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Have paid scot and lot there any time this eighteen.
Every Man in his Humour. Act ii. Sc. 3.

years.
It must be done like lightning.

Act iv. Sc. v.

There shall no love lost.1

Every Man out of his Humour. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast.2

Epicone; Or, the Silent Woman. Act i. Sc. 1.

Give me a look, give me a face,
That makes simplicity a grace;
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free,
Such sweet neglect more taketh me
Than all the adulteries of art:
They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.

That old bald cheater, Time.

The world knows only two, that's Rome and I.

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Courses even with the sun
Doth her mighty brother run.
Underneath this stone doth lie
As much beauty as could die;
Which in life did harbour give
To more virtue than doth live.

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The Poetaster. Acti. Sc. 1.

Preserving the sweetness of proportion and expressing itself beyond expression. The Masque of Hymen.

Ibid.

Sejanus. Act v. Sc. 1.

Epitaph on Elizabeth, Countess of Rutland.

Whilst that for which all virtue now is sold,
And almost every vice, almighty gold.

The Gipsies Metamorphosed.

Epistle to Elizabeth L. H.

1 There is no love lost between us. CERVANTES: Don Quixote, part ii. chap. xxxiii.

2 A translation from Bonnefonius.

8 The flattering, mighty, nay, almighty gold. WOLCOT: To Kien Long, Ode iv.

Almighty dollar. - IRVING: The Creole Village.

-

;

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.1
Soul of the age,

The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage,
My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
A little further, to make thee a room.2

Small Latin, and less Greek.

He was not of an age, but for all time.

Sweet swan of Avon!

To the Memory of Shakespeare.

Marlowe's mighty line.

For a good poet's made as well as born.

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The Forest. To Celia.

...

2 Renowned Spenser, lie a thought more nigh
To learned Chaucer, and rare Beaumont lie

Ibid.

A little nearer Spenser, to make room

For Shakespeare in your threefold, fourfold tomb.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke.3

Ibid.

1 Ἐμοὶ δὲ μόνοις πρέπινε τοῖς ὄμμασιν. Εἰ δὲ βούλει, τοῖς χείλεσι προσφέρουσα, πλήρου φιλημάτων τὸ ἔκπωμα, καὶ οὕτως δίδου

(Drink to me with your eyes alone... And if you will, take the cup to your lips and fill it with kisses, and give it so to me).

PHILOSTRATUS: Letter xxiv.

Ibid.

BASSE: On Shakespeare.

8 This epitaph is generally ascribed to Ben Jonson. It appears in the editions of his Works; but in a manuscript collection of Browne's poems preserved amongst the Lansdowne MS. No. 777, in the British Museum, it is ascribed to Browne, and awarded to him by Sir Egerton Brydges in his edition of Browne's poems.

Let those that merely talk and never think,
That live in the wild anarchy of drink.1

Underwoods. An Epistle, answering to One that asked to be sealed of the Tribe of Ben.

Still may syllables jar with time,
Still may reason war with rhyme,
Resting ever!

Ibid. Fit of Rhyme against Rhyme.

Ibid.

In small proportion we just beauties see,
And in short measures life may perfect be.
To the immortal Memory of Sir Lucius Cary
and Sir Henry Morison. III.
What gentle ghost, besprent with April dew,
Hails me so solemnly to yonder yew? 2

Elegy on the Lady Jane Pawlet.

JOHN WEBSTER.

-1638.

I know death hath ten thousand several doors
For men to take their exit.3 Duchess of Malfi. Act iv. Sc 2.

'Tis just like a summer bird-cage in a garden, the birds that are without despair to get in, and the birds that are within despair and are in a consumption for fear they shall never get out.*

The White Devil. Act i. Sc. 2.

Condemn you me for that the duke did love me?
So may you blame some fair and crystal river
For that some melancholic, distracted man
Hath drown'd himself in 't.

1 They never taste who always drink ;
They always talk who never think.

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Act iii. Sc. 2.

PRIOR: Upon a passage in the Scaligerana.

2 What beckoning ghost along the moonlight shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?

POPE: To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. 3 Death hath so many doors to let out life. - BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER :

The Customs of the Country, act ii. sc. 2. 4 See Davies, page 176.

Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright,
But look'd too near have neither heat nor light.1
The White Devil. Act iv. Sc. 4.

Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren,
Since o'er shady groves they hover,

And with leaves and flowers do cover
The friendless bodies of unburied men.

Act r. Sc. 2.

Is not old wine wholesomest, old pippins toothsomest, old wood burns brightest, old linen wash whitest? Old soldiers, sweetheart, are surest, and old lovers are soundest.2

Westward Hoe. Act ii. Sc. 2.

I saw him now going the way of all flesh.

Ibid.

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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.

Old Fortunatus.

And though mine arm should conquer twenty worlds,
There's a lean fellow beats all conquerors.

2 See Bacon, page 171.

1 The mountains, too, at a distance appear airy masses and smooth, but when beheld close they are rough. - DIOGENES LAERTIUS: Pyrrho. Love is like a landscape which doth stand Smooth at a distance, rough at hand.

As distant prospects please us, but when near
We find but desert rocks and fleeting air.

ROBERT HEGGE: On Love.
We're charm'd with distant views of happiness,
But near approaches make the prospect less.
YALDEN Against Enjoyment.

Ibid.

'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.

GARTH: The Dispensatory, canto iii. line 27.

CAMPBELL: Pleasures of Hope, part i. line 7.

The best of men

That e'er wore earth about him was a sufferer;
A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit,
The first true gentleman that ever breathed.1
The Honest Whore. Part i. Act i. Sc. 12.
I was ne'er so thrummed since I was a gentleman.2
Act iv. Sc. 2.

This principle is old, but true as fate, -
Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate.
We are ne'er like angels till our passion dies.

Part ii. Act i. Sc. 2.
Act ii. Sc. 1.

Turn over a new leaf.4

To add to golden numbers golden numbers.
Honest labour bears a lovely face.

Sc. 4.

Patient Grissell. Act i. Sc. 1.
Ibid.

BISHOP HALL.

1574-1656.

Moderation is the silken string running through the pearl chain of all virtues. Christian Moderation. Introduction.

Death borders upon our birth, and our cradle stands in the grave.5 Epistles. Dec. iii. Ep. 2. There is many a rich stone laid up in the bowels of the earth, many a fair pearl laid up in the bosom of the sea, that never was seen, nor never shall be."

Contemplations. Book ir. The veil of Moses.

1 Of the offspring of the gentilman Jafeth come Habraham, Moyses, Aron, and the profettys; also the Kyng of the right lyne of Mary, of whom that gentilman Jhesus was borne. - JULIANA BERNERS: Heraldic Blazonry.

2 See Shakespeare, page 78.

3 Cæsar said he loved the treason, but hated the traitor. - PLUTARCH: Life of Romulus.

4 See Middleton, page 174.

5 And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb.
Our birth is nothing but our death begun.

YOUNG: Night Thoughts, night v. line 718.

6 Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear.

GRAY: Elegy, stanza 14.

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