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Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
HOUSE INSCRIPTIONS.
On the Town-house Wittenberg:—
Ist’s Gottes Werk, so wird’s bestehen;
Ist’s Menschens, so wird’s untergehen.
(If God’s work, it will aye endure;
If man’s, ’tis not a moment sure.)
Over the gate of a Casino, near Maddaloni:—
AMICIS—
Et ne paucis pateat,
Etiam fictis.
(My gate stands open for my friends;
But lest of these too few appear,
Let him who to the name pretends
Approach and find a welcome here.)
On a west-of-England mansion:—
Welcome to all through this wide-opening gate;
None come too early, none depart too late.
Fuller (Holy and Profane State) and Walton (Life of George Herbert)
notice a verse engraved upon a mantelpiece in the Parsonage House
built by George Herbert at his own expense. The faithful minister
thus counsels his successor:—
If thou dost find
A house built to thy mind,
Without thy cost,
Serve thou the more
God and the poor:
My labor is not lost.
The following is emblazoned around the banqueting hall of Bulwer’s
ancestral home, Knebworth:—
Read the Rede of the Old Roof Tree.
Here be trust fast. Opinion free.
Knightly Right Hand. Christian knee.
Worth in all. Wit in some.
Laughter open. Slander dumb.
Hearth where rooted Friendships grow,
Safe as Altar even to Foe.
And the sparks that upwards go
When the hearth flame dies below,
If thy sap in them may be,
Fear no winter, Old Roof Tree.
On a pane of glass in an old window in the coffee-room of the White
Lion, Chester, England:—
Right fit a place is window glass
To write the name of bonny lass;
And if the reason you should speir,
Why both alike are brittle geir,
A wee thing dings a lozen lame—
A wee thing spoils a maiden’s fame.
Tourist’s wit on a window pane at Lodore:—
When I see a man’s name
Scratched upon the glass,
I know he owns a diamond,
And his father owns an ass.
On a pane of the Hotel des Pays-Bas, Spa, Belgium:—
1793.
I love but one, and only one;
Oh, Damon, thou art he.
Love thou but one and only one,
And let that one be me.
MEMORIALS.
An English gentleman, who, in 1715, spent some time in prison, left
the following memorial on the windows of his cell. On one pane of
glass he wrote:—
That which the world miscalls a jail,
A private closet is to me;
Whilst a good conscience is my bail,
And innocence my liberty.
On another square he wrote, Mutare vel timere sperno, and on a
third pane, sed victa Catoni.[31]
A Mr. Barton, on retiring with a fortune made in the wool-trade, built
a fair stone house at Holme, in Nottinghamshire, in the window of
which was the following couplet,—an humble acknowledgment of
the means whereby he had acquired his estate:—
I thank God, and ever shall;
It is the sheep hath paid for all.
FRANCKE’S ENCOURAGING DISCOVERY.
It is said that when Francke was engaged in the great work of
erecting his world-known Orphan-House at Halle, for the means of
which he looked to the Lord in importunate prayer from day to day,
an apparently accidental circumstance made an abiding impression
on him and those about him. A workman, in digging a part of the
foundation, found a small silver coin, with the following inscription:—
“Jehova, Conditor, Condita Coronide Coronet.”
(May Jehovah, the builder, finish the building.)
GOLDEN MOTTOES.
A vain man’s motto,— Win gold and wear it.
A generous man’s motto,— Win gold and share it.
A miser’s motto,— Win gold and spare it.
A profligate’s motto,— Win gold and spend it.
A broker’s motto,— Win gold and lend it.
A fool’s motto,— Win gold and end it.
A gambler’s motto,— Win gold and lose it.
A sailor’s motto,— Win gold and cruise it.
A wise man’s motto,— Win gold and use it.
POSIES FROM WEDDING-RINGS.
Portia. A quarrel, ho, already! What’s the matter?
Gratiano. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me: whose posy was
For all the world like cutler’s poetry
Upon a knife:[32] Love me, and leave me not.—
Merchant of Venice, Act V.
Hamlet. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?—
Hamlet, Act III. sc. 2.
Jacques. You are full of pretty answers: have you not been acquainted with
goldsmiths’ wives, and conned them out of rings?—
As You Like It, Act III. sc. 2.
The following posies were transcribed by an indefatigable collector,
from old wedding-rings, chiefly of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries. The orthography is, in most cases, altered:—
Death never parts
Such loving hearts.
Love and respect
I do expect.
