I hate ingratitude more in a man

Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.

2423

Shaks.: Tw. Night. Act iii. Sc. 4

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude;

Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

2424

Shaks.: As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7. Song

Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.

2425

Shaks.: Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,

A great-sized monster of ingratitudes.

Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devoured
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon

As done.

2426

The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude
With any size of words.
2427

Shaks.: Troil. and Cress. Act iii. Sc. 3 I'm rapt, and cannot cover

Shaks.: Timon of A. Act v. Sc. 1.

Shaks.: King Lear. Act i. Sc. 4.

The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, That it had its head bit off by its young. 2428

Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend,

More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child,
Than the sea-monster!

Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand,

For lifting food to 't?

2431

Shaks.: King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 4

Great minds, like heaven, are pleased in doing good,

Though the ungrateful subjects of their favors

Are barren in return.

2432

Rowe: Tamerlane. Act ii. Sc. 1

He that's ungrateful, has no guilt but one; AK other crimes may pass for virtues in him. 2433

Young: Busiris

So the struck eagle stretch'd upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
View'd his own feather on the fatal dart,
And wing'd the shaft that quivered in his heart:
Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel
He nurs'd the pinion which impelled the steel.
2434

Byron: English Bards. Line 828

The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree
I planted, they have torn me, and I bleed;

I should have known what fruit would spring from such a

The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief To him that bears the strong offence's cross. 2437

INK.

Shaks.: Sonnet xxxiv.

Let there be gall enough in thy ink;

Shaks.: Tw. Night. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter.

2438

INN-see Tavern.

Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round,
Where'er his stages may have been,

May sigh to think he still has found,
The warmest welcome at an inn.

2439

Shenstone: Lines on Window of Inn at Henley

Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high,
Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye,
Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired,
Where graybeard mirth and smiling toil retired,
Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound,
And news much older than their ale went round.
2440
Where you have friends you should not go to inns.

2441

INNOCENCE.

Goldsmith: Des. Village. Line 219.

The silence often of pure innocence Persuades, when speaking fails. 2442

George Eliot: Agatha

Shaks.: Wint. Tale. Act ii. Sc. 2

Innocence shall make

False accusation blush, and tyranny

Tremble at patience.

2443

Shaks.: Wint. Tale. Act iii. Sc. 2

Against the head which innocence secures,

Insidious Malice aims her darts in vain,

Turn'd backwards by the powerful breath of heav'n.

2444

INSPIRATION.

Dr. Johnson: Irene. Act v. Sc. 6

How can my Muse want subject to invent,

While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent

For every vulgar paper to rehearse?

O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight:
For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thyself dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine, which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.

If my slight Muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.
2445

INSTINCT-
-see Reason.

Then vainly the philosopher avers

Shaks.: Sonnet xxxviii

That reason guides our deeds, and instinct theirs.
How can we justly different causes frame,

When the effects entirely are the same?

Instinct and reason how can we divide?

'Tis the fool's ignorance, and the pedant's pride.

2446 Prior: Solomon on the V. of the World. Bk. i. Line 231

The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine!

Feels at each thread, and lives along the line:

In the nice bee what sense, so subtly true

From poisonous herbs extracts the healing dew?
How instinct varies in the grov'ling swine,
Compar'd, half-reasoning elephant, with thine!
"Twixt that and reason what a nice barrier!
Forever sep'rate, yet forever near.

2447

Pope: Essay on Man. Epis. i. Line 217 Who taught the nations of the field and wood To shun their poison and to choose their food.

Pope: Essay on Man. Epis. iii. Line 99

2448
Learn from the birds what food the thickets yield;
Learn from the beasts the physic of the field;
Thy arts of building from the bee receive;
Learn of the mole to plough, the worm to weave.

2449

Pope: Essay on Man. Epis. iii. Line 173

INSTRUCTION- see Education.

It is a good divine that follows his

Own instructions; I can easier teach twenty
What were good to be done, than be one
Of the twenty to follow mine own teaching:
The brain may devise laws for the blood; but
A hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree.

2450

INTEGRITY

Shaks.: Mer. of Venice. Acti Sc. 2 see Conscience, Honor.

What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted.

2451

INTELLIGENCE.

Shaks.: 2 Henry VI. Act iii. Sc. 2.

"Tis good-will makes intelligence.

2452

INVENTION.

Emerson: The Titmouse. Line 65.

Th' invention all admir'd, and each how he

To be th' inventor miss'd; so easy it seem'd,

Once found, which yet unfound most would have thought Impossible!

2453

IRRESOLUTION

Milton: Par. Lost. Bk. vi. Line 498. see Delay, Doubt.

Like a man to double business bound,

I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect.

2454

ITALY.

Shaks.: Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 3

How has kind heaven adorn'd the happy land,
And scatter'd blessings with a wasteful hand!
But what avail her inexhausted stores,
Her blooming mountains, and her sunny shores,
With all the gifts that heaven and earth impart,
The smiles of nature, and the charms of art,
While proud oppression in her valleys reigns,
And tyranny usurps her happy plains?

2455

Addison: A Letter from Italy. Line 105.

Far to the right where Apennine ascends,
Bright as the summer Italy extends;

Its uplands sloping deck the mountain's side,
Woods over woods in gay theatric pride;

While oft some temple's mould'ring tops between
With venerable grandeur marks the scene.
2456

Goldsmith: Traveller. Line 10%

Italia! O Italia! thou who hast

The fatal gift of beauty, which became

A funeral dower of present woes and past,

On thy sweet brow is sorrow plough'd by shame,
And annals graved in characters of flame.

2457

Byron: Ch. Harold. Canto iv. St. 42

Fair Italy!

Thou art the garden of the world, the home
Of all Art yields, and Nature can decree,
Even in thy desert, what is like to thee?
Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste
More rich than other climes' fertility;
Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced
With an immaculate charm which cannot be defac'd.
2458
Byron: Ch. Harold. Canto iv. St 26

IVY.

Oh! how could fancy crown with thee,

In ancient days, the God of Wine,

And bid thee at the banquet be

Companion of the vine?

Ivy! thy home is where each sound

Of revelry hath long been o'er;

Where song and beaker once went round,

But now are known no more.

2459

Mrs. Hemans: Ivy Song

J.

JANUARY.

Come, ye cold winds, at January's call,

On whistling wings, and with white flakes bestrew

The earth.

2460

JEALOUSY.

Ruskin: The Months.

The venom clamours of a jealous woman Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. 2461

Shaks.: Com. of Errors. Act v. Sc. 1.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. 2462

Shaks.: Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 5. Trifles, light as air,

Are to the jealous confirmations strong
As proofs of Holy Writ.

2463

Shaks.: Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3.

O, what damned minutes tells he o'er,

Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet fondly loves!

2464

Shaks.: Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3

Nothing extenuate,

Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak
Of one, that lov'd not wisely, but too well;

Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
Perplex'd in the extreme.

2465

Shaks.: Othello. Act v. Sc.