book iv
. chap. 5._
[372-1] See Herbert, page 205.
Do not be troubled by Saint Bernard's saying that hell is full of good intentions and wills.--FRANCIS DE SALES: _Spiritual Letters. Letter xii._ (Translated by the author of "A Dominican Artist.") 1605.
[372-2] Scire ubi aliquid invenire possis, ea demum maxima pars eruditionis est (To know where you can find anything, that in short is the largest part of learning).--ANONYMOUS.
[372-3] Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found The warmest welcome at an inn.
SHENSTONE: _Written on a Window of an Inn._
[373-1] Chapter xlii. is still shorter: "There are no owls of any kind in the whole island."
[374-1] I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice.--EDWARD MOORE: _The Gamester, act ii. sc. 2._ 1753.
[374-2] Usually quoted as "When a nobleman writes a book, he ought to be encouraged."
[374-3] I have not loved the world, nor the world me.--BYRON: _Childe Harold, canto iii. stanza 113._
[374-4] See Shakespeare, page 88.
[375-1] A parody on "Who rules o'er freemen should himself be free," from Brooke's "Gustavus Vasa," first edition.
[375-2] Carried about with every wind of doctrine.--_Ephesians iv. 14._
[375-3] Elsewhere found, "I put my hat."
[375-4] A parody on Percy's "Hermit of Warkworth."
[376-1] This is the composition of Johnson, founded on some note or statement of the actual speech. Johnson said, "That speech I wrote in a garret, in Exeter Street." BOSWELL: _Life of Johnson, 1741._
LORD LYTTLETON. 1709-1773.
For his chaste Muse employ'd her heaven-taught lyre None but the noblest passions to inspire, Not one immoral, one corrupted thought, One line which, dying, he could wish to blot.
_Prologue to Thomson's Coriolanus._
Women, like princes, find few real friends.
_Advice to a Lady._
What is your sex's earliest, latest care, Your heart's supreme ambition? To be fair.
_Advice to a Lady._
The lover in the husband may be lost.
_Advice to a Lady._
How much the wife is dearer than the bride.
_An Irregular Ode._
None without hope e'er lov'd the brightest fair, But love can hope where reason would despair.
_Epigram._
Where none admire, 't is useless to excel; Where none are beaux, 't is vain to be a belle.
_Soliloquy on a Beauty in the Country._
Alas! by some degree of woe We every bliss must gain; The heart can ne'er a transport know That never feels a pain.
_Song._
EDWARD MOORE. 1712-1757.
Can't I another's face commend, And to her virtues be a friend, But instantly your forehead lowers, As if _her_ merit lessen'd _yours_?
_The Farmer, the Spaniel, and the Cat. Fable ix._
The maid who modestly conceals Her beauties, while she hides, reveals; Give but a glimpse, and fancy draws Whate'er the Grecian Venus was.
_The Spider and the Bee. Fable x._
But from the hoop's bewitching round, Her very shoe has power to wound.
_The Spider and the Bee. Fable x._
Time still, as he flies, brings increase to her truth, And gives to her mind what he steals from her youth.
_The Happy Marriage._
I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice.[378-1]
_The Gamester. Act ii. Sc. 2._
'T is now the summer of your youth. Time has not cropt the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them.
_The Gamester. Act iii. Sc. 4._
Labour for his pains.[378-2]
_The Boy and the Rainbow._
FOOTNOTES:
[378-1] See Johnson, page 374.
[378-2] See Shakespeare, page 101.
LAURENCE STERNE. 1713-1768.
Go, poor devil, get thee gone! Why should I hurt thee? This world surely is wide enough to hold both thee and me.
_Tristram Shandy_ (orig. ed.). _Vol. ii. chap. xii._
Great wits jump.[378-3]
_Tristram Shandy_ (orig. ed.). _Vol. iii. Chap. ix._
"Our armies swore terribly in Flanders," cried my Uncle Toby, "but nothing to this."
_Tristram Shandy_ (orig. ed.). _Vol. iii. Chap. xi._
Of all the cants which are canted in this canting world, though the cant of hypocrites may be the worst, the cant of criticism is the most tormenting!
_Tristram Shandy_ (orig. ed.). _Vol. iii. Chap. xii._
The accusing spirit, which flew up to heaven's chancery with the oath, blushed as he gave it in; and the recording angel as he wrote it down dropped a tear upon the word and blotted it out forever.[379-1]
_Tristram Shandy_ (orig. ed.). _Vol. vi. Chap. viii._
I am sick as a horse.
_Tristram Shandy_ (orig. ed.). _Vol. vii. Chap. xi._
"They order," said I, "this matter better in France."
_Sentimental Journey. Page 1._
I pity the man who can travel from Dan to Beersheba and cry, "'T is all barren!"
_In the Street. Calais._
God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.[379-2]
_Maria._
"Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery," said I, "still thou art a bitter draught."
_The Passport. The Hotel at Paris._
The sad vicissitude of things.[379-3]
_Sermon xvi._
Trust that man in nothing who has not a conscience in everything.
_Sermon xxvii._
FOOTNOTES:
[378-3] Great wits jump.--BYROM: _The Nimmers._ BUCKINGHAM: _The Chances, act. iv. sc. 1._
Good wits jump.--CERVANTES: _Don Quixote, part ii . Chap. xxxviii._
[379-1] But sad as angels for the good man's sin, Weep to record, and blush to give it in.
CAMPBELL: _Pleasures of Hope,