2. Why should the sacred character of virtue
Shine on a villain's countenance? Ye powers!
Why fix'd you not a brand on treason's front,
That we might know t' avoid perfidious mortals?

3. Mislike me not for my complexion,

The shadow'd liv'ry of the burnish'd sun,
To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.

DENNIS

SHAKSPEARE.

4. A man may smile and smile, and be a villain.

SHAKSPEARE.

5. All that glitters is not gold,

Gilded tombs do worms enfold.

SHAKSPEARE.

6. What is the jay more precious than the lark, Because his feathers are more beautiful!

Or is the adder better than the eel,

Because his painted skin contents the eye?

SHAKSPEARE.

7. So the blue summit of some mountain height,
Wrapt in gay clouds, deludes the distant sight;
But as with gazing eyes we draw more near,
Fades the false scene, and the rough rocks appear.

8

He has, I know not what,

Of greatness in his looks, and of high fate,

That almost awes me.

9. The gloomy outside, like a rusty chest, Contains the shining treasure of a soul, Resolv'd and brave.

PATTISON.

DRYDEN.

10. Tho' the fair rose with beauteous blush is crown'd,
Beneath her fragrant leaves the thorn is found;
The peach, that with inviting crimson blooms,
Deep at the heart the cank'ring worm consumes.

DRYDEN.

GAY'S Dione.

11. Not always actions show the man; we find
Who does a kindness is not therefore kind;

Who combats bravely is not therefore brave ;—
He dreads a death-bed, like the meanest slave;
Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise-
His pride in reasoning, not in acting, lies.

POPE'S Moral Essays.

12. She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought,
But never, never reach'd one generous thought;
Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour,
Content to dwell in decencies for ever.

13.

POPE'S Moral Essays

Your thief looks, in the crowd,
Exactly like the rest, or rather better;
Tis only at the bar, or in the dungeon,
That wise men know your felon by his features.

BYRON'S Werner.

14. That this is but the surface of his soul, And that the depth is rich in better things.

15. Full

BYRON'S Werner.

many a stoic eye and aspect stern
Masks hearts where grief has little left to learn;
And many a withering thought lies hid, not lost,
In smiles that least befit, who wears them most.

BYRON'S Corsair.

16. How little do they see what is, who frame Their hasty judgments upon that which seems.

17. The deepest ice that ever froze

Can only o'er the surface close;
The living stream lies quick below,
And flows, and cannot cease to flow.

SOUTHEY.

BYRON'S Parisina.

18. As a beam o'er the face of the water may glow, While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below,

APPEARANCE.

So the cheek may be ting'd with a warm sunny smile,
Tho' the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while.

19. Appearance may deceive thee-understand, A pure white glove may hide a filthy hand.

20. Within the oyster's shell uncouth

The purest pearl may bide:-
Trust me, you'll find a heart of truth
Within that rough outside.

T. MOORE.

MRS. OSGOOD.

21. Who will believe? not I, for in deceiving
Lies the dear charm of life's delightful dream;
I cannot spare the luxury of believing
That all things beautiful are what they seem.

FITZ-GREEN HALLECK.

22. 'Tis not the fairest form that holds
The mildest, purest soul within ;
"Tis not the richest plant that folds
The sweetest breath of fragrance in.

23. Angel forms may often hide Spirits to the fiends allied.

R. DAWES.

MRS. M. ST. LEON LOUD.

24 Think not, because the eye is bright,
And smiles are laughing there,
The heart that beats within is light,
And free from pain and care.
A blush may tinge the darkest cloud
Ere Sol's last ray depart,

And underneath the sunniest smile
May lurk the saddest heart.

1.

APPETITE-DINNER-HUNGER, &c.

Our stomachs
Will make what's homely, savoury.

2. He was a man of an unbounded stomach.

3.

Famine is in thy cheeks,

Need and oppression stareth in thine eyes,

SHAKSPEARE.

SHAKSPEARE..

Upon thy back hangs ragged misery;

The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law.

SHAKSPEARE.

4. Read over this, and after this,—and then To breakfast with what appetite you have..

5.

6.

7.

They would defy

SHAKSPEARE.

That which they love most tenderly;
Quarrel with minced pies, and disparage
Their best and dearest friend, plum-porridge;
Fat pig and goose itself oppose,

And blaspheme custard thro' their nose.

He bore

A paunch of mighty bulk before,

Which still he had a special care

BUTLER'S Hudibras.

To keep well cramm'd with thrifty fare.

BUTLER'S Hudibras.

For finer or fatter

Ne'er ranged in a forest, or smoked in a platter.

8. Critiqu'd your wine, and analyz'd your meat, Yet on plain pudding deign'd at home to eat.

GOLDSMITH.

POPE'S Moral Essays.

9. The tankards foam; and the strong table groans
Beneath the smoking sirloin, stretch'd immense
From side to side, in which, with desperate knife,
They deep incisions make.

THOMSON.

50

APPETITE- DINNER-HUNGER, &c.

10. Their various cares in one great point combine, The business of their lives-that is, to dine.

YOUNG'S Love of Fame.

11. The turnpike road to people's hearts, I find, Lies thro' their mouths, or I mistake mankind.

DR. WOLCOT's Peter Pindar.

12. Behold! his breakfasts shine with reputation;
His dinners are the wonder of the nation!
With these he treats both commoners and quality,
Who praise, where'er they go, his hospitality.

DR. WOLCOT'S Peter Pindar.

13. Dire was the clang of plates, of knife and fork, That merciless fell, like tomahawks, to work!

DR. WOLCOT's Peter Pindar.

14. Famish'd people must be slowly nurst,
And fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.

BYRON'S Don Juan.

15. Besides, I'm hungry, and just now would take Like Esau, for my birthright a beef-steak.

BYRON'S Don Juan.

16. And when he look'd upon his watch again,
He found how much old Time had been a winner-
He also found that he had lost his dinner.

17.

18.

BYRON'S Don Juan.

Nothing's more sure at moments to take hold
Of the best feelings of mankind, which grow
More tender, as we every day behold,
Than that all-softening, overpowering knell,
The tocsin of the soul-the dinner bell!

BYRON'S Don Juan.

When dinner has oppress'd me,

I think it is perhaps the gloomiest hour
Which turns up out of the sad twenty-four.

BYRON'S Don Juan.