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When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff, He shifted his trumpet and only took snuff.

Retaliation. Line 145.

The best-humour'd man, with the worst-humour'd Muse.1

Good people all, with one accord,

Lament for Madam Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word
From those who spoke her praise.

Postscript.

Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize.

The king himself has followed her
When she has walk'd before.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad

When he put on his clothes.

Ibid.

Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog.

And in that town a dog was found,

Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,

As many dogs there be,

And curs of low degree.

Ibid.

The dog, to gain his private ends,

Ibid.

Went mad, and bit the man.

The man recovered of the bite,

The dog it was that died.3

1 See Rochester, page 279.

Ibid.

2 Written in imitation of "Chanson sur le fameux La Palisse," which is attributed to Bernard de la Monnoye :

On dit que dans ses amours

Il fut caressé des belles,

Qui le suivirent toujours,

Tant qu'il marcha devant elles

(They say that in his love affairs he was petted by beauties, who always fol lowed him as long as he walked before them).

8 While Fell was reposing himself in the hay,

A reptile concealed bit his leg as he lay;

But, all venom himself, of the wound he made light,

And got well, while the scorpion died of the bite.

LESSING: Paraphrase of a Greek Epigram by Demodocus.

A night-çap deck'd his brows instead of bay,—
A cap by night, a stocking all the day.

1

Description of an Author's Bed-chamber.

This same philosophy is a good horse in the stable, but an arrant jade on a journey.2 The Good-Natured Man. Act i. All his faults are such that one loves him still the better for them.

Silence gives consent.3

Measures, not men, have always been my mark."

Act i.

Act ii.

Ibid.

I love everything that's old: old friends, old times, manners, old books, old wine."5

ld

The very pink of perfection.

She Stoops to Conquer. Act i.

Ibid.

The genteel thing is the genteel thing any time, if as be that a gentleman bees in a concatenation accordingly.

I'll be with you in the squeezing of a lemon.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Act iii.

Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no fibs. We sometimes had those little rubs which Providence sends to enhance the value of its favours.

Vicar of Wakefield. Chap. i.

Handsome is that handsome does.

Ibid.

The premises being thus settled, I proceed to observe that the concatenation of self-existence, proceeding in a reciprocal duplicate ratio, naturally produces a problematical dialogism, which in some measure proves that the

1 See page 397.

2 Philosophy triumphs easily over past evils and future evils, but present evils triumph over it. - ROCHEFOUCAULD: Maxim 22.

3 RAY: Proverbs. FULLER: Wise Sentences. Αὐτὸ δὲ τὸ σιγἂν ὁμολοyourros éari Gov. -EURIPIDES: Iph. Aul., 1142.

4 Measures, not men. — ·CHESTERFIELD: Letter, Mar. 6, 1742. Not men, but measures.

BURKE Present Discontents.

See Bacon, page 171,

6 See Chaucer, page 4.

essence of spirituality may be referred to the second predicable. Vicar of Wakefield. Chap. vii.

I find you want me to furnish you with argument and

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By the living jingo, she was all of a muck of sweat.

Chap. iz.

They would talk of nothing but high life, and high-lived company, with other fashionable topics, such as pictures, taste, Shakespeare, and the musical glasses.

Ibid.

It has been a thousand times observed, and I must ›bserve it once more, that the hours we pass with happy prospects in view are more pleasing than those crowned with fruition.8

4

Chap. z.

To what happy accident is it that we owe so unexpected a visit?

1 See Burton, page 185.

Chap. ziz.

2 See Young, page 308.

An object in possession seldom retains the same charm that it had in pursuit. PLINY THE YOUNGER: Letters, book ii. letter xv. 1. 4 See Middleton, page 174.

When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy?
What art can wash her guilt away?

The Hermit. On Woman. Chap. xxiv.

The only art her guilt to cover,

To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,

And wring his bosom, is to die.

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Ibid.

To what fortuitous occurrence do we not owe every pleasure and convenience of our lives.

For he who fights and runs away
May live to fight another day;
But he who is in battle slain

Can never rise and fight again.1

Ibid. Chap. xxi.

The Art of Poetry on a New Plan (1761). Vol. ii. p. 147.

One writer, for instance, excels at a plan or a titlepage, another works away the body of the book, and a

third is a dab at an index.2

The Bee. No. 1, Oct. 6, 1759.

The true use of speech is not so much to express our wants as to conceal them.3

No. iii. Oct. 20, 1759.

THOMAS WARTON. 1728-1790.

All human race, from China to Peru,*
Pleasure, howe'er disguis'd by art, pursue.

Universal Love of Pleasure.

Nor rough, nor barren, are the winding ways
Of hoar antiquity, but strewn with flowers.

Written on a Blank Leaf of Dugdale's Monasticon.

1 See Butler, pages 215, 216.

3 There are two things which I am confident I can do very well: one is an introduction to any literary work, stating what it is to contain, and how it should be executed in the most perfect manner.

See Young, page 310.
See Johnson, page 365.

BOSWELL: Life of Johnson, An. 1775.

THOMAS PERCY. 1728-1811.

Every white will have its blacke,

And every sweet its soure.

Reliques of Ancient Poetry. Sir Cauline

Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone,
Wi' the auld moon in hir arme.1 Sir Patrick Spens

He that had neyther been kith nor kin

Might have seen a full fayre sight.

Guy of Gisborne
Have you not heard these many years ago
Jeptha was judge of Israel?

He had one only daughter and no mo,
The which he loved passing well;
And as by lott,

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Where gripinge grefes the hart wounde,
And dolefulle dumps the mynde oppresse,
There music with her silver sound
With spede is wont to send redresse.

A Song to the Lute in Musicke

1 I saw the new moon late yestreen,
Wi' the auld moon in her arm.

From Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.

2 "As by lot, God wot;" and then you know, "It came to pass, as most like it was."— - SHAKESPEARE: Hamlet, act ii. sc. 2.

8 Hey, Robin, jolly Robin,

Tell me how thy lady does.

SHAKESPEARE: Twelfth Night, act iv. sc. 2.

4 When griping grief the heart doth wound,
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,

Then music with her silver sound.

Shakespeare: Romeo and Juliet, act iv. sc. &

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