Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Shaks. Julius Cæsar. The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law: The world affords no law to make thee rich; Then be not poor, but break it and take this. Shaks. Romeo and Juliet. Who thinketh to buy villany with gold, Silver, though white, Middleton and Rowley's Fair Quarrel. Petitions not sweetened With gold, are but unsavoury and oft refused; Or if received, are pocketed, not read. A suitor's swelling tears by the glowing beams Of choleric authority are dried up Before they fall, or if seen, never pitied. Massinger. CALAMITY. Do not insult calamity: It is a barb'rous grossness, to lay on Daniel's Philotas. Calamity is man's true touch-stone. Beaumont and Fletcher's Four Plays in One. Sir W. Davenant's Law against Lovers. Foretells his own calamity, and makes Thus, sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud; Shaks. Henry VI. Tell me no more Young. Of my soul's lofty gifts! Are they not vain The earth unknown. Mrs. Hemans. I turn me back, and find a barren waste, Joyless and rayless; a few spots are there, Where briefly it was granted me to faste The tenderness of youthful love-in air The charm is broken. Percival Pure was the temp'rate air, an even calm Perpetual reign'd, save what the zephyrs bland Breath'd o'er the blue expanse. Thomson's Seasons. Gradual sinks the breeze Into a perfect calin; that not a breath I heard to quiver thro' the closing woods, Or rustling turn the many twinkling leaves Of aspen tall. The uncurling floods, diffus'd In glassy breadth, seem through delusive lapse, Forgetful of their course. "Tis silence all, And pleasing expectation. Thomson's Seasons. The wind breathed soft as lovers sigh, And oft renew'd seem'd oft to die, With breathless pause between. O who with speech of war and woes, Would wish to break the soft repose Of such enchanting scene! Scott's Lord of the Isles. St. George's banner, broad and gay, The evening gale had scarce the power The sea is like a silvery lake, Moore. Serenely my heart took the hue of the hour, As the billow the force of the gale that was fled! And all was stillness, save the sca-bird's cry, Byron's Don Juan. Byron's Lara. When all the fiercer passions cease, Can listen to the voice of truth; Thy beauty is as undenied Scott's Marmion. And thy heart beats just as equally, 'Twas one of those ambrosial eves How calm,--how beautiful comes on Moore's Lalla Rookh. Whate'er thy praises are; And so long without a parallel Thy loveliness hath shone, That, followed like the tided moon, Thou movest as calmly on. CANDOUR. Crabbe. Willis Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot A cause, in which our strength we should not For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer cakes, waste Lady, you are the cruelest she alive, Shakspeare. Most women's weak resolves, like reeds, will fly, Shake with each breath, and bend with every sigh; Mine, like an oak whose firm roots deep descend, Nor breath of love can shake, nor sigh can bend. Gay, CEREMONY-CHALLENGE-CHANGE. 61 If I am fair, 't is for myself alone; I do not wish to have a sweetheart near me, Nor would I call another's heart my own, Nor have a gallant lover to revere me; For surely I would plight my faith to none, | Then ceremony leads her bigots forth, Prepar'd to fight for shadows of no worth; Though many an amorous wit might jump to They learn to bow, to kneel, to sit, to stand; hear me; For I have heard that lovers prove deceivers, Mrs. Welby. I'm an old maid!—and though I suffer by it I Must change my style, and leave off gay society. Willis. O many a summer's morning glow O. W. Holmes. I seek not what chances Have doomed us to part; What are thy rents? What are thy comings in? I know thou hast told me O ceremony, show me but thy worth: What is thy toll, O adoration? Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, To love thee no more, And I still must obey Where I once did adore. Bryant. Tennyson. Hoffman In bower and garden rich and rare What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poison'd flattery? O be sick, great greatness, And bid thy ceremony give thee cure. |