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A summer friendship, whose flattering leaves, that shadowed us in our prosperity, with the least gust drop off in the autumn of adversity.
As the index tells us the contents of stories and directs to the particular chapter, even so does the outward habit and superficial order of garments (in man or woman) give us a taste of the spirit, and demonstratively point (as it were a manual note from the margin) all the internal quality of the soul; and there cannot be a more evident, palpable, gross manifestation of poor, degenerate, dunghilly blood and breeding than a rude, unpolished, disordered, and slovenly outside.
We end our pilgrimage, 'tis fit that we
Should leave corruption, and foul sin, behind us,
But with wash'd feet and hands, the heathens dar' not
Enter their profane temples; and for me
To hope my passage to eternity
Can be made easy, till I have shook off
The burthen of my sins in free confession,
Aided with sorrow, and repentance for them,
Is against reason.
Black detraction will find faults where they are not.
Cheerful looks make every dish a feast, and it is that which crowns a welcome.
Conscience and wealth are not always neighbors.
Detraction's a bold monster, and fears not
To wound the fame of princes, if it find
But any blemish in their lives to work on.
Equal nature fashion'd us
All in one mould. * * *
All's but the outward gloss
And politic form that does distinguish us.
For any man to match above his rank is but to sell his liberty.
From the king
To the beggar, by gradation, all are servants;
And you must grant, the slavery is less
To study to please one, than many.
Gold--the picklock that never fails.
Great minds erect their never-failing trophies on the firm base of mercy.
He is not valiant that dares lie; but he that boldly bears calamity.
Virtue's allowed ascent: honour that clasps
All perfect justice in her arms; that craves
No more respect than that she gives; that does
Nothing but what she'll suffer.
Ill news are swallow-winged, but what is good walks on crutches.
It is true fortitude to stand firm against
All shocks of fate, when cowards faint and die
In fear to suffer more calamity.
Like a rough orator, that brings more truth than rhetoric, to make good his accusation.
Like virgin parchment, capable of any inscription.
Malice, scorned, puts out itself; but, argued, gives a kind of credit to a false accusation.
Man was mark'd
A friend in his creation to himself,
And may, with fit ambition, conceive
The greatest blessings, and the highest honors
Appointed for him, if he can achieve them
The right and noble way.
One grain of incense with devotion offer'd
'S beyond all perfumes of Sabaean spices.
Petitions, not sweetened with gold, are but unsavory and oft refused; or, if received, are pocketed, not read.
Revenge, that thirsty dropsy of our souls, makes us covet that which hurts us most.
That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it;
And at the best shows but a bastard valor.
The over curious are not over wise.
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