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Rowe. - Philips.

Berkeley.

257

NICHOLAS ROWE. 1673-1718.

As if Misfortune made the throne her seat,
And none could be unhappy but the great.1
The Fair Penitent. Prologue.

Is she not more than painting can express,
Or youthful poets fancy when they love?

Ibid. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Is this that haughty gallant, gay Lothario?

Ibid. Act v. Sc. 1.

JOHN PHILIPS. 1676-1708.

My galligaskins, that have long withstood
The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts,
By time subdued, (what will not time subdue !)
A horrid chasm disclosed.

The Splendid Shilling. Line 121.

BISHOP BERKELEY.

1684-1753.

Westward the course of empire takes its way;2

The four first acts already past,

A fifth shall close the drama with the day;
Time's noblest offspring is the last.

On the Prospect of Planting Arts and Learning in America.

1 Cf. Young, The Love of Fame, Satire i. Line 238.

2 Westward the star of empire takes its way.

Epigraph to Bancroft's History of the United States.

258 Bolingbroke. - Farquhar.

HENRY ST. JOHN, VISCOUNT BOLINGBROKE. 1678-1751.

I have read somewhere or other, in Dionysius of Halicarnassus, I think, that History is Philosophy teaching by examples.1

On the Study and Use of History. Letter 2.

GEORGE FARQUHAR.

1678-1707.

Cos. Pray now, what may be that same bed of honour?

Kite. Oh! a mighty large bed! bigger by half than the great bed at Ware: ten thousand people may lie in it together, and never feel one another. The Recruiting Officer. Act i. Sc. I. I believe they talked of me, for they laughed consumedly.

The Beaux' Stratagem. Act iii. Sc. 1.

'T was for the good of my country that I should be abroad.2

Ibid. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Necessity, the mother of invention.

The Twin Rivals. Act i.

1 Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Ars Rhet. xi. 2 (p. 398, R.), says: Παιδεία ἄρα ἐστὶν ἡ ἔντευξις τῶν ἠθῶν· τοῦτο καὶ Θουκυδίδης ἔοικε λέγειν, περὶ ἱστορίας λέγων· ὅτι καὶ ἱστορία φιλοσοφία ἐστὶν ἐκ παραδειγμάτων, quoting Thucydides, I. 22.

2 Cf. Barrington, p. 391.

Parnell. Brereton.

259

THOMAS PARNELL. 1679 – 1717.

Still an angel appear to each lover beside,

But still be a woman to you.

When thy beauty appears.

Remote from man, with God he passed the days, Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.

The Hermit. Line 5.

We call it only pretty Fanny's way.

An Elegy to an Old Beauty.

Let those love now who never lov'd before,
Let those who always loved now love the more.
Translation of the Pervigilium Venerisa

JANE BRERETON.

1685-1740.

The picture, placed the busts between,
Adds to the thought much strength;
Wisdom and Wit are little seen,

But Folly's at full length.

On Beau Nash's Picture at full length, between the Busts of Sir Isaac Newton and Mr. Pope.2

1 Written in the time of Julius Cæsar, and by some ascribed to Catullus:

Cras amet qui numquam amavit ;

Quique amavit, cras amet.

2 From Dyce's Specimens of British Poetesses. This epigram is generally ascribed to Chesterfield; see Campbell's Specimens, Note, p. 521.

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First, then, a woman will, or won't, depend on 't ; If she will do 't, she will; and there's an end on't. But if she won't, since safe and sound your trust is, Fear is affront, and jealousy injustice.1

Epilogue to Zara.

Tender-handed stroke a nettle,

And it stings you for your pains;

Grasp it like a man of mettle,

And it soft as silk remains.

Verses written on a Window in Scotland.

'Tis the same with common natures :
Use 'em kindly, they rebel;
But be rough as nutmeg-graters,
And the rogues obey you well.

Ibid.

SIR SAMUEL TUKE.

- 1673.

He is a fool who thinks by force or skill
To turn the current of a woman's will.

Adventures of Five Hours. Act v. Sc. 3.

1 The following lines are copied from the pillar erected on the mount in the Dane John Field, Canterbury:Examiner, May 31, 1829.

Where is the man who has the power and skill

To stem the torrent of a woman's will?

For if she will, she will, you may depend on 't;

And if she won't, she won't; so there's an end on 't.

EDWARD YOUNG. 1684-1765.

NIGHT THOUGHTS.

Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!
Night i. Line 1.
Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne,
In rayless majesty, now stretches forth
Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world.
Night i. Line 18.
Creation sleeps! 'Tis as the gen'ral pulse
Of life stood still, and nature made a pause ;
An awful pause! prophetic of her end.

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Insatiate archer! could not one suffice?

Thy shaft flew thrice and thrice my peace was

slain;

:

And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her

horn.

Night i. Line 212.

Night i. Line 390.

Be wise to-day; 't is madness to defer.1

1 Defer not till to-morrow to be wise,

To-morrow's sun to thee may never rise.

Congreve, Letter to Cobham.

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