No gift can show
The love I owe.
Let him never take a wife
That will not love her as his life.
In loving thee
I love myself.
A heart content
Can ne’er repent.
In God and thee
Shall my joy be.
Love thy chaste wife
Beyond thy life. 1681.
Love and pray
Night and day.
Great joy in thee
Continually.
My fond delight
By day and night.
Pray to love;
Love to pray. 1647.
In thee, my choice,
I do rejoice. 1677.
Body and mind
In thee I find.
Dear wife, thy rod
Doth lead to God.
God alone
God alone
Made us two one.
Eternally
My love shall be.
All I refuse,
And thee I choose.
Worship is due
To God and you.
Love and live happy. 1689.
Joy day and night
Be our delight.
Divinely knit by Grace are we;
Late two, now one; the pledge here see. 1657.
Endless my love
As this shall prove.
Avoid all strife
’Twixt man and wife.
Joyful love
This ring doth prove.
In thee, dear wife,
I find new life.
Of rapturous joy
I am the toy.
In thee I prove
The joy of love.
In loving wife
Spend all thy life. 1697.
In love abide
Till death divide.
In unity
Let’s live and die.
Happy in thee
Hath God made me.
Silence ends strife
With man and wife.
None can prevent
The Lord’s intent.
God did decree
Our unity.
I kiss the rod
From thee and God.
In love and joy
Be our employ.
Live and love;
Love and live.
God above
Continue our love.
True love will ne’er forget.
Faithful ever,
Deceitful never.
As gold is pure,
So love is sure.
Love, I like thee,
Sweet, requite me.
God sent her me,
My wife to be.
Live and die
In constancy.
My beloved is mine,
And I am hers.
Within my breast
Th h t d th t
Thy heart doth rest.
God above
Increase our love.
Be true to me
That gives it thee.
Both heart and hand
At your command.
My heart you have,
And yours I crave.
Christ and thee
My comfort be.
As God decreed,
So we agreed.
No force can move
Affixed love.
For a kiss
Take this.
The want of thee
Is grief to me.
I fancy none
But thee alone.
One word for all,
I love and shall.
Your sight,
My delight.
God’s blessing be
On thee and me.
I will be yours
While breath endures.
Love is sure
Where faith is pure.
p
Thy friend am I,
An so will die.
God’s appointment
Is my contentment.
Knit in one
By Christ alone.
My dearest Betty
Is good and pretty.
Sweetheart, I pray
Do not say nay.
Parting is pain
While love doth remain.
Hurt not that heart
Whose joy thou art.
Thine eyes so bright
Are my delight.
Take hand and heart,
I’ll ne’er depart.
If you consent,
You’ll not repent.
’Tis in your will
To save or kill.
As long as life,
Your loving wife.
If you deny,
Then sure I die.
Thy friend am I,
And so will die.
Let me in thee
Most happy be.
God hath sent
My heart’s content.
You and I
Will lovers die.
Thy consent
Is my content.
I wish to thee
All joy may be.
In thee my love
All joy I prove.
Beyond this life
Love me, dear wife.
Love and joy
Can never cloy.
The pledge I prove
Of mutual love.
I love the rod
And thee and God.
Desire, like fire,
Doth still inspire.
My heart and I,
Until I die.
This ring doth bind
Body and mind.
Endless as this
Shall be our bliss.—Thos. Bliss. 1719.
I do rejoice
In thee my choice.
Love him in heart,
Whose joy thou art.
I change the life
I change the life
Of maid to wife.
Endless my love
For thee shall prove.
Not Two, but One.
Till life be gone.
Numbers, vi. 24, 25, 26.
In its circular continuity, the ring was accepted as a type of eternity,
and, hence, the stability of affection.
Constancy and Heaven are round,
And in this the Emblem’s found.
This is love, and worth commending,
Still beginning, never ending.
Or, as Herrick says,—
And as this round
Is nowhere found
To flaw or else to sever,
So let our love
As endless prove,
And pure as gold forever.
LADY KATHERINE GREY’S WEDDING-RING.
The ring received by this excellent woman, who was a sister of Lady
Jane Grey, from her husband, the Earl of Hertford, at their marriage,
consisted of five golden links, the four inner ones bearing the
following lines, of the earl’s composition:—
As circles five by art compact shewe but one ring in sight,
So trust uniteth faithfull mindes with knott of secret might,
Whose force to breake but greedie Death noe wight possesseth power,
As time and sequels well shall prove. My ringe can say no more.
