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©onbersatum. — Swift

"\TOTHING is more generally exploded than the folly of talking too much; yet I rarely remember to have seen five people together, where some one among them has not been predominant in that kind, to the great constraint and disgust of all the rest. But among such as deal in Multitudes of Words, none are comparable to the sober deliberate Talker, who proceeds with much thought and caution, makes his preface, branches out into several digressions, finds a hint that puts him in mind of another Story, which he promises to tell you when this is done; comes back regularly to his subject, cannot readily call to mind some person's name, holding his head, complains of his memory: the whole Company all this while is in suspense; at length, he says it is no matter, and so goes on. And, to crown the business, it perhaps proves at last a Story the Company has heard fifty times before.

fflonber^attOn. — Sir William Temple. T'HE first ingredient in Conversation is Truth, the next Good Sense, the third Good Humour, and the fourth Wit.

ffimtbergatteitt*— La Rochefoucauld. 'THE extreme pleasure we take in talking of ourselves should make us fear that we give very little to those who listen to us.

(ftonbetsatum* — Swift

(~)NE of the best Kules in Conversation is, never to say a thing which any of the Company can reasonably wish we had rather left unsaid: nor can there any thing be well more contrary to the ends for which people meet together, than to part unsatisfied with each other or themselves.

atCttberSattCtt. — Voltaire. HTHE secret of tiring is to say every thing that can be said on the subject.

(£onbetSattmiL — La Rochefoucauld. ONE thing which makes us find so few people who appear reasonable and agreeable in Conversation is, that there is scarcely any one who does not think more of what he is about to say than of answering precisely what is said to him. The cleverest and most complaisant people content themselves with merely showing an attentive Countenance, while we can see in their eyes and mind a wandering from what is said to them, and an impatience to return to what they wish to say; instead of reflecting that it is a bad method of pleasing or persuading others, to be so studious of pleasing oneself; and that listening well and answering well is one of the greatest Perfections that can be attained in Conversation.

ffionbergatum. — Coiton.

V\/"HEN I meet with any that write obscurely, or converse confusedly, I am apt to suspect two things; first, that such persons do not understand themselves; and, secondly, that they are not worthy of being understood by others.

(EonbtXZion. Cotton. HTHE most zealous Converters are always the most rancorous, when they fail of producing Conviction; but when they succeed, they love their new Disciples far better than those whose establishment in the Faith neither excited their zeal to the combat, nor rewarded their prowess with victory.

(&0nbtX8itm.— Goethe.

AS to the value of Conversions, God alone can judge. God alone

can know how wide are the steps which the soul has to take

before it can approach to a Community with him, to the dwelling

of the Perfect, or to the Intercourse and Friendship of higher


ffiOnbtbtalttg. —Armstrong.
T1THAT dextrous thousands just within the goal
Of wild Debauch direct their nightly course I
Perhaps no sickly qualms bedim their days,
No morning admonitions shock the head.
But ah! what woes remain? life rolls apace,
And that incurable disease, old age,
In youthful bodies more severely felt,
More sternly active, shakes their blasted prime.

(ttOttbtbtalttS. — Charles Johnson.

0 When we swallow down
Intoxicating Wine, we drink Damnation;
Naked we stand the sport of mocking fiends,
Who grin to see our noble nature vanquished,
Subdued to beasts.

CJe (&0%Mttt.—Joanna Baillie.
She who only finds her Self-esteem
In others' Admiration, begs an alms)
Depends on others for her daily food,
And is the very servant of her slaves;
Tho' oftentimes, in a fantastic hour,
O'er men she may a childish pow'r exert,
Which not ennobles, but degrades her state.

OlOtmptrtJ Caintt — ShaJcspeare.
THE gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare Speaker,
To nature none more bound; his Training such,

That he may furnish and instruct great teachers,

And never seek for aid out of himself.

Yet see,

When these so noble benefits shall prove

Not well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt,

They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly

Than ever they were fair.

