Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,--
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds?
Be these sad sighs confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again;... not all thy former tale,
But this one word,-whether thy tale be true?

APPARITION.

Shakespeare.

How ill this taper burns! ... Ha! who comes here? I think it is the weakness of my eyes,

That shapes this... monstrous apparition-

It comes upon me :-- art thou...any thing?
Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil,
That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stand,...
Speak to me... what thou art.

APPREHENSION.- Lee.

When the sun sets, shadows that showed at noon
But small, appear most long and terrible :
So, when we think fate hovers o'er our heads,
Our apprehensions shoot beyond all bounds;
Owls, ravens, crickets, seem the watch of death ;—
Nature's worst vermin scare her godlike sons.
Echoes. [the very leaving of a voice,

Grow babbling ghosts, and call us to our graves.
Each mole-hill thought swells to a huge Olympus;
While we, fantastic dreamers, heave and puff,
And sweat... with an imagination's weight.

Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect
A saucy roughness; and constrains the garb,
Quite from his nature.-- He cannot flatter...he!
An honest mind and plain,--- he must speak truth:
An' they will take it... so; --- if not... he's plain.
These kind of knaves I know, which in this... plainness
Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,
Than twenty silly, ducking observants,

That stretch their duties nicely.

Fetch forth the stocks, ho!

You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart, We'll teach you... Fetch forth the stocks: ...

As I've life and honour, there shall he sit till noon.

AUTHORITY.

O, it is excellent

Shakespeare.

To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant.

Could great men thunder

As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet: ..

For every pelting petty officer,

Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but thunder.— Merciful Heaven!

Thou, rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt,

Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,

Than the soft myrtle.-O, but man, proud man!
Drest in a little brief authority;

Most ignorant of what he's most assured—
His glassy essence.-like an angry ape,

Plays such fantastic tricks, before high Heaven,
As make the angels weep.

AVARICIOUS AGE.- Young.

Oh, my coevals! remnants of yourselves!
Poor human ruins, tott'ring o'er the grave!
Shall we, shall aged men, like aged trees,
Strike deeper their vile root, and closer cling,
Still more enamour'd of this wretched soil?

Shall our pale, wither'd hands, be still stretched out,
Trembling, at once with eagerness and age?
With avarice and convulsions grasping hard?
Grasping... at air! for what has earth beside?
Man wants but little; nor that little long:
How soon must he resign his very dust!

BEAUTY.-Blair.

Beauty! thou pretty play-thing! dear deceit!
That steals so softly o'er the stripling's heart,
And gives it a new pulse, unknown before ;---
The grave discredits thee. Thy charms expung'd,
Thy roses faded, and thy lilies soiled.-

What had'st thou more to boast of? Will thy lovers
Flock round thee now, to gaze and do thee homage?
Methinks I see thee, with thy head laid low;
Whilst, surfeited upon thy damask cheek,
The high fed worm in lazy volumes roll'd,

Riots unscar'd. For this, was all thy caution!

For this, thy painful labours at the glass,

To improve those charms, and keep them in repair.
For which the spoiler thanks thee not? Foul feeder!
Coarse fare and carrion please thee full as well,
And leave as keen a relish on the sense.

BEREAVEMENT.- Alex. Bell.

Each has his woe, and I, alas, have mine.
All common sorrows are in common shared;
But there's a climax of calamity

Which settles in some solitary breast.

The angry winds and flooding rains oft spread
A general wreck; while the electric fire

A single victim strikes.- O, I have been
A husband and a father! Now, alas!
I'm childless, widowed, hopeless, aimless!

BOASTFUL CHALLENGE.

Shakespeare.

Show me what thou'lt do;

Woul't weep? woul't fight! woul't fast? woul't tear thyself? Woul't drink up Esil? eat a crocodile?

I'll do't.- Do'st thou come here to whine,

To outface me with leaping in her grave?

Be buried quick with her.... and so will I:,

And if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us; till our ground,
Singeing its pate against the burning zone,

Make Ossa like a wart! Nay! an' thou'lt mouth,
I'll rant as well as thou.

