CONSIDERATION - CONSTANCY.
We'll cut off any member, and condemn Virtue or folly for a diadem,
Banish religion, and make blood as cheap, As when two armies, turn'd into one heap Of carcasses, lye grov'ling: what care we For the slight tainture of disloyalty? None will commend the race till it be run,
I am constant as the northern star; Of whose true, fix'd and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament.
Shaks. Julius Cæsar. Sooner I'll think the sun would cease to cheer
And these are deeds, not prais'd till they are done. The teeming earth, and then forget to bear;
Robert Gomersall. Provide what money, and what arms you can; Who has the gold, shall never want the man. Baron's Merza.
Sooner that rivers would run back, or Thames With ribs of ice in June would bind his streams. Or nature, by whose strength the world endures, Would change her course before you alter yours. Jonson
My plots fall short, like darts, which rash hands It is a noble constancy you show
With an ill aim, and have too far to go; Nor can I long discoveries prevent,
I deal too much among the innocent.
Sir Robert Howard's Vestal Virgin.
Oh! think what anxious moments pass between The birth of plots, and their last fatal periods; Oh! 't is a dreadful interval of time, Fill'd up with horror, and big with death.
To this afflicted house: that not like others, The friends of season, you do follow fortune, And in the winter of their fate, forsake The place, whose glories warm'd you.
First shall the heav'n's bright lamp forget to shine, The stars shall from the azur'd sky decline: First shall the orient with the west shake hand, The centre of the world shall cease to stand: Addison's Cato. First wolves shall league with lambs, the dolphins fly,
Conspiracies no sooner should be form'd Than executed.
Like thunder-clouds, should in a moment form And strike, like lightning, ere the sound is heard.
Consideration like an angel came,
And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him Leaving his body as a paradise,
To envelope and contain celestial spirits.
Shaks. Henry V. No never from this hour to part,
Hang consideration! When this is spent, is not our ship the same, Our courage too the same, to fetch in more? The earth, where it is fertilest, returns not More than three harvests, while the glorious sun Posts through the zodiac, and makes up the year. But the sea, which is our mother (that embraces Both the rich Indies in her outstretch'd arms,) Yields every day a crop if we dare reap it. No, no, my mates, let tradesmen think of thrift, And usurers hoard up; let our expense Be as our comings in are, without bounds.
CONTEMPLATION-CONTEMPT-CONTENT.
The love that is kept in the beauty of trust,
Cannot pass like the foam from the seas,
Or a mark that the finger hath trac'd in the dust, There is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy
Where 't is swept by the breath of the breeze.
There is nothing but death
Our affections can sever,
And till life's latest breath Love shall bind us for ever.
No chemic art can counterfeit; It makes men rich in greatest poverty, Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold, The homely whistle to sweet music's strain; Seldom it comes, to few from heaven sent,
Percival. That much in little — all in naught― content.
Thomas Ford's Love's Labyrinth Oh calm, hush'd, rich content,
Is there a being, blessedness, without thee? How soft thou down'st the couch where thou dost
Nectar to life, thou sweet ambrosian feast.
Maston's first part of Antonio and Mellida. Yet oft we see that some in humble state Are cheerful, pleasant, happy, and content: When those indeed that are of higher state, With vain additions do their thoughts torment. Lady Carew's Mariam.
Pursues contentment! 'Tis the soul of action, And the propounded reason of our life.
Sweetens all suff'rings of th' afflicted sense,
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Those that are bred in labour think it sport, Did scowl on Richard.
Nabb's Tottenham Court. Each good mind doubles his own free content, When in another's use they give it vent. Sir Giles Goosecap
I swear, 't is better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.
Shaks. Henry VIII. Poor and content, is rich and rich enough; But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
Shaks. Othello My crown is in my heart, not on my head; Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian stones, Nor to be seen: my crown is call'd content; A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy. Shaks. Henry VI. Part III
To him who much desires. Thrice happy he To whom the wise indulgency of heaven, With sparing hand, but just enough has given.
Cellars and granaries in vain we fill With all the bounteous summer's store, If the mind thirst and hunger still: The poor rich man's emphatically poor. Slaves to the things we too much prize, We masters grow of all that we despise.
The cynic hugs his poverty,
The pelican her wilderness;
And 'tis the Indian's pride to be Naked on frozen Caucasus:
Contentment cannot smart; stoics, we see, Make torments easy to their apathy.
O may I with myself agree, And never covet what I see; Content me with an humble shade, My passions tam'd, my wishes laid; For while our wishes wildly roll, We banish quiet from the soul; 'Tis then the busy beat the air, And misers gather wealth and care.
I've trac'd thee on the peasant's cheek; I've mark'd thee in the milkmaid's smi.e; I've heard thee loudly laugh and speak, Amid the sons of want and toil; Yet in the circles of the great, Where fortune's gifts are all combin'd, I've sought thee early, sought thee late, And ne'er thy lovely form could find. Since then from wealth and pomp you flee, I ask but competence and thee!
