I'll turn two mincing steps

Into a manly stride; and speak of frays

For men (it is reported) dash and vapour Less on the field of battle than on paper.

How honourable ladies sought my love,
Which I denying, they fell sick and died:

I could not do with all:-then I will repent,
And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them,
And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell,

That men shall swear I have discontinued school
Above a twelvemonth.

Shaks. Merchant of Venice.

More carnage loads the newspaper than plain. Dr. Wolcot's Peter Pindar.

BOOKS.

And though books, madam, cannot make this mind,

Which we must bring apt to be set aright;
Yet do they rectify it in that kind,

And touch it so, as that it turns that way
Where judgment lies. And though we cannot find
The certain place of truth, yet do they stay,
And entertain us near about the same.

Shaks. Cymbeline.

He made me mad,

A book! O rare one!

To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman

mark!)

And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was parmacity, for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
This villanous saltpetre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly and but for these wild guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.

Shaks. Henry IV.

A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
We'll have a swashing and a martial outside;
As many other mannish cowards have,
That do outface it with their semblances.

Shaks. As you like it.

Here is a silly, stately style indeed!
The Turk that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.

Daniel.

Shaks. Cymbeline

Twere well with most, if books, that could engage
Their childhood, pleas'd them at a riper age;
The man approving what had charm'd the boy,
Would die at last in comfort, peace, and joy;
And not with curses on his art, who stole
The gem of truth from his unguarded soul.

Cowper.
Books are men of higher stature,
And the only men that speak aloud for future
times to hear! Miss Barrett's Poems.

Come let me make a sunny realm around thee, Of thought and beauty!-Here are books and flowers,

BOUNTY.

What you desire of him, he partly begs
To be desir'd to give. It much would please him
That of his fortunes you would make a staff
To lean upon.

Shaks. Antony and Cleopatra.

For his bounty,

There was no winter in 't; an autumn 't was
That grew the more by reaping.

Shaks. Antony and Cleopatra.

O blessed bounty, giving all content!
The only fautress of all noble arts,

thee,

Charles Sprague. What he has written seems to me no more Than I have thought a thousand times before. Willis.

We never speak our deepest feelings;
Our holiest hopes have no revealings,
Save in the gleams that light the face,
Or fancies that the pen may trace.
And hence to books the heart must turn
When with unspoken thoughts we yearn,
And gather from the silent page
The just reproof, the counsel sage,
The consolation kind and true

Since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.

Shaks. Hamlet.

'Tis of books the chief Of all perfections to be plain and brief.

Butler.

Stop not, unthinking, every friend you meet To spin your wordy fabric in the street; While you are emptying your colloquial pack, The fiend Lumbago jumps upon his back.

O. W. Holmes

That soothes and heals the wounded heart.
Mrs. Hale's Vigil of Love.

I there's a fever of the soul

Beyond this opiate control,

BRIBERY.

What! shall one of us,

When the book charm its influence loses.

Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm;
To sell and mart your offices for gold
To undeservers.

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,
Shall ever find such faith so bought-so sold.
Marston's Sophonisba.

Silver, though white,
Yet it draws black lines; it shall not rule my palm
There to mark forth his base corruption.

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.

CALAMITY.

Do not insult calamity:

It is a barb'rous grossness, to lay on
The weight of scorn, where heavy misery
Too much already weighs men's fortunes down.

Daniel's Philotas.

Calamity is man's true touch-stone.

Beaumont and Fletcher's Four Plays in One. How wisely fate ordain'd for human kind Calamity which is the perfect glass Wherein we truly see and know ourselves. How justly it created life too short! For being incident to many griefs, Had it been destin'd to continue long, Fate, to please fools, had done the wise great

wrong.

Sir W. Davenant's Law against Lovers.
Know, he that

Foretells his own calamity, and makes
Events before they come, twice over doth
Endure the pains of evil destiny.

But we must trust to virtue, not to fate;
That may protect, whom cruel stars will hate.
Sir W. Davenant's Distresses.
Thus, sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud;
And, after summer, ever more succeeds
Barren winter with his wrathful nipping cold;
So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.
Shaks. Henry VI.
When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys
Fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees,
At every little breath misfortune blows;
"Till left quite naked of their happiness,
In the chill blasts of winter they expire.
This is the common lot.

Tell me no more

Young.

Of my soul's lofty gifts! Are they not vain
To quench its haunting thirst for happiness?
Have I not loved, and striven, and failed to bind
One true heart unto me, whereon my own

Might find a resting-place, a home for all
Its burden of affection? I depart
Unknown, though Fame goes with me; I must
leave

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

CALM.

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 calm; 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,
Now faded, as the fading ray
Less bright, and less, was flung;
The evening gale had scarce the power
To wave it on the donjon tower,
So heavily it hung.

The sea is like a silvery lake,
And o'er its calm the vessel glides
Gently as if it fear'd to wake
The slumbers of the silent tides.

Moore.

Serenely my heart took the hue of the hour,
Its passions were sleeping, were mute as the dead,
And the spirit becalm'd but remember'd their
power,

As the billow the force of the gale that was fled!
Moore.

And all was stillness, save the sea-bird's cry,
And dolphin's leap, and little billow crost
By some low rock or shelve, that made it fret
Against the boundary it scarcely wet.

Byron's Don Juan.
So calm the waters scarcely seem to stray,
And yet they glide like happiness away.

Byron's Lara.

When all the fiercer passions cease, (The glory and disgrace of youth); When the deluded soul in peace,

Can listen to the voice of truth; When we are taught in whom to trust, And how to spare, to spend, to give; (Our prudence kind, our pity just,) 'Tis then we rightly learn to live.

Thy beauty is as undenied As the beauty of a star;

Crabbe.

Willis

Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick
And welcome, Somerset:-I hold it cowardice
To rest mistrustful where a noble heart
Hath paw'd an open hand in sign of love.

Shaks. Henry VIII.

Make my breast

Transparent as pure crystal, that the world, Jealous of me, may see the foulest thought My heart does hold.

The brave do never shun the light;

Buckingham

Just are their thoughts, and open are their tempers;
Truly without disguise they love or hate;
Still are they found in the fair face of day,
And heav'n and men are judges of their actions
Rowe's Fair Penitent.