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These can lie,
BUTLER'S Hudibras See how he sets his countenance for deceit, And promises a lie before he speaks.
'Tis the curse of kings,
Brook's Earl of Warwick.
T'HOMSON. To shake with laughter, ere the jest they hear, To pour, at will, the counterfeited tear; And, as their patron hints the cold or heat, To shake in dog-days, in December sweat.
DR. JOHNSON. A lazy, proud, unprofitable crew, The vermin gender'd from the rank corruption Of a luxurious state.
CUMBERLAND. A mere court butterfly, That flutters in the pageant of a monarch.
Byron's Sardanapalus And none did love him—though to hall and bower
He gather'd followers from far and near; He knew them flatterers of the festal hour, The heartless parasites of present cheer.
BYRON's Childe Harold.
Bring, therefore, all the forces that you may,
And lay incessant battery to her heart ;
So well he woo'd her, and so well he wrought her,
With fair entreaty and sweet blandishment,
So that she to his speeches was content
Spenser's Fairy Queen.
SHIRLEY There is, sir, a critical minute in Every man's wooing, when his mistress may Be won, which if he carelessly neglect To prosecute, he may wait long enough Before he gains the like opportunity.
MARMYAN. She is beautiful, therefore to be woo'd; She is woman, therefore to be won.
SHAKSPEARE. Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces; Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces. That man that has a tongue, I say, is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
SHAKSPEARE. Say that she rail; why then I'll tell her plain, She sings as sweetly as the nightingale ; Say that she frown; I'll say, she looks as clear As morning roses newly wash'd with dew; Say she be mute, and will not speak a word ; Then I'll commend her volubility, And say, she uttereth piercing eloquence.
SHIAKSPEARE. But tho' I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not ; And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man; Or, that we women had men's privilege Of speaking first.
In these ars of mine,
THOMSON He that would win his dame, must do As Love does when he draws his bow; With one hand thrust the lady from, And with the other pull her home.
Butler's Hudibras For, you must know, a widow's won With brisk attempt and putting on; With ent'ring manfully, and urging, Not slow approaches, like a virgin.
BUTLER's Hudibras. She most attracts who longest can refuse.
A ARON HILL. With easy
freedom and a gay address, A pressing lover seldom wants success.
Rowe A witty, wild, inconstant, free gallant.
Rowe. To me he came; my heart with rapture sprung, To see the blushes, when his faltering tongue First said, I love. My eyes consent reveal, And plighted vows our faithful passion seal.
Gay's Dione, So, with decorum all things carried, Miss frown'd, and blush'd, and then was married.
GOLDSMITH. She half consents who silently denies.
Ovid. Mer dream in courtship. but in wedlock wake.
Like a lovely tree
Byron's Don Jurn. The gentle pressure and the thrilling touch.
BYRON'S Don Juan To pick up gloves, and fans, and knitting-needles, And list for songs and tunes, and watch for smiles, And smile at pretty prattle, and look into The eyes of maids as tho' they were bright stars.
BYRON But yet she listen’d—'t is enough
Who listens once will listen twice,
Her heart, be sure, is not of ice, And one refusal's no rebuff.
Byron's Mazeppa Then thro' my brain the thought did pass,
Even as a flash of lightning there,
Byron's Mazeppa. Skill'd in the ogle of a roguish eye.
Byron's Childe Harold. Not much he kens, I ween, of woman's breast, Who thinks that wanton thing is won by sighs. Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes, But not too humbly, or she will despise : Disguise even tenderness, if thou art wise.
BYRON'S Childe Harold. In whispers low, And sweet as softest music's gentle flow, The lovers spoke.
Mrs. Howe. Whue the dimple and blush, starting soft to her cheek, Told the tale that her tongue was too timid to speak.