Corruption.— Burke. 'THE age unquestionably produces, (whether in a greater or less number than in former times, I know not,) daring Profligates and insidious Hypocrites. What then? Am I not to avail myself of whatever good is to be found in the world, because of the mixture of evil that will always be in it? The smallness of the quantity in currency only heightens the value.

Corruption. — ShaJcspeare.
Q THx\T estates, degrees and offices

Were not derived corruptly! and that clear Honour
Were purchased by the Merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover, that stand bare!
How many be commanded, that command!
How much low peasantry would then be glean'd
From the true seed of honour! And how much Honour
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times,
To be new garnish'd!

Corruption, — Coiton.

A/TEN, by associating in large masses, as in camps, and in cities, improve their Talents, but impair their Virtues, and strengthen their Minds, but weaken their Morals; thus a retrocession in the one, is too often the price they pay for a refinement in the other.

Corruption. — Shakspeare.
THEY that have power to hurt and will do none,

That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves of stone,

Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow;
They rightly do inherit HeavVs graces,

And husband Nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,

Others but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,

Though to itself it only live and die;
But if that flower with base Infection meet,

The basest weed outbraves his dignity;
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

©OrrupttOn^ — Shakspeare.
TF that the Heavens do not their visible spirits
Send quickly down to tame these vile Offences,
'Twill come,

Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
Like monsters of the deep.

OtOUngeL — Fuller.
Good Counsels observed are chains to grace.

ffiOUttSeL — Seneca. /^ONSULT your Friend on all things, especially on those which respect yourself. His Counsel may then be useful, where your own self-love might impair your Judgment.

(KOUnCtl— Shalcspeare. T ET our Alliance be combined,

Our best Friends made, and our best Means stretch'd out;
And let us presently go sit in Council,
How covert matters may be best disclosed,
And open perils surest answer'd.

©Otmtrg*— HallecTc.
They love their land because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why.

Cfje ffioimtrg*—Milton.

J^ WILDERNESS of sweets; for Nature here

Wanton'd as in her prime, and play'd at will
Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet,
Wild above rule or art, enormous bliss.

ffiOtmtrg ILift.—Milton.

Wisdom's self
Oft seeks so sweet retired Solitude;
Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation,
She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,
That in the various bustle of Resort
Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd.

ffiOUntrg Utfe, — Cowper.
TTOW various his employments, whom the world

Calls idle, and who justly in return
Esteems that busy world an idler too!
Friends, books, a Garden, and perhaps his pen,
Delightful industry enjoyed at home,
And Nature in her cultivated trim,
Dress'd to his taste, inviting him abroad.

(ftOUttttg ILtfo — Thomson.

Now from the town Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps, Oft let me wander o'er the dewy Fields, Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling drops From the bent Bush, as through the verdant Maze Of Sweet-brier Hedges I pursue my walk.

Otoimtrg Etfe, — Cowper.

''TIS pleasant through the loop-holes of Retreat,

To peep at such a world.
To see the stir of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd.
To hear the roar she sends through all her gates,
At a safe distance, where the dying sound
Falls a soft murmur on th' uninjur'd ear.

(JtOMtttg TLHt.—Cowper.
T^HEY love the Country, and none else, who seek

For their own sake its Silence and its Shade:
Delights which who would leave that has a heart
Susceptible of pity, or a mind
Cultured and capable of sober thought.

(ttountrg %iU. Cowper.

CjOT> made the Country, and man made the Town.
What wonder, then, that health and virtue, gifts
That can alone make sweet the bitter draught
That life holds out to all, should most abound
And least be threatened in the Fields and Groves.

dOtUttrg 1L\U.—Cowper.
OH for a Lodge in some vast Wilderness,

Some boundless Contiguity of Shade,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful and successful war
Might never reach me more! My ear is pain'd,
My soul is sick with every day's report
Of wrong and outrage with which earth is fill'd.

CtrjUttttg ILtfe, — Cowper.
HPHE spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns;
The low'ring eye, the petulance, the frown,
And sullen sadness that o'ershade, distort,
And mar the face of beauty, when no cause
For such immeasurable wo appears,
These Flora banishes, and gives the fair
Sweet smiles and bloom less transient than her own.

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