ANTIPATHY- ANTIQUARY-APPAREL.
Some men there are, love not a gaping pig;
Some that are mad, if they behold a cat.
Masterless passion sways it to the mood,
Of what it likes or loathes.
'Tis found: and, O his happy lot!
'Tis bought, lock'd up, and lies forgot.
He had a routh o' auld nick-nackets,
Rusty airn caps, and jinglin jackets;
Would held the Loudons three in tackets
A towmond gude;
Shaks. Merchant of Venice. And parritch-pats, and auld saut-backets,
All day in contemplation of a statue
With ne'er a nose, and dotes on the decays,
With greater love than the self-lov'd Narcissus
Did on his beauty: How shall I approach him?
Shakerly Marmyon's Antiquary.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the mau.
Shaks, Hamlet.
The fashion
Wears out more apparel than the man.
Shaks. Much ado about nothing.
We will unto your father's. I must rev'rence and prefer the precedent Ev'n in these honest, mean habiliments: Times before these, which consum'd their wits in Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor;
Experiments; and 'twas a virtuous
Emulation amongst them, that nothing
Which should profit posterity, should perish.
Shakerly Marmyon's Antiquary.
They are the
Registers, the chronicles of the age
They were made in, and speak the truth of history,
Better than a hundred of your printed
Communications.
Shakerly Marmyon's Antiquary.
A copper plate, with almanacs
Engrav'd upon't; with other nacks
Of Booker's, Lilly's, Sarah Jimmer's,
And blank schemes to discover nimmers;
A moon dial, with Napier's bones,
And sev'ral constellation stones.
For 't is the mind that makes the body rich:
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
What! is the jay more precious than the lark,
Because his feathers are more beautiful?
Or is the adder better than the eel,
Because his painted skin contents the eye?
O no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse
For this poor furniture, and mean array.
Shaks. Taming of a Shrew.
Thy gown? why, ay:— come, tailor, let us see't.
O mercy, God! what masking stuff is here?
What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon:
What! up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart?
Here's snip and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash,
Like to a censer in a barber's shop:-
Butler's Hudibras. Why what, a'devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?
Shaks. Taming of a Shrew.
What toil did honest Curio take,
What strict inquiries did he make,
To get one medal wanting yet,
And perfect all his Roman set!
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
I do mistake my person all this while.
Upon my life, she finds although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
I'll be at charges for a looking-glass;
And entertain a score or two of tailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body,
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
Shaks. Richard III.
Sure this gay fresh suit, as seems to me,
Hangs like green ivy on a rotten tree.
Daniel's Hymen's Triumph.
I am the same, without all diff'rence; when
You saw me last, I was as rich, as good;
Have no additions since of name, or blood;
Only because I wore a thread-bare suit,
I was not worthy of a poor salute.
A few good clothes put on with small ado,
Purchase your knowledge and your kindred too.
Heywood's Royal King.
Nor yet too brightly strive to blaze,
By stealing all the rainbow rays;
Your gaudy, artificial fly
Will only take the younger fry.
Who has not seen, and seeing mourn'd,
And mourning smiled, and smiling scorn'd,
In wild ambition flaming down,
Some comet from a country town?
See, see her in her motley hues;
Funereal blacks and brimstone blues,
And lurid green, and bonfire red,
At once their varied radiance shed;
And skin deep gold, and would be pearls,
And oh those heaps of corkscrew curls,
O. W. Holmes.
From little matters let us pass to less,
And lightly touch the mysteries of dress;
The outward forms the inner man reveal.
We guess the pulp before we eat the peel.
One single precept might the whole condense-
Be sure your tailor is a man of sense;
But add a little care, or decent pride,
And always err upon the sober side.
Wear seemly gloves; not black, nor yet too light;
And least of all the pair that once was white.
Have a good hat; the secret of your looks
Lies with the beaver in Canadian brooks.
Virtue may flourish in an old cravat,
But man and nature scorn the shocking hat.
Be sny of breastpins; plain, well-ironed, white,
With small pearl buttons,-two of them in sight,—
Is always genuine, while your gems may pass,
'Though real diamonds, for ignoble glass.
And this one maxim is a standing rule,-Men are not what they seem.
Why should the sacred character of virtue
Shine on a villain's countenance? Ye powers!