Lady Manners Life's but a short chase; our game-content. Which most pursued, is most compell'd to fly: And he that mounts him on the swiftest hope, Shall soonest run his courser to a stand; While the poor peasant from some distant hill, Undanger'd and at ease, views all the sport, And sees content take shelter in his cottage. Cibber's Richard III
Her poverty was glad; her heart content, Nor knew she what the spleen or vapours meant Dryden.
Contentment parent of delight, So much a stranger to our sight,
Say, goddess in what happy place, Mortals behold thy blooming face; Anon. Thy gracious auspices impart,
And for thy temple choose my heart, They whom thou deignest to inspire, Thy science learn, to bound desire; By happy alchymy of mind,
They turn to pleasure all they find.
The bliss of man (could pride that blessing find) Is not to act or think beyond mankind
Dyer's Grongar Hill. No pow'rs of body or of soul to share,
But what his nature and his state can bear Why has not man a microscopic eye? For this plain reason-man is not a fly. Say for what use were finer optics given
T" inspect a mite, not comprehend the heav'n'
Or touch, if tremblingly alive all o'er,
To smart and agonize at ev'ry pore?
Or quick effluvia darting through the brain,
Die of a rose in aromatic pain?
If nature thund'red in his op'ning ears, And stunn'd him with the music of the spheres, How would he wish that heaven had left him still The whisp'ring zephyr, and the purling rill? Who finds not providence all good and wise, Alike in what it gives and what denies.
Honour and shame from no condition rise; Act well your part, there all the honour lies. Fortune in men has some small difference made, One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade; The cobler apron'd, and the parson gown'd, The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd. "What differ more," you cry, "than crown and cowl,"
1 11 tell you, friend!—a wise man and a fool. You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk, Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk, Worth makes the man and want of it the fellow; The rest is all but leather or prunella.
Pope's Essay on Man. Cease then, nor order imperfection name: Our proper bliss depends on what we blame. Know thy own point; this kind, this due degree Of blindness, weakness, heav'n bestows on thee. Submit-in this or any other sphere, Secure to be as bless'd as thou canst bear.
Pope's Essay on Man. As in those domes, where Cæsars once bore sway, Defac'd by time, and tott'ring in decay, There in the ruin, heedless of the dead, The shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed; And wondering man could want a larger pile, Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile. Goldsmith's Traveller.
He, fairly looking into life's account, Saw frowns and favours were of like amount; And viewing all—his perils, prospects, purse, He said, "content; -'t is well it is no worse."
Then in a kiss she breath'd her various arts, Of trifling prettily with wounded hearts; A mind for love, but still a changing mind, The lisp affected, and the glance design'd; The sweet confusing blush, the secret wink, The gentle swimming walk, the courteous sink; The stare for strangeness fit, for scorn the frown For decent yielding, looks declining down; The practis'd languish, where well-feign'd desire Would own its melting in a mutual fire; Gay smiles to comfort; April showers to move;
And all the nature, all the art of love.
From loveless youth to unrespected age No passion gratified, except her rage, So much the fury still outran the wit, The pleasure mist her, and the scandal hit. Pope's Moral Essays.
There affectation, with a sickly mien, Shows in her cheeks the roses of eighteen, Practis'd to lisp, and hang the head aside, Faints into airs, and languishes with pride: On the rich quilt sinks with becoming woe, Wrapt in a gown, for sickness and for show. Pope's Rape of the Lock. Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose, Quick as her eyes, and as unfix'd as those; Favours to none, to all she smiles extends, Oft she rejects, but never once offends. Bright as the sun her eyes the gazers strike, And, like the sun, they shine on all alike. Pope's Rape of the Lock Sce how the world its veterans rewards! A youth of frolics, an old age of cards; Fair to no purpose, artful to no end; Young without lovers, old without a friend; A fop their passion, but their prize a sot; Alive, ridiculous; and dead, forgot!
Nymph of the mincing mouth and languid eye, And lisping tongue so soft, and head awry, And flutt'ring heart, of leaves of aspen made; Who were thy parents, blushful virgin?—say; Perchance dame Folly gave thee to the day, With Gaffer Ignorance's aid.
Dr. Wolcot's Peter Pindar. Now Laura moves along the joyous crowd, Smiles in her eyes, and simpers on her lips; To some she whispers, others speaks aloud, To some she curtsies, and to some she dips.
Byron's Beppo. Such is your cold coquette, who can't say “no;" And won't say "yes," and keeps you on and offing On a lee shore, till it begins to blow;
Then sees your heart wreck'd with an inward
Would he were fatter:- But I fear him not: Yet if my name were liable to fear,
I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius.
Shaks. Julius Cæsar. Let me have men about me that are fat, Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights: Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much; such men are dangerous. Shaks. Julius Cæsar
Now Falstaff sweats to death. And lards the lean earth as he walks along: Were 't not for laughing I should pity him. Shaks. Henry IV. Part I Still she strains the aching clasp
That binds her virgin zone; I know it hurts her, though she looks
As cheerful as she can,
Her waist is larger than her life
For life is but a span.
« ÎnapoiContinuă » |