Flatt'ry, the food of courts! that I may rock him, And lull him in down of his desires.
The firmest purpose of a woman's heart To well-tim'd, artful flattery may yield.
There are, who to my person pay their court; I cough like Horace, and, though lean, am short Ammon's great son one shoulder had too high, Beaumont's Rolla. Such Ovid's nose, and, sir! you have an eye! Go on, obliging creature, make me see, All that disgrac'd my betters, met in me; Say, for my comfort, languishing in bed, Just so immortal Maro held his head; And when I die, be sure you let me know, Great Homer died three thousand years ago. Pope's Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot
Parent of wicked, bane of honest deeds, Pernicious flattery! thy malignant seeds, In an ill hour, and by a fatal hand, Sadly diffus'd o'er virtue's gleby land, With rising pride amidst the corn appear, And choke the hopes and harvest of the year. Prior's Soloman. No flattery, boy! an honest man can't live by 't: It is a little sneaking art, which knaves Use to cajole and soften fools withal.
If thou hast flatt'ry in thy nature, out with 't; Or send it to a court, for there 't will thrive. Otway's Orphan. Let me be grateful; but let far from me Be fawning cringe, and false dissembling look, And servile flattery, that harbours oft In courts and gilded roofs.
Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came, And the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame; Till his relish grown callous, almost to disease, Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please. Goldsmith's Retaliation.
To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering, When they judg'd without skill he was still hard of hearing;
Philips's Cider. When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Correggios and
O flatt'ry! How soon thy smooth insinuating oil Supples the toughest fool!
Beware of flattery, 't is a weed Which oft offends the very idol-vice, Whose shrine it would perfume.
He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff. Goldsmith's Retaliation. Flatt'ry but ill becomes a soldier's mouth; Leave we the practice of those meaner arts To smooth-tongued statesmen, and betraying cour- tiers. Marsh's Amasis.
His fiery temper brooks not opposition, And must be met with soft and supple arts, With crouching courtesy, and honey'd words, Such as assuage the fierce, and bend the strong. Rowe's Lady Jane Grey. Minds,
By nature great, are conscious of their greatness, And hold it mean to borrow aught from flattery. Rowe's Royal Convert.
Of folly, vice, disease, men proud we see, And (stranger still!) of blockhead's flattery, Whose praise defames; as if a fool should mean, By spitting on your face, to make it clean.
'Tis an old maxim in the schools, That flattery's the food of fools, Yet now and then you men of wit Will condescend to take a bit.
No adulation; 't is the death of virtue! Who flatters is of all mankind the lowest, Save he who courts the flatterer.
I pass through flattery's gilded sieve Whatever I would say.
Alas! the praise given to the ear Ne'er was nor ne'er can be sincere.
I would give worlds, could I believe One half that is profess'd me; Affection! could I think it Thee, When Flattery has caress'd me.
Oh! it is worse than mockery To list the flatterer's tone,
Swift's Cadenus and Vanessa. To lend a ready ear to thoughts
Sirs, adulation is a fatal thing- Rank poison for a subject, or a king.
Dr. Wolcot's Peter Pindar.
The cheek must blush to own -- To hear the red lip whisper'd of, And the flowing curl and eye
Sea without shore; and in their palaces Where luxury late reign'd, sea monsters whelp'd And stabled, of mankind so numerous late, All left, in one small bottom swum embark'd. Milton's Paradise Lost. Then came the thunder peal once more, And the shrieking wind and the ocean roar,— And the gallopping waves on the crumbling shore,
And the muttering earthquake's groan!' Then the sea rose up with a sudden swell, And the heavy clouds unbroken fell;- Till over each valley, and plain, and dell, The sea, like a pall, was thrown!
As I do live by food, I met a fool,
Who laid him down, and bask'd him in the sun, Who rail'd on lady fortune in good terms, In good set terms - and yet a motley fool. Shaks. As you like it
Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune:
And then he drew a dial from his poke;
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says, very wisely, it is ten o'clock:
Our wise forefathers, born in sober days, Resign'd to fools the tart and witty phrase; The motley coat gave warning for the jest, Excus'd the wound, and sanctified the pest; But we from high to low all strive to sneer, Will all be wits, and not the livery wear.
"Out, thou silly moon-struck elf; Back, poor fool, and hide thyself!" This is what the wise ones say, Should the idiot cross their way:
Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags: But if we would closely mark,
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine; And after an hour more 't will be eleven; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe, and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot, and rot, And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear The motley fool thus moral on the time, My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative; And I did laugh, sans intermission, An hour by his dial-O noble fool!
A worthy fool! motley's the only wear.
We should see him not all dark; We should find we must not scorn The teachings of the idiot-born.
Art thou great as man can be? — The same hand moulded him and thee. Hast thou talent? - Taunt and jeer Must not fall upon his ear.
Spurn him not; the blemish'd part Had better be the head than heart. Thou wilt be the fool to scorn
Shaks. As you like it. The teaching of the idiot-born.
I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please; for so fools have: And they that are most galled with my folly, They most must laugh: and why, sir, must
The why is plain as way to parish church: He, that a fool doth very wisely hit, Doth very foolishly, although he smart, Not to seem senseless of the bob; if not, The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool. Shaks. As you like it. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool; And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit. Shaks. Twelfth Night.
