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'There's some peculiar in each leaf and grain,
Some unmark'd fibre, or some varying vein;
Shall only man be taken in the gross?
Grant but as many sorts of mind as moss.
That each from other differs, first confess;
Next that he varies from himself no less;
Add nature's, custom's, reason's, passion's, strife,
And all opinion's colours cast on life.

DXXXVIII.

Pope.

A transition from an author's book to his conversation, is too often like an entrance into a large city, after a distant prospect. Remotely we see nothing but spires of temples and turrets of palaces, and imagine it the residence of splendour, grandeur, and magnificence; but when we have passed the gates, we find it perplexed with narrow passages, disgraced with despicable cottages, embarrassed with obstructions, and clouded with smoke.-Johnson.

DXXXIX.

He who will take up another's time and fortune in his service, though he has no prospect of rewarding his merit towards him, is as unjust in his dealings as he who takes up goods of a tradesman without intention or ability to pay him.—Steele.

DXL.

The true gentleman is extracted from ancient and wor shipfull parentage. When a pepin is planted on a pepin stock, the fruit growing thence is called a renate, a most delicious apple, as both by sire and damme well descended. Thus his blood must needs be well purified who is gentilely born on both sides.-Fuller.

DXLI.

It is a fine stroke of Cervantes, when Sancho, sick of his government, makes no answer to his comforters, but aims directly at his shoes and stockings.—Shenstone.

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DXLII.

There is something of oddity in the very idea of greatness, for we are seldom astonished at a thing very much resembling ourselves.-Goldsmith.

DXLIII.

Scoffs, calumnies, and jests, are frequently the causes of melancholy. It is said that "a blow with a word, strikes deeper than a blow with a sword;" and certainly there are many men whose feelings are more galled by a calumny, a bitter jest, a libel, a pasquil, a squib, a satire, or an epigram, than by any misfortune whatsoever. -Burton.

DXLIV.

It may be remarked, for the comfort of honest poverty, that avarice reigns most in those who have but few good qualities to recommend them. This is a weed that

will grow in a barren soil.-Hughes.

DXLV.

One may observe that women in all ages have taken more pains than men to adorn the outside of their heads; and indeed I very much admire, that those female architects, who built such wonderful structures out of ribands, lace, and wire, have not been recorded for their respective inventions. It is certain there have been as many orders in these kinds of building, as in those which have been made of marble. Sometimes they rise in the shape of a pyramid, sometimes like a tower, and sometimes like a steeple.-Addison.

DXLVI.

Poets make characters, as salesmen clothes;
We take no measure of your fops and beaux;
But here all sizes and all shapes we meet,
And fit yourselves-like chaps in Monmouth-street.
Prologue to Three Hours after Marriage-Pope.

DXLVII.

As gratitude is a necessary, and a glorious, so also is it an obvious, a cheap, and an easy virtue: so obvious,

that wherever there is life there is place for it: so cheap, that the covetous man may be gratified without expense: and so easy, that the sluggard may be so likewise without labour.-Seneca.

DXLVIII.

Melibaus. Shepherd, what's love? I pray thee tell
Faustus. It is that fountain and that well
Where pleasure and repentance dwell;
It is, perhaps, that sauncing bell
That tolls all into heaven or hell-
And this is love as I heard tell.

Mel. Yet, what is love? I prithee say.
Faust. It is a work on holiday;
It is December match'd with May,
Wher lusty blood's in fresh array,
And this is love, as I hear say.

Mel. Yet, what is love? good shepherd, sain.
Faust. It is a sunshine mixt with rain;

It is a tooth-ache, or like pain;

It is a game where none doth gain;

The lass saith so, and would full fain,

And this is love, as I hear sain.

Mel. Yet, shepherd, what is love, I pray?
Faust. It is a yea, it is a nay,

A pretty kind of sporting fray,

It is a thing will soon away:

Then nymphs take 'vantage while you may,
And this is love, as I hear say.

Mel. And what is love, good shepherd, show?
Faust. A thing that creeps, it cannot go;

A prize that passes to and fro;
A thing for one, a thing for moe;
And he that proves shall find it so;

And, shepherd, this is love, I trow.

DXLIX.

Sir Walter Raleigh.

Provision is the foundation of hospitality; and thrift the fuel of magnificence.-Sir P. Sidney.

DL.

It is common to hear both sexes repine at their change, relate the happiness of their earlier years, blame the folly and rashness of their own choice, and warn those whom they see coming into the world against the same precipitance and infatuation. But it is to be remembered that the days which they so much wish to call back, are the days not only of celibacy, but of youth, the days of novelty and improvement, of ardour and of hope, of health and vigour of body, of gaiety and lightness of heart. It is not easy to surround life with any circumstances in which youth will not be delightful; and I am afraid that whether married or unmarried, we shall find the vesture of terrestrial existence more heavy and cumbrous the longer it is worn.-Steele.

DLI.

If we can sleep without dreaming, it is well that painful dreams are avoided. If, while we sleep, we can have any pleasing dreams, it is, as the French say, tant gagné, so much added to the pleasure of life.-Franklin.

DLII.

Those who propagate evil reports, frequently invent them; and it is no breach of charity to suppose this to be always the case; because no man who spreads detraction, would have scrupled to produce it; and he who should diffuse poison in a brook, would scarce be acquitted of a malicious design, though he should allege, that he received it of another who is doing the same elsewhere.-Adventurer.

DLIII.

Never hold any one by the button, or the hand, in order to be heard out; for if people are unwilling to hear you, you had better hold your tongue than them. -Chesterfield.

DLIV.

The phrase of wooden-heads is no longer paradoxical; some people fit up wooden studies, cabinet-makers become book-makers, and a man may show a parade of

.

much reading, by only the assistance of a timber-merchant; a student in the Temple may be furnished with a collection of law books cut from a whipping-post; Physical Dictionaries may be had in Jesuit's-bark; a Treatise upon Duels in touch-wood; the History of Opposition in worm-wood; Shakspeare's works in cedar, his Commentators in rotten-wood; the Reviewers in birch, and the History of England in heart of oak.-Steevens.

DLV.

I hate that man worse than poison that offers to run away, when he should fight and lay stoutly about him. Is it not better and more honourable to perish in fighting valiantly, than to live in disgrace by cowardly running away?-Rabelais.

DLVI.

Our old dramatic poet* may witness for our good ear and manly relish. Notwithstanding his natural rudeness, his unpolished style, his antiquated phrase and wit, his want of method and coherence, and his deficiency in almost all the graces and ornaments of this kind of writings; yet by the justness of the moral, the aptness of many of his descriptions, and the plain and natural turn of several of his characters, he pleases his audience, and often gains their ear, without a single bribe from luxury or vice. That piece of hist which appears to have most affected English hearts, and has perhaps been oftenest acted of any which have come upon our stage, is almost one continued moral, a series of deep reflections, drawn from one mouth upon the subject of one single accident and calamity, naturally fitted to move horror and compassion. It may be properly said of this play, if I mistake not, that it has only one character or principal part. It contains no adoration or flattery of the sex, no ranting at the gods, no blustering heroism, nor any thing of that curious mixture of the fierce and tender, which makes the hinge of modern tragedy, † Hamlet.

Shakspeare,

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