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Why should'st thou, but for some felonious end,
In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars,
That nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps
With everlasting oil to give due light
To the misled and lonely traveller?



WHAT boot your houses and your lands?
In spite of close-drawn deed and fence,
Like water 'twixt your cheated hands,
They sink into the graveyard's sands,
And mock your ownership's pretence.





Your lands, with force or cunning got,
Shrink to the measure of the grave:
But Death himself abridges not
The tenures of almighty thought,

The titles of the wise and brave.

J. R Lowell.


SOME know no joy like that a word can raise,
Haul'd through a language's perplexing maze;
Till on a mate that seems t'agree they light,
Like man and wife that still are opposite;
Not lawyers at the bar play more with sense,
When brought to their last trope of eloquence,
Than they on every subject, great or small,
At clubs or councils, at a church or ball;
Then cry we rob them of their tributes due;
Alas! how can we laugh and pity too?-Stillingfleet.

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




THE man who knows

What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose
But must be, will his free hours languish out
For assured bondage.


I priz'd every hour that went by,

Beyond all that had pleas'd me before;
But now they are pass'd, and I sigh,
And I grieve that I priz'd them no more.
But why do I languish in vain?

Why wander thus pensively here?
O, why did I come from the plain,
Where I fed on the smiles of my dear?


GENTLE or sharp, according to their choice,
To laugh at follies, or to lash at vice.

Gone, gone-sold and gone

To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
There no mother's eye is near them,
There no mother's ear can hear them;
Never, when the torturing lash
Seams their backs with many a gash,
Shall a mother's kindness bless them,
Or a mother's arms caress them.






O, BOY! thy father gave thee life too soon,
And hath bereft thee of thy life too late.-Shakspere.

Your gift is princely, but it comes too late,
And falls like sunbeams on a blasted blossom.


He laughs at all the giddy terms of state,
When mortals search too soon and fear too late.


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EGNATIUS has fine teeth, and those
Eternally Egnatius shows.
Some criminal is being tried
For murder, and they open wide.
A widow wails her only son;
Widow and him they open on.
'Tis a disease, I'm very sure,
And wish 't were such as you could cure,
My good Egnatius! for what's half
So silly as a silly laugh?


Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper;
And others of such vinegar aspect,

That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.


Sport, that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter, holding both his sides. Milton.

See Tityas, with merriment possest,
Is burst with laughter, ere he hears the jest;
What need he stay? for when the joke is o'er
His teeth will be no whiter than before.

Let no man charge me that I mean
To clothe in sable every social scene,
And give good company a face severe,
As if they met around a father's bier;
But tell some men, that pleasure all their bent,
And laughter all their work, is life misspent.


Then must I plunge again into the crowd
Where revel calls, and laughter, vainly loud,
False to the heart, distorts the hollow cheek,
To leave the flagging spirit doubly weak.


Our sincerest laughter

With some pain is fraught.





TELL Physic of her boldness;
Tell Skill it is pretension;
Tell Charity of coldness;

Tell Law it is contention.-Sir W. Raleigh.

Law does not put the least restraint
Upon our freedom, but maintain 't;
Or, if it does, 't is for our good,
To give us freer latitude;

For wholesome laws preserve us free,
By stinting of our liberty.


There is no danger to a man that knows
What life and death is: there's not any law
Exceeds his knowledge; neither is it lawful
That he should stoop to any other law.

Each state must have its policies:
Kingdoms have edicts, cities have their charters.
Even the wild outlaw, in his forest walk,
Keeps yet some touch of civil discipline;
For not since Adam wore his verdant apron,
Hath man with man in social union dwelt,
But laws were made to draw that union closer.
Old Play.


O let me pierce the secret shade,
Where dwells the venerable maid!
There humbly mark, with reverend awe,
The guardian of Britannia's law;
Unfold with joy her sacred page,
(The united boast of many an age,)
Where, mix'd yet uniform, appears
The wisdom of a thousand years;

And other doctrines thence imbibe
Than lurk within the sordid scribe.


Sir William Blackstone. Are not our laws alike for high and low? Or shall we bind the poor man in his fetters, And let the rich go revel in his crimes?

Charles West Thomson.

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A bunch of grapes sprung up among the thorns;
Where, but by caution, none the harm can miss:
Nor art's true riches read to understand,
But shall, to please his taste, offend his hand.
Lord Brooke.

Learning is an addition beyond
Nobility of birth: honour of blood,
Without the ornament of knowledge, is
A glorious ignorance.

A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not, the Pierian spring;
For shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
And drinking deeply sobers us again.

J. Shirley.

'Tis thus to man the voice of nature spake:—
Go, from the creatures thy instruction take.
Learn from the birds what food the thickets yield;
Learn from the beasts the physic of the field;
The art of building from the bee receive;
Learn of the mole to plough, the worm to weave;
Learn of the little nautilus to sail,
Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale."


Learning by study must be won;
'Twas ne'er entail'd from sire to son.


How empty learning, and how vain is art,
But as it mends the life, and guides the heart.



Learning, that cobweb of the brain,
Profane, erroneous, and vain:
A trade of knowledge, as replete
As others are with fraud and cheat;
An art to encumber gifts and wit,
And render both for nothing fit.


He learn'd the arts of riding, fencing, gunnery, And how to scale a fortress or-a nunnery.-Byron

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