An ardent spirit dwells with Christian love,—
The eagle's vigour in the pitying dove:
'Tis not enough that we with sorrow sigh,
That we the wants of pleading man supply
That we in sympathy with sufferers feel,
Nor hear a grief without a wish to heal :-
Not these suffice:- to sickness, pain, and wo.
The Christian spirit loves with aid to go;
Will not be sought, waits not for Want to plead,
But seeks the duty-nay, prevents the need ;--
Her utmost aid to every ill applies.

And plans relief for coming miseries.

CHEERFULNESS.- Shakespeare.

Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The season's difference; -as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,--
Which...when it bites and blows upon body.
Ev'n till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say,
This is no flattery; these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me ... what I am:
Sweet are the uses of Adversity;

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in its head;

And this our life, [exempt from public haunts,

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.

CLOSE OF A GUILTY CAREER.- Shakespeare. I have liv'd long enough: my May of life

Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf:

And that which should accompany old age.

[As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, |

I must not look to have; but. in their stead,

Curses... not loud, but deep,- mouth-honour,-breath, ☎ Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not.

CONFIDENCE. Byron.

That's false! a truer, nobler, trustier heart,

More loving, or more loyal, never beat

Within a human breast. I would not change

My exil'd, persecuted, mangled husband-

Oppress'd, but not disgraced, crushed, overwhelm'd—
Alive or dead, for Prince or Paladin,

In story or in fable-with a world

To back his suit Dishonour'd! He dishonour'd!
I tell thee. Doge, 'tis Venice is dishonour'd.

CONFLICTING PASSIONS.- Shakespeare.
Thou think'st 'tis much, that this contentious storm
Invades us to the skin so 'tis to thee;

But where the greater malady is fixed.

The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear ; .

But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,

Thou'dst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the mind s free,

The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind

Doth from my senses take all feeling else,

Save... what... beats there. Filial ingratitude!...

Is it not as this mouth should tear his hand

For lifting food to't? But I will punish home!
No. I will weep no more. In such a night

To shut me out!... Pour on; I will endure:

In such a night as this! O Regan-Goneril!—

Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all......

O, that way madness lies: let me shun that.

No more of that.- Pry'thee go in; seek thine own ease;
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder

On things would hurt me more.—But I'll go in !—
In, boy; go first. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you
From reasons such as these?... O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp ;-
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou may'st shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just.

CONTEMPTUOUS REPROACH.

Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward,
Thou little valiant, great in villany!

Shakespeare.

Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!
Thou Fortune's champion, thou dost never fight
But when her humorous ladyship is by

To teach thee safety! thou art perjur'd too,
And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou,
A ramping fool; to brag, and stamp, and swear
Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave,

Hast thou not spoke like thunder, on my side...
Been sworn my soldier! bidding me depend
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength?...
And dost thou not fall over to my foes?
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,
And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs.

CONSTANCY.- Milton.

Certain, my resolution is to die.

How can I live without thee! how forego
Thy converse sweet, and love so dearly join'd,
To live again in these wild woods... forlorn!
Should God create another Eve, and I
Another rib afford, yet loss of thee

Would never from my heart! no, no; I feel
The link of nature draw me; flesh of my flesh,
Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state
Mine never shall be parted, ... bliss or woe.

CONTRADICTION.- - Lloyd.

"Here, Cicely, take away my gun:

How shall we have these starlings done?" "Done! what my love? your wits are wild! Starlings, my dear! they're thrushes, child."

Nay, now, but look, consider, wife,

They're starlings." (?) “No, upon my life!
Sure I can judge as well as you ..

I know a thrush, and starling too.”-
"Who was it shot them, you or I?
They're Starlings !”—“ Thrushes!".
Pray. Sır, take back your dirty word,
I scorn your language..
... as your bird;
It ought to make a husband blush,

"Wife... you lie."—

To treat a wife so... 'bout a... thrush."

"Thrush, Cicely!”—“Yes.”—“ A starling !"— No.”— The lie again, and then... the blow.