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rubbish, which no one thinks it worth his pains to rake into, much less to remove.

Honour is but a fictitious kind of honesty ; a mean but a necessary substitute for it, in societies who have none; it is a sort of paper credit, with which men are obliged to trade, who are deficient in the sterling cash of true morality and religion.

Persons of great delicacy should know the certainty of the following truth: there are abundance of cases which occasion suspense, in which whatever they determine, they will repent of the determination; and this through a propensity of human nature to fancy happiness in those schemes which it does not pursue.

The chief advantage that ancient writers can boast over modern ones seems owing to simplicity. Every noble truth and sentiment was expressed by the former in a natural manner, in word and phrase simple, perspicuous, and incapable of improvement. What then remained for later writers, but affectation, witticism, and conceit ?

CHA P. VIII.

WHAT a piece of work is man! how noble

in reason! 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 prince's palaces. He is a good divine who follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done,

than 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 apprehension; And the poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance, feels a pang as great As when a giant dies.

How far the little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. -Love all, trust a few,

Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than in use: keep thy friend Under thine own life's key: be check'd for silence But never task'd for speech.

The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherits shall dissolve ; And, like the baseless fabric of a vision Leave not a wreck behind! we are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.

Our indiscretion sometimes 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 phrenzy 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
Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike
As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely
touch'd,

But to fine issues: nor Nature never lends
The smallest scruple of her excellence
But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines
Herself the glory of a creditor,

Both thanks and use.

What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted?

Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just : And he but naked (though Tock'd up in steel) Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

CHA P. I X.

On, world, thy slippery turns! Friends now

fast sworn,

Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart, Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal, and

exercise

Are still together; who twine, as 'twere, in love
Inseparable; shall within this hour,

On a dissension of a doit, break out
To bitterest enmity. So fellest foes

Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep,

To take the one the other, by some chance, Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear

friends, And interjoin their issues.

So it falls out,

That what we have we prize not to the worth, While we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost Why then we wreak the value; then we find

The virtue that possession would not shew us Whilst it was ours.

9

Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard It seems to me most strange that men should fear: Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come, when it will come.

There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distil it out, For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers ; Which is both healthful and good husbandry: Besides they are our outward consciences 1 And preachers to us all; admonishing, That we should dress us fairly for our end.

O momentary grace of mortal men," Which we more hunt for than the grace of God! Who builds his hope in th' air of men's fair looks, Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, Ready with every nod to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep.

-Who shall go about

To cozen Fortune, and be honourable
Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume
To wear an undeserved dignity.

O that estates, degrees and offices

Were not deriv'd corruptly! that clear honour
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover that stand bare !
How many be commanded, that command!

Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus :
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
By bare imagination of a feast?

Or wallow naked in December's snow
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
Oh, no! the apprehension of the good
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse;

Fell Sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more, Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. 'Tis Slander ;

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 vip'rous Slander enters.

There is a tide in the affairs of men 9 Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

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To-morrow, and to-morrow and to-morrow Creeps in this petty space from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusky death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more! It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing.

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