Parallel Passages.
INCLUDING IMITATIONS, PLAGIARISMS, AND
ACCIDENTAL COINCIDENCES.
Pretensions to originality are ludicrous.—Byron’s Letters.
An apple cleft in two is not more twin
Than these two creatures.—Twelfth Night, V. 1.
Milton “borrowed” other poets’ thoughts, but he did not borrow as gipsies borrow
children, spoiling their features that they may not be recognized. No, he returned
them improved. Had he “borrowed” your coat, he would have restored it with a
new nap upon it!—Leigh Hunt.
Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.—Goldsmith: Hermit.
Evidently stolen from Dr. Young:—
Man wants but little, nor that little long.—Night Thoughts.
Be wise to-day: ’tis madness to defer.—Night Thoughts.
But Congreve had said, not long before,—
Defer not till to-morrow to be wise;
To-morrow’s sun to thee may never rise.—Letter to Cobham.
Like angels’ visits, few and far between.—Campbell: Pleasures of Hope.
Copied from Blair:—
——like an ill-used ghost
Not to return;—or if it did, its visits,
Like those of angels, short and far between.—Grave.
But this pretty conceit originated with Norris, of Bemerton, (died
1711,) in a religious poem:—
But those who soonest take their flight
Are the most exquisite and strong:
Like angels’ visits, short and bright,
Mortality’s too weak to bear them long.—The Parting.
Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,
Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.—Gray’s Bard.
Gray himself points out the imitation in Shakspeare:—
You are my true and honorable wife;
As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart.—Julius Cæsar, Act II. Sc. 1.
Otway also makes Priuli exclaim to his daughter,—
Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life,
Dear as these eyes that weep in fondness o’er thee.—Venice Preserved.
And leave us leisure to be good.—Gray: Ode to Adversity.
And know, I have not yet the leisure to be good.—Oldham.
Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge and torturing hour
The bad affright, afflict the best.—Gray: Ode to Adversity.
When the scourge
Inexorably, and the torturing hour,
Calls us to penance.—Milton: Paradise Lost.
Lo, where the rosy-bosomed hours,
Fair Venus’ train, appear!—Gray: Ode to Spring.
The graces and the rosy-bosomed hours
Thither all their bounties bring.—Milton: Comus.
En hic in roseis latet papillis.—Catullus.
Full many a gem, of purest ray serene,
The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.—Gray: Elegy.
There kept my charms concealed from mortal eye,
Like roses that in deserts bloom and die.—Pope: Rape of the Lock.
In distant wilds, by human eye unseen,
She rears her flowers and spreads her velvet green;
Pure gurgling rills the lonely desert trace,
And waste their music on the savage race.—Young.
And, like the desert’s lily, bloom to fade.—Shenstone: Elegy IV.
Nor waste their sweetness on the desert air.—Churchill, Gotham.
Which else had wasted in the desert air.
Lloyd: Ode at Westminster School.
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.—Gray: Elegy.
And left the world to wretchedness and me.—Moss: Beggar’s Petition.
The swallow oft beneath my thatch
Shall twitter from her clay-built nest, &c.—The Wish.
Doubtless suggested to Rogers by the lines in Gray’s Elegy:—
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from her straw-built shed, &c.
The bloom of young desire and purple light of love.—Gray.
Lumenque juventæ purpureum.—Virgil. Æn. I. 590.
And quaff the pendent vintage as it grows.
Gray: Alliance of Education and Government.
For this expression Gray was indebted to Virgil:—
Non eadem arboribus pendet vindemia nostris, &c.—Georg. ii. 89.
The attic warbler pours her throat.—Gray: Ode to Spring.
Is it for thee the linnet pours her throat?—Pope: Essay on Man.
Gray says concerning the blindness of Milton,—
He passed the flaming bounds of space and time:
The living throne, the sapphire blaze,
Where angels tremble while they gaze,
He saw; but, blasted with excess of light,
Closed his eyes in endless night.
(Dr. Johnson remarks that if we suppose the blindness caused by
study in the formation of his poem, this account is poetically true
and happily imagined.)
Hermias, a Galatian writer of the second century, says of Homer’s
blindness,—
When Homer resolved to write of Achilles, he had an exceeding desire to fill his
mind with a just idea of so glorious a hero: wherefore, having paid all due honors
at his tomb, he entreats that he may obtain a sight of him. The hero grants his
poet’s petition, and rises in a glorious suit of armor, which cast so insufferable a
splendor that Homer lost his eyes while he gazed for the enlargement of his
notions.
