Spenser.

How many great ones may remembered be,
Which in their days most famously did flourish,
Of whom no Word we hear, nor Sign now see,
But as things wip'd out with a spunge do perish,
Because the living cared not to cherish

No gentle Wits, through pride or covetize,
Which might their names for ever memorize!

THEN

came the Autumne, all in Yellow clad,

As though he joyed in his plenteous store,

Laden with Fruits that made him laugh, full glad
That he had banisht Hunger, which to-fore

Had by the belly oft him pinched sore;

Upon his Head a Wreath, that was enrold
With Ears of Corne of every sort, he bore,
And in his Hand a Sickle he did holde,

To reape the ripened Fruit the which the Earth had yold.
Avarice. Blair.

CURSED Lust of Gold: when for thy sake

The Fool throws up his interest in both worlds, First starv'd in this, then damn'd in that to come.

Avarice. Spenser.

ND greedy Avarice by him did ride

Two iron coffers hong on either side,

With precious Metall full as they might hold,
And in his lap an heap of Coine he told;
For of his wicked pelf his God he made,
And unto Hell him selfe for Money sold;
Accursed Usury was all his Trade,

And right and wrong ylike in equall ballaunce waide.
His Life was nigh unto Death's dore yplaste
And thread-bare cote and cobled shoes he ware,
Ne scarce good morsell all his Life did taste,
But both from Backe and Belly still did spare,
To fill his Bags, and Richesse to compare ;
Yet Childe nor Kinsman living had he none
To leave them to; but, thorough daily care
To get, and nightly feare to loose his owne,
He led a wretched life unto himself unknowne.

THE Love of Gold, that meanest rage,

And latest folly of Man's sinking age,
Which, rarely venturing in the van of life,
While nobler passions wage their heated strife,
Comes skulking last, with Selfishness and Fear,
And dies, collecting lumber in the rear.

Avarice. Pope.

ICHES, like Insects, when conceal'd they lie,

R Wait but for wings, and in their season fly.

Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store,
Sees but a backward steward for the poor;
This year, a reservoir, to keep and spare,
The next, a fountain, spouting through his heir,
In lavish Streams to quench a Country's thirst,
And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst.

may be remarked, for the comfort of honest Poverty,

good Qualities to recommend them. This is a Weed that will grow in a barren Soil.

VARICE often produces opposite effects: there is an

all their property to doubtful and distant Expectations; others despise great future Advantages to obtain present Interests of a trifling nature.

Avarice. - La Rochefoucauld.

XTREME Avarice almost always mistakes itself;

of its Object, nor on which the Present exercises so much Power to the prejudice of the Future.

Avarice. Colton.

THE Avarice of the Miser may be termed the grand

Sepulchre of all his other Passions, as they successively decay. But, unlike other Tombs, it is enlarged by Repletion, and strengthened by Age.

S those that pull down private houses adjoining to

A the Temples of the Gods, prop up such parts as aro

contiguous to them; so, in undermining Bashfulness, due regard is to be had to adjacent Modesty, Good-Nature, and Humanity.

THERE

are two distinct Sorts of what we call Bashfulness; this, the awkwardness of a Booby, which a few steps into the world will convert into the pertness of a Coxcomb; that, a Consciousness, which the most delicate Feelings produce, and the most extensive Knowledge cannot always remove.

Beauty. - Byron.

AN Eye's an Eye, and whether black or blue,

Is no great matter, so 'tis in request; 'Tis Nonsense to dispute about a Hue

The kindest may be taken as a Test.

The fair sex should be always fair; and no Man,
Till thirty, should perceive there's a plain Woman.

Beauty. Sir A. Hunt.

WHAT is Beauty? Not the Show

Of shapely Limbs and Features. No.
These are but flowers

That have their dated hours

To breathe their momentary Sweets, then go.
'Tis the stainless Soul within

WH

BUT then her Face,

So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth,
The overflowings of an innocent Heart.

Beauty. — Byron.

HO hath not proved how feebly Words essay
To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray?
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess
The Might-the Majesty of Loveliness?

Beauty. — Shakespeare.

FOR her own Person,

It beggar'd all Description: she did lie
In her pavilion,

O'erpicturing that Venus, where we see
The Fancy out-work Nature.

Beauty. Spenser.

LONG while I sought to what I might compare

Those powerful Eyes, which lighten my dark Spirit; Yet found I nought on Earth, to which I dare Resemble the Image of their goodly light. Not to the Sun, for they do shine by Night; Nor to the Moon, for they are changed never; Nor to the Stars, for they have purer Sight; Nor to the Fire, for they consume not ever; Nor to the Lightning, for they still presever; Nor to the Diamond, for they are more tender; Nor unto Chrystal, for nought may them sever; Nor unto Glass, such Baseness mought offend her; Then to the Maker's Self they likest be;

Whose light doth lighten all that here we see.

Beauty. — Shakespeare.

COULD Beauty have better commerce than with Honesty?

Beauty. — Spenser.

FOR shee was full of amiable Grace,

And manly Terror mixed therewithall; That as the one stirr'd up Affections base, So th' other did Man's rash Desires apall,

And hold them backe, that would in error fall:

As he that hath espide a vermeill Rose,

To which sharpe Thornes and Breeres the way forstail, Dare not for Dread his hardy Hand expose,

But wishing it farr off his ydle Wish doth lose.

Beauty. Spenser.

HE Fairness of her Face no tongue can tell,
the Daughters or

And Angels eke, in Beautie doth excell,
Sparkled on her from God's owne glorious Face,
And more increast by her owne goodly Grace,
That it doth farre exceed all human Thought
Ne can on Earth compared be to ought.

Beauty.

Byron.

As Socking not to know it; silent, lone, gazed upon a World she scarcely knew As grows a Flower, thus quietly she grew,

And kept her Heart serene within its Zone. There was Awe in the Homage which she drew; Her Spirit seem'd as seated on a throne Apart from the surrounding World, and strong In its own strength-most strange in one so young! Beauty. Rochester.

H! she is the Pride and Glory of the World:

Life, a base slavery; Empire but a mock;
And Love, the Soul of all, a bitter curse.

Beauty. Shakespeare.

ALL Orators are dumb when Beauty pleadeth.

BEAUTY, like the fair Hesperian Tree

Laden with blooming Gold, had need the guard
Of Dragon-watch with unenchanted eye,
To save her Blossoms and defend her Fruit
From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.

HER Looks were like beams of the morning Sun,
Forth-looking through the window of the East,

When first the fleecie Cattle have begun
Upon their perled grass to make their feast.

HER

ER glossy Hair was cluster'd o'er a Brow Bright with Intelligence, and fair and smooth; Her Eyebrows' Shape was like the aerial Bows, Her Cheek all purple with the beam of Youth, Mounting at times to a transparent glow, As if her Veins ran lightning.

Beauty. Shakespeare.

FAIR Ladies, mask'd, are Roses in their Bud: Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown,

Are Angels veiling Clouds, or Roses blown.