is always an appellation of praise, and is a man of double capacity. The true cast or mould in which you may be sure to know him is, when his livelihood or education is in the civil list, and you see him

express a vivacity or mettle above the way he is in by a little jerk in his motion, short trip in his steps, wellfancied lining of his coat, or any other indications which may be given in a vigorous dress. Now, what possible insinuation can there be, that it is a cause of quarrel for a man to say, he allows a gentleman really to be what his tailor, his hosier, and his milliner, have conspired to make him! I confess, if any person who appealed to me had said, he was "not a smart fellow," there had been cause for resentment; but if he stands to it that he is one, he leaves no manner of ground for misunderstanding. Indeed it is a most lamentable thing, that there should be a dispute raised upon a man's saying another is what he plainly takes pains to be thought.-Steele.

CCLXXIII.

An epigrammatist is a poet of small wares, whose muse is short-winded, and quickly out of breath. She flies like a goose, that is no sooner upon the wing, but down again. He was originally one of those authors that used to write upon white walls, from whence his works being collected and put together, pass in the world, like single money among those who deal in small matters. His wit is like fire in a flint, that is nothing while it is in, and nothing again as soon as it is out.

He is a kind of vagabond writer, that is never out of his way; for nothing is beside the purpose with him, that proposes none at all. His works are like a running banquet, that have much variety but little of a sort; for he deals in nothing but scraps and parcels, like a tailor's broker.-Butler.

CCLXXIV.

There are no persons more solicitous about the preservation of rank, than those who have no rank at all. Observe the humours of a country christening, and you will find no court in Christendom so ceremonious as the quality of Brentford.-Shenstone.

CCLXXV.

Wine is frequently the sole cause of melancholy, especially if it be immoderately used; and Guianerius relates a story of two Dutchmen, whom he entertained in his own house, who drank so much wine, that in the short space of a month, they both became so melancholy, that the one could do nothing but sing, and the other sigh. A cup of generous wine, however, to those whose minds are still or motionless, is, in my opinion, excellent physic.-Burton.

CCLXXVI.

In this enlightened age, I am bold enough to confess, that we are generally men of untaught feelings; that instead of casting away all our old prejudices, we cherish them to a very considerable degree, and, to take more shame to ourselves, we cherish them because they are prejudices; and the longer they have lasted, and the more generally they have prevailed, the more we cherish them. We are afraid to put men to live and trade each on his own private stock of reason; because we suspect that this stock in each man is small, and that the individuals would do better to avail themselves of the general bank and capital of nations and of ages.— Burke.

CCLXXVII.

A man who publishes his works in a volume, has an infinite advantage over one who communicates his writings to the world in loose tracts and single pieces. We do not expect to meet with any thing in a bulky volume, till after some heavy preamble, and several words of course, to prepare the reader for what follows. Nay, authors have established it as a kind of rule, that a man ought to be dull sometimes; as the most severe reader makes allowances for many rests and nodding-places in a voluminous writer. This gave occasion to the famous Greek proverb, that "a great book is a great evil.”— Addison.