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What's one man's poison, signor,

Is another's meat or drink.

Let it be tenable in your silence still.
Love's Cure, Act iii. Sc. 2. BEAUMONT and FLETCHER.

Give it an understanding, but no tongue.
Variety's the very spice of life,

Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2.
That gives it all its flavor.
The Timepiece: The Task, Book ii.

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice ;

Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgNot chaos-like together crushed and bruised,


Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3.
But, as the world, harmoniously confused,
Where order in variety we see,

And oftentimes excusing of a fault
And where, though all things differ, all agree.

Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse,

Doth make the fa
Windsor Forest.


As patches, set upon a little breach,
Discredit more in hiding of the fault

Than did the fault before it was so patched.

King Fohn, Act iv. Sc. 2.

SHAKESPEARE. 0, shame to men ! devil with devil damned Firm concord holds, men only disagree

MODERATION. Of creatures rational.

Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Paradise Lost, Book ii.

Lie in three words, - health, peace, and compe


But health consists with temperance alone, TRIFLES.

And peace, O Virtue ! peace is all thine own. Think naught a trifle, though it small appear; 1 Essay on Man, Epistle IV.

POPE. Small sands the mountain, moments make the

These violent delights have violent ends, And trifles life.

And in their triumph die ; like fire and powder, Love of Fame, Satire vi.


Which as they kiss consume.


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Pretty! in amber to observe the forms

Therefore love moderately ; long love doth so; Of hair, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms ! Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. Sc. 6.

SHAKESPEARE. But wonder how the devil they got there!

They surfeited with honey; and began
Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot : Prologue to Satires. POPE.

To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little What dire offence from amorous causes springs,

More than a little is by much too much.

King Henry IV., Part I. Act iii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. What mighty contests rise from trivial things. The Rape of the Lock, Cant. i.

РОРЕ. He that holds fast the golden mean,

And lives contentedly between A little fire is quickly trodden out,

The little and the great,
Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench.

Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,
King Henry VI., Part III. Act iv. Sc. 8. SHAKESPEARE.

Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door.
Translation of Horace, Book ii. Ode x.

If then to all men happiness was meant,

God in externals could not place content.
Our better part remains
Essay on Man, Epistle IV.

To work in close design, by fraud or guile,
What force effected not ; that he no less

IDLENESS AND ENNUI. At length from us may find, who overcomes

| 'Tis the voice of the sluggard ; I heard him By force hath overcome but half his foe.

complain, Paradise Lost, Book i.


“You have waked me too soon, I must slumber

The Sluggard,

How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds Absence of occupation is not rest,
Makes ill deeds done!

A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.
King Fohn, Act iv. Sc. 2.
SHAKESPEARE. | Retirement,


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To sigh, yet feel no pain,

NIGHT AND SLEEP. To weep, yet scarce know why;

Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep! To sport an hour with Beauty's chain,

He, like the world, his ready visit pays Then throw it idly by.

Where fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes : The Blue Stocking.


Swift on his downy pinions flies from woe, The keenest pangs the wretched find

And lights on lids unsullied with a tear.

DR. E. YOUNG. Are rapture to the dreary void,

Night Thoughts, Night i.
The leafless desert of the mind,
The waste of feelings unemployed.

Thou hast been called, 0 sleep! the friend of

woe ; The Giaour.

But 't is the happy that have called thee so. Their only labor was to kill the time

Curse of Kehama, Cant. xv.

R. SOUTHEY. (And labor dire it is, and weary woe); They sit, they loll, turn o’er some idle rhyme ; | She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down, Then, rising sudden, to the glass they go,

And rest your gentle head upon her lap, Or saunter forth, with tottering step and slow :

And she will sing the song that pleaseth you, This soon too rude an exercise they find ; And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep, Straight on the couch their limbs again they | Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness ; throw,

Making such difference betwixt wake and sleep Where hours on hours they sighing lie reclined,

As is the difference betwixt day and night, And court the vapory god, soft breathing in the

The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team wind.

Begins his golden progress in the east.
The Castle of Indolence, Cant. i.

