Chapter 203 of 399 · 972 words · ~5 min read

Part iii

. Line 180._

What dire offence from amorous causes springs! What mighty contests rise from trivial things!

_The Rape of the Lock. Canto i. Line 1._

And all Arabia breathes from yonder box.

_The Rape of the Lock. Canto i. Line 134._

On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore Which Jews might kiss, and infidels adore.

_The Rape of the Lock. Canto ii. Line 7._

If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face, and you 'll forget them all.

_The Rape of the Lock. Canto ii. Line 17._

Fair tresses man's imperial race insnare, And beauty draws us with a single hair.[326-1]

_The Rape of the Lock. Canto ii. Line 27._

Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey, Dost sometimes counsel take--and sometimes tea.

_The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 7._

At every word a reputation dies.

_The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 16._

The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, And wretches hang that jurymen may dine.

_The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 21._

Coffee, which makes the politician wise, And see through all things with his half-shut eyes.

_The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 117._

The meeting points the sacred hair dissever From the fair head, forever, and forever!

_The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 153._

Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane.

_The Rape of the Lock. Canto iv. Line 123._

Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

_The Rape of the Lock. Canto v. Line 34._

Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigued, I said; Tie up the knocker! say I 'm sick, I 'm dead.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 1._

Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, They rave, recite, and madden round the land.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 5._

E'en Sunday shines no Sabbath day to me.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 12._

Is there a parson much bemused in beer, A maudlin poetess, a rhyming peer, A clerk foredoom'd his father's soul to cross, Who pens a stanza when he should engross?

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 15._

Friend to my life, which did not you prolong, The world had wanted many an idle song.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 27._

Obliged by hunger and request of friends.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 44._

Fired that the house rejects him, "'Sdeath! I 'll print it, And shame the fools."

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 61._

No creature smarts so little as a fool.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 84._

Destroy his fib or sophistry--in vain! The creature 's at his dirty work again.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 91._

As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 127._

Pretty! in amber to observe the forms Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms![327-1] The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, But wonder how the devil they got there.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 169._

Means not, but blunders round about a meaning; And he whose fustian 's so sublimely bad, It is not poetry, but prose run mad.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 186._

Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.[327-2]

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 197._

Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering teach the rest to sneer;[327-3] Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 201._

By flatterers besieg'd, And so obliging that he ne'er oblig'd; Like Cato, give his little senate laws,[327-4] And sit attentive to his own applause.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 207._

Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 213._

"On wings of winds came flying all abroad."[327-5]

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 218._

Cursed be the verse, how well so e'er it flow, That tends to make one worthy man my foe.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 283._

Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel? Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 307._

Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 315._

Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 333._

That not in fancy's maze he wander'd long, But stoop'd to truth, and moraliz'd his song.[328-1]

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 340._

Me let the tender office long engage To rock the cradle of reposing age; With lenient arts extend a mother's breath, Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death; Explore the thought, explain the asking eye, And keep awhile one parent from the sky.

_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 408._

Lord Fanny spins a thousand such a day.

_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Satire i. Book ii . Line 6._

Satire 's my weapon, but I 'm too discreet To run amuck, and tilt at all I meet.

_Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Satire i.