Contents
-BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.
Massinger
And, to all married men, be this a caution,Which they should duly tender as their life,Neither to doat too much, nor doubt a wife.
As if thou e’er wert angryBut with thy tailor! and yet that poor shredCan bring more to the making up of a man,Than can be hoped from thee; thou art his creature;And did he not, each morning, new create thee,Thou’dst stink and be forgotten.
Be wise;Soar not too high to fall; but stoop to rise.
BeforeWe end our pilgrimage, ’tis fit that weShould leave corruption, and foul sin, behind us,But with wash’d feet and hands, the heathens dar’ notEnter their profane temples; and for meTo hope my passage to eternityCan be made easy, till I have shook offThe burthen of my sins in free confession,Aided with sorrow, and repentance for them,Is against reason.
Detraction’s a bold monster and fears notTo wound the fame of princes if it findBut any blemish in their lives to work on.
Equal nature fashion’d usAll in one mould.***All’s but the outward glossAnd politic form that does distinguish us.
Factions among yourselves; preferring suchTo offices and honors, as ne’er readThe elements of saving policy;But deeply skilled in all the principlesThat usher to destruction.
—From the kingTo the beggar, by gradation, all are servants;And you must grant, the slavery is lessTo study to please one, than many.
HeThat kills himself to avoid misery, fears it,And, at the best, shows but a bastard valor.This life’s a fort committed to my trust,Which I must not yield up, till it be forced:Nor will I. He’s not valiant that dares die,But he that boldly bears calamity.
Honour isVirtue’s allowed ascent: honour that claspsAll perfect justice in her arms; that cravesNo more respect than that she gives; that doesNothing but what she’ll suffer.
How sweetly sounds the voice of a good woman!It is so seldom heard, that, when it speaks,It ravishes all senses.
I have play’d the fool, the gross fool, to believeThe bosom of a friend will hold a secretMine own could not retain.
It is true fortitude to stand firm againstAll shocks of fate, when cowards faint and dieIn fear to suffer more calamity.
Man was mark’dA friend in his creation to himself,And may, with fit ambition, conceiveThe greatest blessings, and the highest honorsAppointed for him, if he can achieve themThe right and noble way.
One grain of incense with devotion offer’d,Beyond all perfumes, or Sabæan spices.
Some undone widow sits upon mine arm,And takes away the use of it; and my sword,Glued to my scabbard with wronged orphan’s tears,Will not be drawn.
That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it;And at the best shows but a bastard valor.
True dignity is never gained by place,And never lost when honours are withdrawn.
What a fine manHath your tailor made you!
What can innocence hope for,When such as sit her judges are corrupted?
Why here’s a villain,Able to corrupt a thousand by example.
Without good company all daintiesLose their true relish, and like painted grapes,Are only seen, not tasted.
Yes, if they would thank their maker,And seek no further; but they have new creators,God tailor and god mercer.
You have not, as good patriots should do, studiedThe public good, but your particular ends:Factious among yourselves; preferring suchTo offices and honors, as ne’er readThe elements of saving policy;But deeply skill’d in all the principlesThat usher to destruction.
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.
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.
Death hath a thousand doors to let out life.
For any man to match above his rank is but to sell his liberty.
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.
How sweetly sounds the voice of a good woman! It is so seldom heard that when it speaks, it ravishes all senses.
I have played the fool, the gross fool, to believe the bosom of a friend would hold a secret mine could not contain.
Ill news are swallow-winged, but what is good walks on crutches.
Like virgin parchment, capable of any inscription.
Malice, scorned, puts out itself; but, argued, gives a kind of credit to a false accusation.
Out, you impostors, quack-salving, cheating mountebanks! Your skill is to make sound men sick, and sick men kill.
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.
The over curious are not over wise.
The picklock that never fails.
The soul is strong that trusts in goodness.
Thou art figured blind, and yet we borrow our best sight from thee.
’Tis the only discipline we are born for; all studies else are but as circular lines, and death the center where they all must meet.
To all married men be this caution, which they should duly tender as their life: Neither to doat too much, nor doubt a wife.
To doubt is worse than to have lost; and to despair is but to antedate those miseries that must fall on us.
True dignity is never gained by place, and never lost when honors are withdrawn.
Virtue, thou in rags, may challenge more than vice set off with all the trim of greatness.
Without good company, all dainties lose their true relish, and, like painted grapes, are only seen, not tasted.