King Henry IV., Part I. Act iii. Sc. I. SHAKESPEARE.


Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth HANG SORROW!

Finds the down pillow hard. And this the burden of his song forever used Cymbeline, Act iii. Sc. 6.

to be, I care for nobody, no not I, if nobody cares for Care-charming sleep, thou easer of all woes,

Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose Love in a Village, Act i. Sc. 2.

I. BICKERSTAFF. On this afflicted prince ; fall like a cloud

In gentle showers ; . . . sing his pain Without the door let sorrow lie;

Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain. And if for cold it hap to die,


BEAUMONT and FLETCHER. We'll bury't in a Christmas pie, And evermore be merry.

Midnight brought on the dusky hour

Friendliest to sleep and silence. And Jack shall pipe, and Gill shall dance,

Paradise Lost, Book v. And all the town be merry.

And the night shall be filled with music, For Christmas comes but once a year,

And the cares that infest the day And then they shall be merry.

Shall fold their tents like the Arabs,

And as silently steal away.
Though others' purses be more fat,

The Day is Done.
Why should we pine, or grieve at that?
Hang sorrow ! care will kill a cat,

To all, to each, a fair good-night,
And therefore let's be merry.

And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light!

Marmion : L'Envoy, To the Reader,






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The very fones in which we Snake

blad something strange I could but martes
othe leaves of memory deemed to make
A moumful susiting as the dark.

Solenny H. Longfellow POEMS OF FANCY.

Whose candid bosom the refining love
Of nature warms; 0, listen to my song,
And I will guide thee to her favorite walks,
And teach thy solitude her voice to hear,
And point her loveliest features to thy view.


BREAK, Fantasy, from thy cave of cloud,

And spread thy purple wings,
Now all thy figures are allowed,

And various shapes of things ;
Create of airy forms a stream,
It must have blood, and naught of phlegm ;
And though it be a waking dream,
Yet let it like an odor rise

To all the senses here,
And fall like sleep upon their eyes,
Or music in their ear.



EVER let the Fancy roam,
Pleasure never is at home :
At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth,
Like to bubbles when rain pelteth ;
Then let winged Fancy wander
Through the thought still spread beyond her:
Open wide the mind's cage-door,
She 'll dart forth, and cloudward soar.



FROM "THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION." As Memnon's marble harp renowned of old By fabling Nilus, to the quivering touch Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive string Consenting, sounded through the warbling air Unbidden strains ; e'en so did Nature's hand To certain species of external things Attune the finer organs of the mind; So the glad impulse of congenial powers, Or of sweet sound, or fair-proportioned form, The grace of motion, or the bloom of light, Thrills through imagination's tender frame, From nerve to nerve ; all naked and alive They catch the spreading rays; till now the soul At length discloses every tuneful spring, To that harmonious movement from without, Responsive. Then the inexpressive strain Diffuses its enchantment; Fancy dreams Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves, And vales of bliss ; the Intellectual Power Bends from his awful throne a wondering ear, And smiles ; the passions gently soothed away, Sink to divine repose, and love and joy Alone are waking ; love and joy serene As airs that fan the summer. O attend, Whoe'er thou art whom these delights can touch,

O sweet Fancy ! let her loose ;
Summer's joys are spoilt by use,
And the enjoying of the Spring
Fades as does its blossoming :
Autumn's red-lipped fruitage too,
Blushing through the mist and dew,
Cloys.with tasting. What do then ?
Sit thee by the ingle, when
The sear fagot blazes bright,
Spirit of a winter's night;
When the soundless earth is muffled,
And the caked snow is shuffled
From the ploughboy's heavy shoon;
When the Night doth meet the Noon
In a dark conspiracy
To banish Even from her sky.
- Sit thee there, and send abroad
With a mind self-overawed
Fancy, high-commissioned :— send her!
She has vassals to attend her ;
She will bring, in spite of frost,
Beauties that the earth hath lost;
She will bring thee, all together,
All delights of summer weather ;
All the buds and bells of May
From dewy sward or thorny spray;

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