DCCCCXXXIV.

If I should grant that in the ebullitions of a violent passion, one may love another better than himself, who should I most oblige, the lovers or the mistresses?Bruyere.

DCCCCXXXV.

Good men, like the sea, should still maintain
Their noble taste, in midst of all fresh humours,
That flow about them, to corrupt their streams,
Bearing no season, much less salt of goodness.
Ben Jonson.

DCCCCXXXVI. Notwithstanding man's essential perfection is but very little, his comparative perfection may be very considerable. If he looks upon himself in an abstracted light, he has not much to boast of; but if he considers himself with regard to others, he may find occasion of glorying, if not in his own virtues, at least in the absence of another's imperfections. This gives a different turn to the reflections of the wise man and the fool. The first endeavours to shine in himself, and the last to outshine others. The first is humbled by the sense of his own infirmities, the last is lifted up by the discovery of those which he observes in other men. The wise man considers what he wants, and the fool what he abounds in. The wise man is happy when he gains his own approbation, and the fool when he recommends himself to the applause of those

Fainwood. By no means, 'tis better as it is; 'tis better to trade with a little loss, than to be quite eaten up with being overstocked.-Congreve-Way of the World.

DCCCCXLIII.

Men of great parts are often unfortunate in the management of public business, because they are apt to go out of the common road by the quickness of their imagination. This I once said to my Lord Bolingbroke, and desired he would observe, that the clerk in his office used a sort of ivory knife with a blunt edge to divide a sheet of paper, which never failed to cut it even, only requiring a steady hand; whereas if they should make use of a sharp penknife, the sharpness would make it go often out of the crease, and disfigure the paper.-Swift.

DCCCCXLIV.

Vain honour! Thou art but disguise,
A cheating voice, a juggling art;
No judge of virtue, whose pure eyes
Court her own image in the heart,
More pleased with her true figure there,
Than her false echo in the ear.

DCCCCXLV.

Carew.

The bounds of a man's knowledge are easily concealed, if he has but prudence; but all can readily see and admire a gilt library, a set of long nails, a silver standish, or a well combed whisker; who are incapable of distinguishing a dunce.-Goldsmith.

DCCCCXLVI.

Self-love never yet could look on Truth,
But with blear'd beams; slick Flattery and she
Are twin-born sisters, and so mix their eyes,
As if you sever one, the other dies.

DCCCCXLVII.

Ben Jonson.

Mere success is certainly one of the worst arguments in the world of a good cause, and the most improper to satisfy conscience: and yet we find, by experience, that

in the issue it is the most successful of all other arguments, and does in a very odd, but effectual way, satisfy the consciences of a great many men, by showing them their interest.--Tillotson.

DCCCCXLVIII.

O me! what eyes hath love put in my head,
Which have no correspondence with true sight?
Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled,
That censures falsely what they see aright?
If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,
What means the world to say it is not so?
If it be not, then love doth well denote
Love's eye is not so true as all men's: no,
How can it! O, how can Love's eye be true,
That is so vex'd with watching and with tears?
No marvel then though I mistake my view:
The sun itself sees not, till heaven clears.

O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind,
Lest eyes well seeing thy foul faults should find.
Shakspeare.

DCCCCXLIX.

O the delights of poverty and a good appetite! We beggars are the very fondlings of Nature: the rich she treats like an arrant stepmother; they are pleased with nothing; cut a steak from what part you will, and it is insupportably tough; dress it up with pickles, and even pickles cannot procure them an appetite. But the whole creation is filled with good things for the beggar; Calvert's butt out-tastes champaign, and Sedgeley's homebrewed excels tokay. Joy, joy, my blood; though our estates lie no where, we have fortunes wherever we go. If an inundation sweeps away half the grounds in Cornwall, I am content; I have no land there: if the stocks sink, that gives me no uneasiness; I am no Jew.-Adventures of a Strolling Player.-Goldsmith.

DCCCCL.

Idleness in women is cured either by vanity or love, though in the sprightly it is the symptom of love.Bruyere

DCCCCLI.

The tragi-comedy, which is the product of the Eng lish theatre, is one of the most monstrous inventions that ever entered into a poet's thoughts. An author might as well think of weaving the adventures of Æneas and Hudibras into one poem, as of writing such a motley piece of mirth and sorrow.-Addison.

DCCCCLII.

A man had need, if he be plentiful in some kind of expense, to be as saving again in some other: as if he be plentiful in diet, to be saving in apparel; if he be plentiful in the hall, to be saving in the stable, and the Îike; for he that is plentiful in expenses of all kinds will hardly be preserved from decay. In clearing of a man's estate, he may as well hurt himself in being too sudden, as in letting it run on too long; for hasty selling is commonly as disadvantageable as interest.-Lord Bacon.

DCCCCLIII.

Minutes are number'd by the fall of sands,

As by an hour-glass; the span of time

Doth waste us to our graves, and we look on it.
An age of pleasures, revell'd out, comes home
At last, and ends in sorrow: but the life,
Weary of riot, numbers every sand,

Wailing in sighs, until the last drop down;
So to conclude calamity in rest.

DCCCCLIV.

Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast,
To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.

DCCCCLV.

Ford.

Congreve.

Some pictures are made for the eyes only, as rattles are made for children's ears; and certainly that picture that only pleases the eye, without representing some well-chosen part of nature or other, does but show what fine colours are to be sold at the colour-shop, and mocks the works of the Creator.-Steele.