2.

Fear, standing at the gate of the ear, puts back all persuasions.

3.

Who will adhere to him that abandons him self!

4.

Fearfulness, contrary to all other vices, maketh a man think the better of another, worse of himself.

5.

the

Fear is the underminer of all determinations; and necessity, the victorious rebel of all laws.

6.

The present fear is ever, to a coward, the most terrible.

7.

There is nothing more desirous of novelties, than a man that fears his present fortune.

8.

Cruel is the haste of a prevailing coward.

9.

Hate, in a coward's heart, can set itself no other limits than death.

10.

Amongst those who want heart to prevent shame, there are some who want not wit to feel shame; but not so much repining at it, for the abhorring of shame, as for the discommodities which to them that are shamed,

ensue.

11.

As well the soldier dieth who standeth still, as he that gives the bravest onset.

12.

Fear is far more painful to cowardice, than death to true courage.

Remark.

If Cowardice were not so completely a coward, as to be unable to look steadily upon the effects of courage, he would find that there is no refuge so sure as dauntless valour. While the poltroon, by starts and flight, invites insult, outrage, and pursuit, the brave man, by facing the adversary, checks his force; and either rids himself of the enemy, or dies with the manly consciousness of having defended

his life to the last: the coward loses his like a fool, with his motionless arms spread to the air, and his cries deprecating the death which snaps so worthless an existence. Feebleness of spirit so thoroughly paralises a man, that it renders him incapable of the commonest duties of civil society. It induces him, not only to cringe under injuries offered to himself, but to hear his best friend calumniated, without uttering a word of vindication. It draws him after the strongest party, in every commotion of opinions or circumstances; and whether his conscience tell him that the path is right or wrong, his apprehensions hold him in it: for the coward is totally at the mercy of the prevailing power; and, like a weather-cock, is blown about at the caprice of every wind.Notwithstanding this despicable picture, there are persons who speak tenderly of these sons of the little soul, and say, "That though they are not as brave as their neighbours, they are sometimes as good sort of people as those who will run their heads into a cannon's mouth!" It cannot be denied that they are inoffensive enough, while gliding down the untroubled

current of life; but should their personal safety, or even their personal comfort, and too often their mere personal indulgences, be put in competition with the honour of their country, or the reputation of their friend, they would leave both to their fates, and sit in silent selfish security, while either was perishing. There can be no virtue in the coward: his soul is little better than a surface of sand, on which no principles can find a steady foundation. He is for ever in a panic; and like a man in the dark surrounded by banditti, is ready to stab friend as well as foe; his dagger is concealed in the night, and his fears whisper to him, that his own safety is of more moment than a thousand dear connections. Hamlet says, the devil is very potent with such spirits: when they are in power, jealousy makes them tyrants; and when they are oppressed, what their patience will not bear they remove by treachery. If their poig

As

nard cannot reach the life, it wounds the character; and he who has not spirit to defend a friend, does not want cunning to defame a foe.

COURTESY.

1.

APPROVED valour is made precious by na tural courtesy.

Remark.

Virtue, without the graces, is like a rich diamond unpolished; it hardly looks better than a common pebble; but when the hand of the master rubs off the roughness, and forms the sides into a thousand brilliant surfaces, it is then that we acknowledge its worth, admire its beauty, and long to wear it in our bosoms.

2.

The pleasantest hospitality waiteth not for curious costliness, when it can give cleanly sufficiency. More cometh of pride and greater friendliness to your own ostentation, than to the comfort of the guest.