(Pope says if this be any thing more than mere fable, one would be
apt to imagine it insinuated his contracting a blindness by too
intense application while he wrote the Iliad.)
Hume’s sarcastic fling at the clergy in a note to the first volume of his
history is not original. He says,—
The ambition of the clergy can often be satisfied only by promoting ignorance, and
superstition, and implicit faith, and pious frauds; and having got what Archimedes
only wanted,—another world on which he could fix his engine,—no wonder they
move this world at their pleasure.
In Dryden’s Don Sebastian, Dorax thus addresses the Mufti:—
Content you with monopolizing Heaven,
And let this little hanging ball alone;
For, give you but a foot of conscience there,
And you, like Archimedes, toss the globe.
Dryden says of the Earl of Shaftesbury,—
David for him his tuneful harp had strung,
And Heaven had wanted one immortal song.—Absalom and Achitophel.
Pope adopts similar language in addressing his friend Dr. Arbuthnot:
—
Friend of my life! which did not you prolong,
The world had wanted many an idle song.
For truth has such a face and such a mien,
As to be loved needs only to be seen.—Dryden.
Vice is a monster of such hideous mien,
As to be hated needs but to be seen.—Pope.
Great wits to madness nearly are allied.—Dryden: Abs. and Achit.
Seneca said, eighteen centuries ago,—
Nullum magnum ingenium absque mistura dementiæ est:—De Tranquil.;
and Aristotle had said it before him (Problemata).
Praise undeserved is satire in disguise.—Pope: Imit. Horace.
Sir Walter Scott says in his Woodstock,—in the scene where Alice
Lee, in the presence of Charles II. under the assumed name of Louis
Kerneguy, describes the character she supposes the king to have:—
Kerneguy and his supposed patron felt embarrassed, perhaps from a
consciousness that the real Charles fell far short of his ideal character as designed
in such glowing colors. In some cases exaggerated or inappropriate praise
becomes the most severe satire.
Ye little stars, hide your diminished rays.—Pope: Epistle to Bathurst.
At whose sight all the stars
Hide their diminished heads.—Milton.
Laugh where we must, be candid where we can,
But vindicate the ways of God to man.—Pope: Essay on Man.
And justify the ways of God to man.—Milton: Paradise Lost.
On Butler who can think without just rage,
The glory and the scandal of the age?—Oldham: Satire against Poetry.
Probably borrowed by Pope in the following lines:—
At length Erasmus, that great injured name,
The glory of the priesthood and the shame.—Essay on Criticism.
And more true joy Marcellus, exiled, feels,
Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels.—Pope: Essay on Man.
Drawn from Bolingbroke, who plagiarized the idea from Seneca, who
says,—
O Marcellus, happier when Brutus approved thy exile than when the
commonwealth approved thy consulship.
For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight:
He can’t be wrong whose life is in the right—Pope: Essay on Man.
Taken from Cowley:—
His faith perhaps in some nice tenets might
Be wrong: his life, I’m sure, was in the right.
Is it, in heaven, a crime to love too well?—Pope: Elegy.
Imitated from Crashawe’s couplet:—
And I,—what is my crime? I cannot tell,
Unless it be a crime to have loved too well.
Lamartine, in his Jocelyn, has the same expression:—
Est-ce un crime, O mon Dieu, de trop aimer le beau?
A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits.—Dunciad.
This smart piece of antithesis Pope borrowed from Quinctilian, who
says,—
Qui stultis eruditi videri volunt; cruditi stulti videntur.
Dr. Johnson also hurled this missile at Lord Chesterfield, calling him
“A lord among wits, and a wit among lords.” The earl had offended
the rugged lexicographer, whose barbarous manners in company
Chesterfield holds up, in his Letters to his son, as things to be
avoided.
Fair tresses man’s imperial race ensnare,
And beauty draws us with a single hair.—Pope: Rape of the Lock.
This has a strong affinity with a passage in Howell’s Letters:—
’Tis a powerful sex: they were too strong for the first, for the strongest, and for
the wisest man that was: they must needs be strong, when one hair of a woman
can draw more than a hundred pair of oxen.
Princes and lords may flourish or may fade;
A breath can make them, as a breath has made.—Goldsmith: Deserted Vil.
Probably from De Caux, an old French poet, who says,—
———————— C’est un verre qui luit,
Qu’un souffle peut détruire, et qu’un souffle a produit.
