It is a beautiful, a blessed belief, How sweet it were, if without feeble fright, At evening in our room, and bend on ours ANGER. ANGER Is blood, pour'd and perplex'd into a froth; Sir W. Davenant. Anger is like Shakspere. A full hot horse, who being allowed his way, Give him no breath, but now Self-mettle tires him. Make boot of his distraction: never anger Made good guard for itself. Shakspere. Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself, And so shall starve with feeding. Shakspere. What sudden anger's this? how have I reaped it? He parted frowning from me, as if ruin Leaped from his eyes. So looks the chafed lion Shakspere. Be calm in arguing; for fierceness makes Anger in hasty words or blows, Madness and anger differ but in this, Waller. Charles Alleyn. Where there's Power to punish, 'tis tyranny to rage; 'Tis true she's painted with a sword, but looks Her hand, yet peace dwells in her face. Henry Killigrew. When anger rushes unrestrain❜d to action, The man of thought strikes deepest, and strikes safest. Savage. Next Anger rushed, his eyes on fire, In lightnings owned his secret stings, In one rude clash he struck the lyre, And swept with hurried hands the strings. Collins. Go to the bee! and thence bring home, (Worth all the treasures of her comb,) An antidote against rash strife: She, when her angry flight she wings, The ocean lashed to fury loud, Its high waves mingling with the cloud, To anger's dark and troubled sea. Bishop. J. W. Eastburn. ANGLING. THE pleasant'st angling 'tis to see the fish Shakspere. Give me mine angle; we'll to the river there, Let others freeze with angling reeds, With strangling snares or windowy net; Donne. In genial spring, beneath the quiv'ring shade, With looks unmoved, he lures the scaly breed, He, like a patient angler, ere he struck, I in these flowery meads would be; I with my angle would rejoice.-Izaak Walton. And angling too, that solitary vice, Whatever Izaak Walton sings or says. Byron. 44 ANIMALS. ANNOYANCE. ANIMALS-ANIMATE. NOBLER birth Of creatures animate with gradual life, Of growth, sense, reason, all summed up in man. Let cavillers deny Milton. That brutes have reason; sure 't is something more, The heart is hard in nature, and unfit Somerville. To love and friendship both, that is not pleased Nor feels their happiness augment his own.-Cowper. Though man, as God's own miniature, reveals And lash the ocean into storms! or mark ANNOYANCE. As he who long in populous cities pent, Adjoined, from each thing met conceives delight. Milton. The things we fear bring less annoy What then remains last after past annoy, Donne. Dryden. Woe to poor man! each outward thing annoys him; With thy clear keen joyance Shadow of annoyance Sidney. Never came near thee.-Shelley, to the Lark. ANTIC. WITHIN the hollow crown, That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Death keeps his court; and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state. What! dares the slave Come hither covered with an antic face, Shakspere. Shakspere. Scrambling, out facing, fashion-mongering boys, That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander, Go anticly, and shew an outward hideousness, And speak of half-a-dozen dangerous words. A work of rich entail, and curious mould, Of all our antic sights and pageantry, Shakspere. Spenser. Which English idiots run in crowds to see.-Dryden. For even at first reflection she espies That she retires, and shrinks for shame and fear. Davies. |