Why fix'd you not a brand on treason's front,
That we might know t' avoid perfidious mortals.
Dennis's Iphigenia.
Thy plain and open nature secs mankind
But in appearances, not what they are.
Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems,
"Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,
That can denote me truly; These, indeed, seem,
For they are actions that a man might play:
But I have that within, which passeth show;
These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.
Shaks. Hamlet.
Mislike me not for my complexion,—
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun,
To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.
Shaks. Merchant of Venice.
You have slander'd nature in my form;
Which, howsoever rude exteriorly,
Is yet the cover of a fairer mind
Than to be butcher of an innocent child.
There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain;
And though that nature with a beauteous wall
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.
Shaks. Twelfth Night.
He has, I know not what,
Of greatness in his looks, and of high fate
That almost awes me.
Dryden's Marriage a la Mode.
That gloomy outside, like a rusty chest,
Contains the shining treasure of a soul
Resolved and brave.
Dryden's Don Sebastian. Appearances to save, his only care; So things seem right, no matter what they are. Churchill's Rosciad
APPLAUSE-ARCHITECTURE - ARBOUR-ARGUMENT.
They form'd a very nymph-like looking crew,
Which might have call'd Diana's chorus "Cousin,"
As far as outward show may correspond;
I won't be bail for anything beyond.
No sooner had th' Almighty ceased, but all
The multitude of angels, with a shout
Loud as from numbers without number, sweet
As from blest voices, uttering joy, heaven rung
Byron's Don Juan. With jubilee, and loud hosannahs fill'd
Th' eternal regions.
The deepest ice that ever froze
Can only o'er the surface close;
The living stream lies quick below,
And flows, and cannot cease to flow.
One slanting up his face did wink
The salt-rheum to the eyelid's brink,
As if to think-or-not to think!
Some trod out stealthily and slow,
As if the sun would fall in snow,
If they walked to, instead of fro.
Milton's Paradise Lost. City, country, all,
Is in gay triumph tempest toss'd,
Byron. I scarce could press along. The trumpet's voice
Is lost in loud repeated shouts, that raise
Your name to heaven.
At which the universal host up sent
A shout that tore hell's concave, and beyond
Frighted the reign of chaos and old night.
Milton's Paradise Lost.
The hollow abyss
Heard far and wide, and all the host of hell
With deaf'ning shout return'd them loud acclaim.
Milton's Paradise Lost.
He said, and as the sound of waters deep,
Hoarse murmur echoed to his words applause
Through the infinite host.
Be calm in arguing: For fierceness makes
Error a fault, and truth discourtesy.
Why should I feel another man's mistakes
More than his sicknesses or poverty?
In love I should; but anger is not love,
Milton's Paradise Lost. Nor wisdom neither; therefore gently movą
Calmness is great advantage: He that lets
Another chafe, may warm him at his fire,
Mark all his wand'rings, and enjoy his frets,
As cunning fencers suffer heat to tire.
Like doctors thus, when much dispute has past,
We find our tenets just the same at last.
Pope's Moral Essays.
Who shall decide when doctors disagree,
Truth dwells not in the clouds: The bow that's And soundest casuists doubt, like you or me.
Doth often aim at, never hit the sphere.
If truth be with thy friend, be with them both:
Share in the conquest, and confess a troth.
But all 's not true that supposition saith,
Nor have the mightiest arguments most faith.
Drayton.
For arguments, like children, should be like
The subject that begets them.
Thomas Decker's Satiromastix.
He'd undertake to prove, by force
Of argument, a man's no horse.
He'd prove a buzzard is no fowl,
And that a lord may be an owl,
A calf an alderman, a goose a justice,
And rooks committee-men and trustees.
Butler's Hudibras.
It is in vain
(I see) to argue 'gainst the grain,
Or, like the stars, incline men to
What they're averse themselves to do;
For when disputes are wearied out,
"Tis interest still resolves the doubt.
A man convinced against his will
Is of the same opinion still.
For obstinacy's ne'er so stiff,
As when 'tis in a wrong belief.
Examples I could cite you more;
But be contented with these four;
For when one's proofs are aptly chosen,
Four are as valid as four dozen.
I'll ride in golden armour like the sun.
And in my helm a triple plume shall spring,
Spangled with diamonds dancing in the air,
To note me emperor of the threefold world.