Kings are like stars,—they rise and set,—they have
The worship of the world, but no repose.—Shelley: Hellas.
Stolen from Lord Bacon:—
Princes are like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil times, and which
have much veneration, but no rest.—Of Empire.
Burke, in speaking of the morals of France prior to the Revolution,
says,—
Vice itself lost half its evil by losing all its grossness.
This statement—the falsity of which is apparent—is disproved by a
score of contradictions. Let Lord Bacon suffice:—
Another [of the Rabbins] noteth a position in moral philosophy, that men
abandoned to vice do not so much corrupt manners as those that are half good
and half evil.—Advancement of Learning.
Things not to be trusted:—
A bright sky,
A smiling master,
The cry of a dog,
A harlot’s sorrow.
Howitt’s Literature and Romance of Northern Europe.
Grant I may never be so fond
To trust man in his oath or bond,
Or a harlot for her weeping,
Or a dog that seems a-sleeping.
Apemantus’ Grace.—Timon of Athens.
The collocation of dogs and harlots in both passages is very
remarkable.
All human race, from China to Peru,
Pleasure, howe’er disguised by art, pursue.
Warton: Universal Love of Pleasure, 1748.
Let observation, with extensive view,
Survey mankind, from China to Peru.
Dr. Johnson: Vanity of Human Wishes, 1749.
Shakspeare’s dreamy Dane says,—
Man delights not me, nor woman neither.
A sentiment very nearly expressed in Horace’s Ode to Venus:—
Me nec femina, nec puer,
Jam nec spes animi credula mutui.
Nec certare juvat mero, &c.—Lib. IV.
(As for me, neither woman, nor youth, nor the fond hope of mutual inclination, &c.
delight me.)
The world’s a theatre, the earth a stage,
Which God and nature do with actors fill;
Kings have their entrance with due equipage,
And some their parts play well, and others ill.
Thomas Heywood: Apology for Actors, 1612.
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his life plays many parts.
Shakspeare: As You Like It.
Palladas, a Greek poet of the third century, has the following,
translated by Merivale:—
This life a theatre we well may call,
Where every actor must perform with art,
Or laugh it through and make a farce of all,
Or learn to bear with grace his tragic part.
Pythagoras, who lived nearly two centuries later, also said,—
This world is like a stage whereon many play their parts.
Among the epigrams of Palladas may be found the original of a
modern saw, the purport of which is that an ignoramus, by
maintaining a prudent silence, may pass for a wise man:—
Πᾶς τις ἀπαιδευτος φρονιμώτατος ἔστι σιωπῶν.
Shakspeare uses it in the Merchant of Venice:—
O my Antonio, I do know of these
That therefore only are reputed wise
For saying nothing.—Act I. Sc. 1.
We come crying hither:
Thou knowest the first time that we smell the air
We wawl and cry.——
When we are born, we cry that we are come
To this great stage of fools.—King Lear, IV. 6.
Tum porro puer,——
Vagituque locum lugubri complet, ut æquum est
Cui tantum in vita restet transire malorum.
Lucretius: De Rer. Nat.
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns.—Hamlet, Act III.
Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum
Illuc unde negant redire quemquam.—Catullus.
A similar form of expression occurs in the Book of Job, x. 21, and
xvi. 22; but it is probable, from this and other passages, that
Shakspeare’s acquaintance with the Latin writers was greater than
has been generally supposed. One of the commentators on Hamlet,
in pointing out the similarity of ideas in the lines commencing, “The
cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,” &c. (Act I.) and the hymn of
St. Ambrose in the Salisbury collection,—
Preco diei jam sonat,
Noctis profundæ pervigil;
Nocturna lux viantibus,
A nocte noctem segregans.
Hoc excitatus Lucifer,
Solvit polum caligine;
Hoc omnis errorum chorus
Viam nocendi deserit.
Gallo canente spes redit, &c.,
has the following remark. “Some future Dr. Farmer may, perhaps,
show how Shakspeare became acquainted with this passage,
without being able to read the original; for the resemblance is too
close to be accidental. But this, with many other passages, and
especially his original Latinisms of phrase, give evidence enough of a
certain degree of acquaintance with Latin,—doubtless not familiar
nor scholar-like, but sufficient to give a coloring to his style, and to
open to him many treasures of poetical thought and diction not
accessible to the merely English reader. Such a degree of
acquirement might well appear low to an accomplished Latinist like
Ben Jonson, and authorize him to say of his friend,—
Though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek;—
yet the very mention of his ‘small Latin’ indicates that Ben knew that
he had some.”
