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Ode in Imitation of Horace. B. iii. Od. 2.

And virtue is her own reward.

Solomon on the Vanity of the World.

Abra was ready ere I called her name;
And though I called another, Abra came.

To the Hon. Charles Montague.

Our hopes, like tow'ring falcons, aim
At objects in an airy height:
The little pleasure of the game
Is from afar to view the flight.*

Part ii.



Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 3.

I've lately had two spiders

Crawling upon my startled hopes

Now tho' thy friendly hand has brushed 'em from me, Yet still they crawl offensive to my eyes;

I would have some kind friend to tread upon 'em.

Act iv. Sc. 3.

Off with his head! so much for Buckingham!

Act v. Sc. 3.

Richard is himself again!

* Variations in a copy printed 1692.

But all the pleasure of the game
Is afar off to view the flight.




Act i. Sc. 1.

The dawn is overcast, the morning lowers,
And heavily in clouds brings on the day,
The great, th' important day, big with the fate
Of Cato, and of Rome.

Act i. Sc. 1.

Thy steady temper, Portius,

Can look on guilt, rebellion, fraud, and Cæsar,
In the calm lights of mild philosophy.

Act i. Sc. 1.

"T is not in mortals to command success, But we'll do more, Sempronius: we'll deserve it.

Act i. Sc. 1.

'Tis pride, rank pride, and haughtiness of soul; I think the Romans call it Stoicism.

Act i. Sc. 1.

Were you with these, my prince, you'd soon forget The pale, unripened beauties of the North.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

My voice is still for war.

Gods! can a Roman Senate long debate

Which of the two to choose, slavery or death?

Act iv. Sc. 1.

The woman that deliberates is lost.

Act iv. Sc. 2.

When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway,
The post of honor is a private station.

It must be so.

Act v. Sc. 1.

Plato, thou reasonest well.

Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?

'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us;

"Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter, And intimates Eternity to man.

Act v. Sc. 1.

I'm weary of conjectures.

Act v. Sc. 1.

My death and life,

My bane and antidote, are both before me.

Act v. Sc. 1.

The soul secured in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.

Act v. Sc. 1.

The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.

The Campaign.

And, pleased th' Almighty's orders to perform,
Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm.*

* This line has been frequently ascribed to Pope, as it is found in the Dunciad, book iii. line 261.

From the Letter on Italy.

For wheresoe'er I turn my ravished eyes,
Gay gilded scenes and shining prospects rise;
Poetic fields encompass me around,

And still I seem to tread on classic ground.*


The spacious firmament on high,

With all the blue ethereal sky,

And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim.

Soon as the evening shades prevail,

The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the listening earth
Repeats the story of her birth;

While all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn

Confirm the tidings as they roll,

And spread the truth from pole to pole.

For ever singing, as they shine,

The hand that made us is divine.

* Malone states that this was the first time the phrase classic

ground, since so common, was ever used.



Imitation of Horace.

B. ii. Sat. 6.

I've often wished that I had clear,
For life, six hundred pounds a year,
A handsome house to lodge a friend,
A river at my garden's end.

Poetry, a Rhapsody.

So geographers, in Afric maps,

With savage pictures fill their gaps,
And o'er unhabitable downs

Place elephants for want of towns.

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So, naturalists observe, a flea

Has smaller fleas that on him prey;

And these have smaller still to bite 'em.
And so proceed ad infinitum.



The Mourning Bride.

Act i. Sc. 1.

Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,

To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.

By magic numbers and persuasive sound.

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