Marlo's 1st part of Tamberlane the Great.
Assurance now having armed all their hearts,
With proof 'gainst fear, not danger; they prepare
To arm themselves completely at all parts,
Offensive and defensive; one might swear,
They did such motions to their armour give,
That iron breathed, and that steel did live.
Aleyn's King Henry VII.
In nature it is fear that makes us arm;
And fear by guilt is bred;
The guiltless nothing dread,
Defence not seeking, nor designing harm.
Sir W. Davenant.
Who is the happy warrior? who is he
That every man in arms should wish to be?
It is the generous spirit who hath wrought
Among the plans of real life.
-"Tis he whose law is reason; who depends
Upon that law as on his best of friends.
-Who if he rise to stations of command,
Rises by open means.―
-Who comprehends his trust, and to the same Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim.
camp to camp, through the foul womb of
night,
The hum of either army stilly sounds;
That the fix'd sentinels almost receive
The secret whispers of each other's watch.
Fire answers fire; and through their paly flames.
Dr. Johnson's Vanity of Human Wishes. Each battle sees the other's umber'd face.
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs,' And like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come
Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents, Our lusty English, all with purpled hands,
The armourers, accomplishing the knights, Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes.
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.
Remember whom you are to cope withal;
Shaks. Henry V. A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and run-aways.
A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants,
Whom their o'ercloy'd country vomits forth
To desperate ventures, and assur'd destruction.
Shaks. Richard III.
We are but warriors for the working day:
Our gayness, and our gilt, are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field.
There's not a piece of feather in our host,
(Good argument I hope we will not fly,)
And time has worn us into slovenry:
But by the mass, our hearts are in the trim.
Shaks. Henry V.
Why do you stay so long, my lords of France?
Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones,
Ill favour'dly become the morning field:
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them passing scornfully.
Shaks. Henry V.
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host,
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps.
The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks,
With torch-staves in their hand; and their poor
jades
Lob down their heads, drooping the hides and hips;
The gum down-roping from their pale dead eyes;
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit
Lies foul with chaw'd grass, still and motionless;
And their executors, the knavish crows,
Fly o'er them all impatient for their hour.
![[blocks in formation]](https://books.google.ro/books/content?id=VVxQAAAAMAAJ&hl=ro&output=html_text&pg=PA31&img=1&zoom=3&q=editions:ISBN0852442904&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U3QJ7INM7SLYTqNRec0BdxoW4Nxdg&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=500,364,424,209)
Upon mine honour, all too confident
To give admittance to a thought of fear.
Our battle is more full of names than yours,
Our men more perfect in the use of arms,
Our armour all as strong, our cause the best;
Then reason wills, our hearts should be as good
Shaks. Henry IV
All in a moment through the gloom were seen
Ten thousand banners rise into the air
With orient colours waving: With them rose
A forest huge of spears, and thronging helms
Appear'd, and serried shields in thick array
Of depth immeasurable.
Milton's Paradise Lost
Ten thousand ensigns high advanced,
Standards and gonfalons 'twixt van and rear
Stream in the air, and for distinction serve
Of hierarchies, of orders aud degrees;
Or in their glittering tissues bear emblazed
Holy memorials, acts of zeal and love
Shaks. Henry V.
Their armours, that march'd hence so silver-bright,
Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood;
There stuck no plume in any English crest,
That is removed by a staff of France;
Our colours do return in those same hands
That did display them when we first march d Recorded eminent.
forth;
A braver choice of dauntless spirits,
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er,
Did never float upon the swelling tide,
To do offence and scath in Christendom.
The interruption of their churlish drums
Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand.
Shaks. King John.
All the unsettled humours of the land,
Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,
With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens,
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes,
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here.
And though reduc'd to that extreme,
They have been forc'd to sing Te Deum;
Yet with religious blasphemy,
By flattering heaven with a lie,
And for their beating giving thanks,
Th' have rais'd recruits, and fill'd their ranks
Butler's Hudibras
Yet hark! what discords now, of every kind,
Shouts, laughs, and screams are revelling in the
wind!
The neigh of cavalry; the tinkling throngs
Of laden camels, and their drivers' songs.
Ringing of arms, and flapping in the breeze
Shaks. King John. Of streamers from ten thousand canopies;
|