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An horrid stillness first invades the ear,
And in that silence we the tempest fear.
An intrepid courage is at best but a holiday kind of virtue, to be seldom exercised, and never but in cases of necessity; affability, mildness, tenderness, and a word which I would fain bring back to its original signification of virtue, I mean good-nature, are of daily use; they are the bread of mankind and staff of life.
An ugly woman in a rich habit set out with jewels nothing can become.
And Jove but laughs at lovers' perjury.
Art may err, but nature cannot miss.
As for the women, though we scorn and flout them, we may live with, but cannot live without them.
As one who in some frightful dream would shun
His pressing foe, labors in vain to run
And his own slowness in his sleep bemoans.
In short thick sighs, weak cries, and tender groans.
As sure as a gun.
- [Proverbial Phrases]
Bareheaded, popularly low he bow'd,
And paid the salutations of the crowd.
Be secret and discreet; the fairy favors are lost when not concealed.
Beauty is nothing else but a just accord and mutual harmony of the members, animated by a healthful constitution.
Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray;
Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way?
Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on,
And see the dangers that we cannot shun.
Believe these tears, which from my wounded heart bleed at my eyes.
Bestow, base man, thy idle threats elsewhere; my mother's daughter knows not how to fear.
Bets at first were fool-traps, where the wise like spiders lay in ambush for the flies.
Better shun the bait than struggle in the snare.
Beware of the fury of the patient man.
Blown roses hold their sweetness to the last.
Boileau's numbers are excellent, his expressions noble, his thoughts just, his language pure, and his sense close.
Bold at the council board, but cautious in the field.
But since our sects in prophecy grow higher,
The text inspires not them, text inspire.
But whither went his soul, let such relate
Who search the secrets of the future state:
Divines can say but what themselves believe;
Strong proofs they have, but not demonstrative:
For, were all plain, then all sides must agree,
And faith itself be lost in certainty.
To live uprightly then is sure the best,
To save ourselves, and not to damn the rest.
Chaucer, I confess, is a rough diamond, and must be polished ere he shine.
Dancing is the poetry of the foot.
Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.
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