And such a crafty devil as his mother Should yield the world this ass! a woman, that Bears all down with her brain; and this her son Cannot take two from twenty for his heart, And leave eighteen.
Nothing exceeds in ridicule, no doubt, A fool in fashion, but a fool that's out; His passion for absurdity's so strong, He cannot bear a rival in the wrong. Though wrong the mode, comply: more sense is shown
In wearing others' follies than our own.
Eliza Cook. What matter though the scorn of fools be given, If the path follow'd lead us on to heaven!
Fill with Forgetfulness, fill high! yet stay- -'Tis from the past we shadow forth the land Where smiles, long lost, again shall light our way, -Though the past haunt me as a spirit,—yet I ask not to forget! Mrs. Hemans. When I forget that the stars shine in air— When I forget that beauty is in stars- When I forget that love with beauty is Will I forget thee: till then all things else. If e'er I win a parting token, Bailey's Festus
'Tis something that has lost its power- A chain that has been used and broken, A ruin'd glove, a faded flower; Something that makes my pleasure less, Something that means—forgetfulness.
Snatch the first moment of forgetfulness To wander like a restless child away' ?
Soon his heart relented
Towards her, his life so late and sole delight, Now at his feet submissive in distress,
Willis's Poems. Creature so fair his reconcilement seeking, His counsel whom she had displeas'd, his aid: As one disarm'd, his anger all he lost, And thus with peaceful words uprais'd her soon. Milton's Paradise Lost.
O, what form of prayer Can serve any turn? Forgive me my foul murder!- That cannot be; since I am still possess'd Of those effects for which I did the murder, My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. Shaks. Hamlet.
I'll not chide thee: Der shame come when it will, I do not call it; I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove : Mend when thou cans't; be better at thy leisure. Shaks. King Lear. Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange pow'r After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd; nor can be easily Repuls'd, without much inward passion felt, And secret sting of amorous remorse.
Milton's Samson Agonistes. He added not, and from her turn'd; but Eve Not so repuls'd, with tears that ceas'd not flowing, And tresses all disorder'd, at his feet Fell humble, and embracing them, besought
Let us no more contend, nor blame Each other, blam'd enough elsewhere, but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten Each other's burden, in our share of woe.
Fall at his feet; cling round his reverend knees; Speak to him with thy eyes; and with thy tears Melt his cold heart, and wake dead nature in him: Crush him in thy arms; torture him with thy softness:
Nor till thy prayers are granted, set him free. Otway's Venice Preserved.
Thou shalt not force me from thee: Use me reproachfully, and like a slave: Tread on me, buffet me, heap wrongs on wrongs On my poor head: I'll bear it all with patience, Shall weary out thy most unfriendly cruelty: Lie at thy feet, and kiss them, though they spurn
Till wounded by my sufferings thou relent, And raise me to thy arms with dear forgiveness. Otway's Venice Preserved, Great souls forgive not injuries till time Has put their enemies into their power, That they may show forgiveness is their own Dryden's Duke of Guise. Thy narrow soul Knows not the godlike glory of forgiving; Nor can thy cold, thy ruthless heart conceive How large the pow'r, how fix'd the empire is, Which benefits confer on generous minds: Goodness prevails upon the stubborn foes, And conquers more than ever Cæsar's sword did. Rowe's Lady Jane Grey.
While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps, "Tis easier for the generous to forgive, Between us two let there be peace.
Milton's Paradise Lost. Forsake me not thus, Adam, witness heaven What love sincere, and reverence in my heart I bear thee, and unweeting have offended, Unhappily deceiv'd! thy suppliant,
I beg, and clasp thy knees; bereave me not, Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid, Tny counsel in this uttermost distress, My only strength and stay: forlorn of thee, Whither shall I betake me, where subsist? Milton's Paradise Lost.
Than for offence to ask it.
Thomson's Edmund and Eleonora. Young men soon give, and soon forget affronts; Old age is slow in both.
One of you all that ever from my presence I have with sadden'd heart unkindly sent, I here, in meek repentance, of him crave A brother's hand, in token of forgiveness.
Joanna Baillie's Constantine Paleologus
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be drest in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; As who should say, I am sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark! Shaks. Merchant of Venice. Lord Angelo is precise; Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses That his blood flows, or that his appetite Is more to bread than stone.
Shaks. Mea. for Mea. Oh, I see thee old and formal, fitted to thy petty
Yet well thy soul hath brook'd the turning tide With that untaught innate philosophy, Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride, Is gall and wormwood to an enemy.
When the whole host of hatred stood hard by, To watch and mock thee shrinking, thou hast smiled
With a sedate and all-enduring eye;
When fortune fled her spoil'd and favourite child, He stood unbow'd beneath the ills upon him piled. Byron's Childe Harold. Existence may be borne, and the deep root Of life and sufferance make its firm abode In base and desolated bosoms: mute The camel labours with the heaviest load, And the wolf dies in silence: not bestow'd In vain should such example be; if they, Things of ignoble or of savage mood, Endure and shrink not, we of nobler clay May temper it to bear-it is but for a day. Byron's Childe Harold. Gird your hearts with silent fortitude, Suffering yet hoping all things.
Of Nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast, And with the half-blown rose: but fortune, O! She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee. Shaks. King John
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