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Away, then; work with boldness and with speed,
On greatest actions greatest dangers feed.

Marlowe. For good and well must in our actions meet; Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet.- Donne.

Our acts our angels are, or good or ill;
The fatal shadows that walk by us still.

John Fletcher. Of

every noble action, the intent
Is to give worth reward—vice punishment.

Beaumont and Fletcher.
The body sins not; 'tis the will
That makes the action good or ill. Herrick.

Our unsteady actions cannot be
Manag’d by rules of strict philosophy.

Sir R. Howard. Good actions crown themselves with lasting bays; Who deserves well needs not another's praise.

Heath. Not always actions show the man; we find Who does a kindness is not therefore kind; Perhaps prosperity becalmed his breastPerhaps the wind just shifted from the east: Not therefore humble he who seeks retreat; Pride guides his steps, and bids him shun the great; Who combats bravely is not therefore brave: He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave: Wbo reasons wisely is not therefore wise; His pride in reasoning, not in acting, lies.



The reputation
Of virtuous actions past, if not kept up
With an access and fresh supply of new ones,
Is lost and soon forgotten.

The keen spirit
Seizes the prompt occasion, makes the thoughts
Start into instant action, and at once
Plans and performs, resolves and executes!

Hannah More.

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Do something! do it soon! with all thy might;

An angel's wing would droop if long at rest,

And God inactive were no longer blest. Some high or humble enterprise of good

Contemplate till it shall possess thy mind,
Become the study, pastime, rest, or food,

And kindle in thy heart a flame refined:
Pray heaven for firmness thy whole soul to bind

To this high purpose; to begin, pursue,
With thoughts all fix'd, and feelings purely kind;

Strength to complete, and with delight review,
And strength to give the praise where all is due.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow

Finds us farther than to-day.

Trust no Future howe'er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, act, in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Longfellow. 'Tis human actions print the chart of time.

R. Montgomery.

ACTORS-ACTING. For I did play a lamentable part: Madam, ’t was Ariadne passioning For Theseus' perjury, and unjust flight; Which I so lively acted with my tears, That my poor mistress, moved therewithal, Wept bitterly; and, would I might be dead, If I in thought felt not her very sorrow.-Shakspere.

When a good actor doth his part present,
In every act he our attention draws,
That at the last he may find just applause.


When, with mock majesty and fancied power,
He struts in robes, the monarch of an hour;
Oft wide of nature must he act a part,
Make love in tropes, in bombast break his heart;
In turn and simile resign his breath,
And rhyme and quibble in the pains of death.

Whose every look and gesture was a joke
To clapping theatres, and shouting crowds,
And made even thick-lipped, musing melancholy
To gather up her face into a smile,
Before she was aware.


Artors I've seen, and of no vulgar name,
Who being from one part possessed of fame,
Whether they are to laugh, cry, whine, or bawl,
Still introduce the favourite part in all.

Speech! is that all? and shall an actor found
An universal fame on partial ground?
Parrots themselves speak properly by rote,
And in six months my dog shall howl by note.
I laugh at those who when the stage they tread,
Neglect the heart to compliment the head';
With strict propriety their cares confined,
To weigh out words while passion halts behind.
To syllable-dissectors they appeal:
Allow them accent, cadence--fools may feel;
But spite of all the criticising elves,
Those who would make us feel must feel themselves.

Churchill. In shabby state they strut, in tattered robe, The scene a blanket, and a barn the globe; No high conceits their moderate wishes raise, Content with humble profit, humble praise. Let dowdies simper, and let bumpkins stare, The strolling pageant hero treads on air; Pleased for his hour, he to mankind gives law, And snores the next out on a truss of straw.





ADDRESS. Henry, in knots involving Emma's name, Had half-confessed, and half-concealed his flame, Upon this tree; and as the tender mark Grew with the year, and widened with the bark, Venus had heard the virgin's soft address, That as the wound the passion might increase.

Prior. They both beheld thee with their sister's eyes, And often have revealed their passion to me; But tell me whose address thou favour'st most, I long to know, and yet I dread to hear it.

Addison. Thrice happy he, who with a good address, Knows how, and when, and where, his suit to press, Unto attainment of assured success! But Oh! unhappy, he, who not possessing The gift of fluently his thoughts expressing, Addresses him in vain to his addressing. Egone.

ADIEU. THEN came the parting hour, and what arise When lovers part--expressive looks, and eyes Tender and tearful-many a fond adieu, And many a call the sorrow to renew. Crabbe. While now I take my last adieu,

Heave thou no sigh, nor shed a tear; Lest yet my half-closed eye may view

On earth an object worth its care. Prior. I never looked a last adieu

To things familiar, but my heart Shrunk with a feeling almost pain, E'en from their lifelessness to part.

Caroline Bowles. Vanish'd, like dew-drops from the spray,

Are moments which in beauty flew;
I cast life's brightest pearl away,
And, false one, breathe my last adieu.

W. G. Clark.


WHAT could I more?
I warn'd thee, I admonish'd thee, foretold
The danger, and the lurking enemy,
That lay in wait; beyond this had been force,
And force upon free-will hath here no place.

Milton. To the Infinitely Good

we owe Immortal thanks, and His admonishment Receive, with solemn purpose to observe Immutably His sovereign will, the end Of what we are.


He of their wicked ways Shall them admonish, and before them set The paths of righteousness.


ADORATION. O CEREMONY! show me all thy worth! What is thy toll, O adoration! Art thou nought else but place, degree, and form, Creating awe and fear in other men? Wherein thou art less happy, being feared, Than they in fearing. What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poison'd flattery.


I care not to be like the Horeb calf,
One day adored, the next pasht all in pieces,
Nor do I envy Polyphemian puffs,
Switzer's sloped greatness. I adore the sun,
Yet love to live within a temperate zone.

Old Play, 1601.
True adoration! what a voice is thine!
From earth it wanders through the heaven of heavens,
There from the mercy-seat itself evokes
An answer, thrilling the seraphic host
With added glory of celestial song.-R. Montgomery.

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