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DCCV. There is nothing wanting to make all rational and disinterested people in the world of one religion, but that they should talk together every day.-Pope.

DCCVI.
An honest vicar and a kind consort,
That to the alehouse friendly would resort,
To have a game at tables now and then,
Or drink his pot as soon as any man;
As fair a gamester, and as free from brawl,
As ever man should need to play withal;
Because his hostess pledg’d him not carouse,
Rashly, in choler, did forswear her house:
Taking the glass, this was his oath he swore
“Now, by this drink, I'll ne'er come hither more.
But mightily his hostess did repent,
For all her guests to the next alehouse went,
Following the vicar’s steps in every thing,
He led the parish even by a string;
At length his ancient mistress did complain
She was undone, unless he came again;
Desiring certain friends of hers and his
To use a policy, which should be this:
Because with coming, he should not forswear him,
To save his oaths they on his backs should bear him
of this good course the vicar well did think,
And so they always carried him to drink.

Rowlands. DCCVII. There is nothing so easy as to find out which opinion the man in doubt has a mind to; therefore the sure way is to tell him, that is certainly to be chosen. Then you are to be very clear and positive; leave no handle for scruple. “Bless me! sir, there is no room for a question!” This rivets you into his heart; for you at once applaud his wisdom, and gratify his inclination.--Steele.

DCCVIII.
Let me play the fool:
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;

And let my liver rather heat with wine,
'Phan my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm withiit,
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish?

Shakspeare.

DCCIX. Titles and mottoes to books are like escutcheons and dignities in the hands of a king. The wise sometimes condescend to accept of them; but none but a fool would imagine them of any real importance. We ought to depend upon intrinsic merit, and not the slender helps of the title.-Goldsmith.

DCCX. Stoicism is a mere fancy, an imagery something like Plato's republic. The stoics feign that a man may laugh at poverty; be insensible of injuries, ingratitude, or the loss of his estate, parents and friends; look unconcernedly on death, as something which ought not to make him merry or melancholy; may master pleasure or pain; may undergo the torments of fire or sword without the least sigh or tear; and this phantom of virtue, this ideal firmness, they are pleased to style the wise man. They have left mankind in possession of all their natural defects, not one vice or foible have they exposed in its proper light. Instead of painting vice in its frightful and ridiculous forms, to inspire an avoidance of it, they have forged an idea of perfection and heroism, of which men are not capable, and exhorted them to visionary impossibilities. Thus this wise man that is to be, or will never be, but in imagination, finds himself naturally above all ills and events; the most excruciating fit of the gout, or colic, cannot extort from him the least complaint; he would stand serene and undaunted, amidst “ the wreck of matter and the crush of worlds;" he is superior to all events: whilst the mere man, agitated by every silly pas sion, cries, despairs, and throws himself into distraction, for the loss of a puppy, or the breaking a basin of China. -Bruyere.

DCCXI.
Had there been space and years enough allow'd,
His courage, wit, and breeding to have show'd,
We had not found in all the num’rous roll
of his fam’d ancestors, a greater soul:
His early virtues to that ancient stock
Gave as much honour as from thence he took.

Waller.

Epitaph on a Young Nobleman.

DCCXU. If ingratitude were to be punished by a law, it would discredit the obligation; for a benefit is to be given, not lent: and if we have no return at all, there is no just cause of complaint: for gratitude were no virtue, if there were any danger in being ungrateful.–Seneca.

DCCXIII. Such is the diligence with which, in countries completely civilized one part of mankind labour for another, that wants are supplied faster than they can be formed, and the idle and luxurious find life stagnate for want of some desire to keep it in motion. This species of distress furnishes a new set of occupations; and multitudes are busied from day to day in finding the rich and the fortunate something to do.Johnson.

DCCXIV.

A wise man poor,
Is like a sacred book that's never read,
To himself he lives, and to all else seems dead:
This age thinks better of a gilded fool,
Than of a threadbare saint in wisdom's school.

Dekker.

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LACOAXCS.

I am wise enough to know by the measure of my own abilities, that my soil is incapable of producing any of those rich flowers that are here set and growing,

and that all the fruits of my own growth are not worth any one of them.-MONTAIGNE.

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DCCXV. Be not ashamed of thy virtues: honour's a good brooch to wear in a man's hat at all times.--Ben Jonson.

DCCXVI. A just and reasonable modesty does not only recommend eloquence, but sets off every great talent which a man can be possessed of. It heightens all the virtues which it accompanies: like the shades in paintings, it raises and rounds every figure, and makes the colours more beautiful, though not so glaring as they would be without it. --Addison.

DCCXVII.
Great brains (like brightest glass) crack straight, while

those
Of stone or wood hold out, and fear not blows;
And we their ancient hoary heads can see
Whose wit was never their mortality.

Bishop Earle.
DCCXVIII.
Fame cannot
Better be held, nor more attain'd than by
A place below the first: for what miscarries
Shall be the general's fault, though he perform
To the utmost of a man.

Shakspeare.

DCCXIX. A courtier, to all men's thinking, is a man, and to most inen the finest: all things else are defined by the understanding, but this by the senses: but his surest marke is, that hee is to bee found onely about princes. Hee smells; and putteth away much of his judgement about the scituation of his clothes. Hee knowes no man that is not generally knowne. His wit, like the marigold, openeth with the sunne, and therefore he riseth not before ten of the clocke. Hee puts more confidence in his words than meaning, and more in his pronuntiation than his words. Occasion is his Cupid, and hee hath but one receipt of making loue. Hee followes nothing but inconstancie, admires nothing but beauty, honours nothing but fortune. Loues nothing. The sustenance of his discourse is newes, and his censure, like a shot, depends upon the charging. Hee is not, if he be out of court, but, fish-like, breathes destruction, if out of his owne element. Neither his motion or aspect are regular, but he mooues by the vpper spheres, and is the reflexion of higher substances. If you finde him not heere, you shall in Paules with a pick-tooth in his hat, a cape cloke, and a long stocking: -Sir T. Overbury.

DCCXX. A lady of genius will give a genteel air to her whole dress by a well-fancied suit of knots, as a judicious writer gives a spirit to a whole sentence by a single expression. As words grow old, and new ones enrich the lan.. guage, so there is a constant succession of dress; the fringe succeeds the lace, the stays shorten or extend the waist, the riband undergoes divers variations, the headdress receives frequent rises and falls every year; and in short, the whole woman throughout, as curious observers of dress have remarked, is changed from top to toe, in the period of five years.—Gay.

DCCXXI.
Cellars and granaries in vain we fill

With all the bounteous summer's store,

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