Mr. Fox, the orator, remarked on one occasion that Shakspeare must
have had some acquaintance with Euripides, for he could trace
resemblances between passages of their dramas: e.g. what Alcestis
in her last moments says about her servants is like what the dying
Queen Katharine (in Henry the Eighth) says about hers, &c.
That Shakspeare “may often be tracked in the snow” of Terence, as
Dryden remarks of Ben Jonson, is evident from the following:—
Master, it is no time to chide you now:
Affection is not rated from the heart.
If love hath touched you, naught remains but so,—
Redime te captum quam queas minimo.—Taming of the Shrew, I. 1.
The last line is manifestly an alteration of the words of Parmeno in
The Eunuch of Terence:—
Quid agas, nisi ut te redimas captum quam queas minimo?—Act I. Sc. 1.
In another play Terence says,—
Facile omnes, cum valemus, recta consilia, ægrotis damus;
Tu si hic sis, aliter censeas.—Andrian XI. 1.
Shakspeare has it,—
Men
Can counsel and give comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,
Their counsel turns to passion.
.tb
’Tis all men’s office to speak patience
To those that wring under the load of sorrow;
But no man’s virtue, nor sufficiency,
To be so moral when he shall endure
The like himself.—Much Ado about Nothing, V. 1.
Apropos of this sentiment, Swift says,—
I never knew a man who could not bear the misfortunes of others with the most
Christian resignation.—Thoughts on Various Subjects.
And La Rochefoucauld,—
We have all of us sufficient fortitude to bear the misfortunes of others.—Max. 20.
Falstaff says, in 1 Henry IV. ii. 4,—
For though the camomile, the more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth,
the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears.
Shakspeare evidently here parodied an expression in Sir John Lyly’s
Euphues:—
Though the camomile, the more it is trodden and pressed downe, the more it
spreadeth; yet the violet, the oftener it is handled and touched, the sooner it
withereth and decaieth.
Two verses in Titus Andronicus appear to have pleased Shakspeare
so well that he twice subsequently closely copied them:—
She is a woman, therefore may be wooed,
She is a woman, therefore may be won.—Titus Andron. II. 1.
She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed;
She is a woman, therefore to be won.—First Part Henry VI., V. 3.
Was ever woman in this humor wooed?
Was ever woman in this humor won?—Richard III., I. 2.
Though Shakspeare has drawn freely from others, he is himself a
mine from which many builders have quarried their materials,—a
Coliseum
“from whose mass
Walls, palaces, half cities, have been reared.”
Honor and shame from no condition rise:
Act well your part, there all the honor lies.—Pope: Essay on Man.
This is only a new rendering of the thought thus expressed by
Shakspeare:—
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer’s deed.—All’s Well that Ends Well, II. 3.
Let rusty steel a while be sheathed,
And all those harsh and rugged sounds
Of bastinadoes, cuts, and wounds,
Exchanged to love’s more gentle style.—Hudibras, P. II. c. 1.
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.—Richard III, I. 1.
The military figure of Shakspeare’s musical lines,—
Beauty’s ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips and on thy cheeks,
And Death’s pale flag is not advanced there.—Romeo and Juliet, V. 3,
is closely imitated by Chamberlain:—
The rose had lost
His ensign in her cheeks; and tho’ it cost
Pains nigh to death, the lily had alone
Set his pale banners up.—Pharonidas.
A dream
Dreamed by a happy man, while the dark cast
Is slowly brightening to his bridal morn.—Tennyson.
Copied from the Merchant of Venice:—
Then music is
As those dulcet sounds in break of day,
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom’s ear
And summon him to marriage.—III. 2.
How can we expect another to keep our secret if we cannot keep it ourselves?—La
Rochefoucauld, Max. 90.
Toute révélation d’un secret est la faute de celui qui l’a confié.—La Bruyere: De la
Société.
I have played the fool, the gross fool, to believe
The bosom of a friend would hold a secret
Mine own could not contain.—Massinger: Unnatural Combat, V. 2.
Ham.—Do not believe it.
Ros.—Believe what?
Ham.—That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own.
Shakspeare: Hamlet, IV. 2.
Anger is like
A full-hot horse, who being allowed his way,
Self mettle tires him.—Henry VIII. I. 1.
Let passion work, and, like a hot-reined horse,
’Twill quickly tire itself.—Massinger: Unnatural Combat.
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