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For highest looks have not the highest mind,

Nor baughty words most full of highest thought;
But are like bladders blown up with the wind,
That being prick'd evanish into nought.

SPENSER's Fairy Queen.
Who knows himself a braggart,
Let him fear this; for it will come to pass
That ev'ry braggart shall be found an ass.

Here's a large mouth, indeed,
That spits forth death, and mountains, rocks, and seas;
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions,
As maids of thirteen do of puppy dogs.

What art thou ? Have not I
An arm as big as thine ? a heart as big ?
Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not
My dagger in my mouth.

We rise in glory, as we sink in pride ;
Where boasting ends, there dignity begins.

Young's Night Thoughts
For men, it is reported, dash and vapour
Less on the field of battle than on paper;
Thus, in the history of each dire campaign,
More carnage leads the newspaper than plain.

Dr. Wolcot's Peter Pindar


Books are a part of man's prerogative;

In formal ink they thought and voices hold;
That we to them our solitude may give,
And make time present travel that of old.




"Tis in books the chief Of all perfections, to be plain and brief.

BUTIER. 'T were well with most, if books, that could engage Their childhood, pleas'd them at a riper age ; The man approving what had charm'd the boy Would die at last in comfort, peace and joy ; And not with curses on his art, who stole The gem of truth from his unguarded soul.

CowPER. What is it but a map of busy life, Its fluctuations and its vast concerns ?

CowPER. Books should to one of these four ends conduce, For wisdom, piety, delight, or use.

DENHAM The printed part, tho' far too large, is less Than that which, yet unprinted, waits the press.

From the Spanish. The Past but lives in words: a thousand ages Were blank, if books had not evok'd their ghosts, And kept the pale, unbodied shades to warn us From fleshless lips.

Bulwer's Cromwell. 'T is pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print; A book 's a book, altho' there's nothing in 't.

Byron's English Bards and Scotch Revieu's. Turn to the press—its teeming sheets survey, Big with the wonders of each passing day ; Births, deaths, and weddings, forgeries, fires and wrecks. Harangues and hailstones, brawls and broken necks.

CHARLES SPRAGUE's Curiosity. 'Twas heaven to lounge upon a couch, said Gray, And read new novels through a rainy day.


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Trade hardly deems the busy day begun,
Till his keen eye along the sheet has run;
The blooming daughter throws her needle by,
And reads her schoolmate's marriage with a sigh:
While the grave mother puts her glasses on,
And gives a tear to some old crone that's gone.
The preacher, too, his Sunday theme lays down,
To know what last new folly fills the town;
Lively or sad, life's meanest, mightiest things,
The fate of fighting cocks, or fighting kings.

See tomes on tomes, of fancy and of power,
To cheer man's heaviest, warın his holiest hour.

Turn back the tide of ages to its head,
And hoard the wisdom of the honour'd dead.

Newspaper! who has never felt the pleasure that it brings ?
It always tells us of so many strange and wondrous things!
It makes us weep at tales of wo — - it fills our hearts with

mirthIt tells us of the price of stock - how much produce is

worthAnd when, and where, and how, and why, strange things

occur on earth. Has war's loud clarion callid to arms ? — has lightning

struck a tree ?Has Jenkins broke his leg?

- or has there been a storm at sea ? Has the sea-serpent shown his head ?—a comet's tail been

seen? Or has some heiress with her groom run off to Gretna

Green ?All this, and many wonders more, you from this shect may glean.





In war, was never lion's rage so fierce ;
In peace, was never gentle lamb more mild.

In struggling with misfortune lies the proof
Of virtue.

SHAKSPEARE. Pr’ythee, peace : I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is none.

SHAKSPEARE. His valour, shown upon our crests to-day, Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds, Even in the bosom of our adversary.

SHAKSPEARE. But screw your courage to the sticking place, And we'll not fail.

SHAKSPEARE. What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the ungovernable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield, And what is else not to be overcome.

Milton's Paradise Lost. Let fortune empty all her quiver on me, I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more.

DRYDEN. For, as we see the eclipsed sun By mortals is more gazed upon, Than when, adorn'd with all his light, He shines in serene sky most bright, So valour, in a low estate, Is more admir'd and wonder'd at.

BUTLER'S Hudibrar.


He that is valiant, and dares fight,
Though drubb’d, can lose no honour by 't.

Butler's Huditras.
'Tis not now who's stout and bold ?
But who bears hunger best, and cold ?
And he's approv'd the most deserving,
Who longest can hold out at starving.

BUTLER'S Hudibras. How sleep the brave, who sink to rest With all their country's honour blest !

COLLINS. To a mind resolv'd and wise, There is an impotence in misery, Which makes me smile, while all its shafts are in me.

Young's Revenge True fortitude is seen in great exploits That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides ; All else is tow'ring frenzy and distraction.

ADDISON's Cat? The wise and active conquer difficulties, By daring to attempt them; sloth and folly Shiver and sink at sights of toil and hazard, And make the impossibility they fear.

Rowe. The brave man is not he who feels no fear; For that were stupid and irrational; But he whose noble soul its fear subdues, And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from.

JOANNA BAILLIE. C'naw'd by power, and unappallid by fear.

GOLDSMITH. Let angry ocean to the sky

In proud disdain his billows roll; Let thunder to his threats replyFear is a stranger to my soul.


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