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Others for language all their care express,
And value books, as women men, for dress ;
Their praise is still—“The style is excellent,"
The sense they humbly take upon content.

Pope's Essay on Criticisme
True ease, in writing, comes from art, not chance,
As those move easiest who have learn’d to dance.

Pope's Essay on Criticism
Talk as you will of taste, my friend, you 'll find
Two of a face, as soon as of a mind.

POPE's Imitations.
Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ,
The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.

A man must serve his time at ev'ry trade,
Save censure; critics all are ready-made:
Take hackney'd jokes from Miller, got by rote,
With just enough of learning to misquote;
A mind well skill'd to forge or find a fault,
A turn for punning--cail it Attic salt-
Fear not to lie—'t will seem a lucky hit ;
Shrink not from blasphemy-'t will pass for wit;
Care not for feeling, pass your project jest,
And stand a critic, hated yet caress'd.

Byron's English Bards, &.c.
Applauds to-day what yesterday he curst,
Lampoons the wisest, and extols the worst ;
While, hard to tell, so coarse a daub he lays,
Which sullies most, the slander or the praise.

SPRAGUE's Curiosity


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A stoay adversary, an inhuman wretch,
Incapable of pity, void and empty
From every drachm of mercy.

The poor beetle, that we tread upon,
In corporal suffering feels a pang as great
As when a giant dies.

SHAKSPEARE. Do not insult calamity; It is a barbarous grossness to lay on The weight of scorn, where heavy misery Too much already weighs men's fortunes down.

DANIEL. Thou shalt behold him stretch'd in all the agonies Of a tormenting and a shameful death! His bleeding bowels, and his broken limbs, Insulted o'er by a vile butchering villain.

Orway's Venice Preserved. Bring forth the rack: Fetch hither cords, and knives, and sulphurous flames; He shall be bound and gash’d, his skin fleec’d, burnt alive ; He shall be hours, days, years, a-dying!

Nat. LEE. Wire-draw his skin, spin all his nerves like hair, And work his tortur'd flesh as thin as flame.

Nat. LEE. I reverence the coachman who cries “ Gee,” And spares the lash. When I behold a spider Prey on a fly, a magpie on a worm, Or view a butcher, with horn-handled knife, Slaughter a tender lamb as dead as muttonIndeed, indeed, I'm very, very sick!

Rejected Addresses



The savage brute, that haunts in woods remote,
And deserts wild, tears not the fearful traveller,
If hunger, or some injury, provoke not.


Oh! rather fail this ardent breath,
And palsied sink this hand in death,
Ere with keen taunt and lingering blow
I hover o'er a fallen foe!

Mrs. Holford's Margaret of Anjou
His was the sternest, hardest breast
That ever burnish'd cuirass press'd.

Mrs. Holford's Margaret of Anjou,
Thy suing to these men were as the bleating
Of the lamb to the butcher, or the

Of seamen to the surge.

Byron's Marino Faliero

And ponder still
On rangs that longest rack, and latest kill.

BYRON'S Corsair.

A saint had cried out,
Even with the crown of glory in his eyes,
At such inhuman artifice of pain
As was forc'd on him.

Byron's Two Foscari.

Nurtur'd in blood betimes, his heart delights
In vengeance gloating on another's pain.

BYRON'S Childe Harold

Humanity is policy in war,
And cruelty's a prodigal, that hcaps
A suicidal burthen on itself.

Dawes' Athenia of Damascus

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I loathe that low vice, Curiosity.

Byron's Don Juan. Since that first fatal hour when Eve,

With all the fruits of Eden blest,
Save only one, rather than leave
That one unknown, lost all the rest.

Moore's Loves of the Angels.
It reign'd in Eden, in that heavy hour
When the arch-tempter sought our mother's bower,
In thrilling charms her yielding heart assail'd,
And even o'er dread Jehovah's word prevailid.

Sprague's Curiosity. 'Tis Curiosity-who hath not felt Its spirit, and before its altar knelt?

SPRAGUE's Curiosity. Be it a bonfire, or a city's blaze, The gibbet's victim, or the nation's gaze, A female atheist, or a learned dog, A monstrous pumpkin, or a mammoth hog, A murder, or a muster ;-'t is the same, Life's follies, glories, griefs,-all feed the flame.

SPRAGUE's Curiosity. Sport drops his ball, Toil throws his hammer by, Thrift breaks a bargain off, to please his eye.

SPRAGUE's Curiosity How many a noble art, now widely known, Owes its young impulse to this power alone!

SPRAGUE's Curiosity As down the pane the rival rain-drops chase, Curious he'll watch to see which wins the race; And let two dogs beneath his window fight, He'll shut his Bible to enjoy the sight.

SPRAGUE'. Curiosuly.


How thro' the buzzing crowd he threads his way,
To catch the flying rumours of the day.

SPRAGUE's Curiosity.


May all th' infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, upon him fall, and make him
By inch-meal a disease !

Poison be their drink !
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest meat they taste !
Their softest touch as smart as lizard's stings !
Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss !
And boding screech-owls make their concerts full !

SHAKSPEARE. May sorrow, shame, and sickness overtake her, And all her beauties, like my hopes, be blasted !

Rowe. Let the world


dark, That the extinguish'd sun may hide thy shame!

AARON HILL And when life declines, May thy sure heirs stand tittring round thy bed, And, ush'ring in their fav'rites, burst thy locks, And ill their laps with gold, till want and care With joy depart, and cry, “ We want no more !"

SHENSTONE. May the grass

wither from thy feet! the woods Deny thee shelter! earth a home! the dust A grave! and heaven her God !

Byron's Cinn. So let him stand, through ages yet unborn, Fix'd statue on the pedestal of scorn!

Byron's Curse of Minerva

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