Since only pleasure breeds fin's appetite,
Which ftill by pleasant objects is infus'd;
Since 'tis provok'd to what it doth commit,
And ills provok'd may plead to be excus'd;
Why fhould our fins, which not a moment last,
(For, to eternity compar'd, extent
Of life, is, ere we name it, ftopt and past)
Receive a doom of endless punishment?
If fouls to hell's vaft prifon never come
Committed for their crimes, but deftin'd be,
Like bondmen born, whose prison is their home,
And long ere they were bound could not be free;
Then hard is destiny's dark law, whose text
We are forbid to read, yet muft obey;
And reafon with her useless eyes is vext,
Which strive to guide her where they fee no way.
Sir W. Davenant's Philofopher to the Dying Chriftian.
Who would be wicked? When the very crime
Conceiv'd, torments our fouls; and at the time
When 'tis deliver'd, like an engine broke,
Destroys us with the force of our own stroke.
In flesh or spirit we are finners all,
But fpiritual fins I think most dangerous:
Sins of the fpirit will to age endure;
But a flesh-wound, time feldom fails to cure.
Becomes a virtue, that chastises fin.
SINCERITY.
Men should be what they seem:
Or, thofe that be not, would they might feem none.
I cannot hide what I am: I must be
Sad when I have cause, and smile at no man's
VOL. III.
Jefts; eat when I have ftomach, and wait for
No man's leifure; fleep when I am drowfy,
And tend on no man's business; laugh when I
Am merry, and claw no man in his humour.
Shakespear's Much ado about Nothing.
His nature is too noble for the world:
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,
Or Jove for's power to thunder: His heart's his mouth:
What his breast forges that his tongue must vent;
And, being angry, does forget that ever
He heard the name of death.
While others fifh with craft for great opinion,
I, with great truth, catch mere fimplicity.
While fome, with cunning, gild their copper crowns,
With truth and plainnefs, I do wear mine bare.
Fear not my truth; the moral of my wit
Is plain and true; there's all the reach of it.
Shakespear's Troilus and Creffida.
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles;
His love fincere, his thoughts immaculate ;
His tears pure meffengers fent from his heart;
His heart as far from fraud, as heav'n from earth.
Shakespear's Two Gentlemen of Verona.
What is it troublesome to be belov'd?
How is it then, Charinus, to be loath'd!
If I had done like Chloris, fcorn'd your fuit,
And spurn'd your paffion in disdainful fort,
I had been woo'd, and fought, and highly priz'd ;
But having n'other art to win thy love,
Save by discov'ring mine, I am defpis'd;
As if you would not have the thing you fought,
Unless you knew it were not to be got:
And now because I lie here at thy feet,
The humble booty of thy conqu'ring eyes,
And lay my heart all open in thy fight,
And tell thee I am thine, and tell thee right;
And do not fute my looks, nor cloath my words
In other colours than my thoughts do wear,
But do thee right in all, thou fcornest me
As if thou didst not love fincerity,
Never did cryftal more apparently
Prefent the colour it contain'd within,
Than have these eyes, thefe tears, this tongue of mine
Bewray'd my heart, and told how much I'm thine.
Daniel's Arcadia. What hearts do think, the tongues were made to fhew. E. of Sterling's Crafus.
Bashfulness feize you- -we pronounce
Boldly robbery, murder, treafon; which
Deeds must needs be far more loathfome
Than an act which is so natural, just,
And neceffary, as that of procreation:
You fhall have an hypocritical, veftal
Virgin fpeak that, with clofe teeth publickly,
Which he will receive with open mouth
Privately. For my own part, I confider
Nature without apparel; without disguifing
Of cuftom or complement; I give thoughts
Words, and words truth, and truth boldness. She whose
Honeft freeness makes it her virtue, to
Speak what the thinks, will make it her neceffity
I cannot cloath my thoughts, and just defence
In fuch an abject phrafe, but 'twill appear
Equal, if not above my low condition.
I need no bombaft language, ftol'n from fuch,
As make nobility from prodigious terms
The hearers understand not; I bring with me
No wealth to boast of; neither can I number
Uncertain fortune's favours, with my merits:
I dare not force affection, or prefume
To cenfure her difcretion, that looks on me
As a weak man, and not her fancy's idol.
Her words are trufty heralds to her mind.
John Ford's Love's Sacrifice. Wealth fhall not now be made the price of blood,
Nor to be rich be reck'ned an offence;
Though it be valu'd lefs than to be good,
And merit be preferr'd to innocence :
Men fhall not most be priz'd who most appear,
Nor known for what they have, but what they are.
Sir Thomas Higgons on the Restoration.
Men that are hearty and fincere, come late
With promises, and early with their deeds.
Sir W. Davenant's Platonick Lovers.
Innocence below, enjoys
Security, and quiet fleeps; murder's not heard of,
Treachery is a stranger there; they enjoy
Their friends and loves, without ravishment;
They are all equal, ev'ry one's a prince,
And rules himself: They fpeak not with their eyes,
Or brows, but with the tongue, and that too dwells
In the heart.
Sicily and Naples.
God weighs the heart; whom we can never move
By outward actions, without inward love.
SINGLE LIFE.
Wrong not thy fair youth, nor the world deprive
Of these rare parts which nature hath thee lent,
Twere pity thou by niggardice should'st thrive,
Whose wealth by waxing craveth to be spent ;
For which, thou of the wisest shall be fhent :
Like to fome rich churl hoarding up his pelf,
Both to wrong others, and to starve himself.
Drayton's Legend of Matilda.
To man's blefs'd liberty! All this world's a prison,
Heav'n the high wall about it, fin the gaoler;
But th' iron fhackles weighing down our heels,
Are only women; those light angels turn us
To fleshly devils. I the fex admire,
But never will fit near their wanton fire.
Dekker's Wonder of a Kingdom.
O fie upon this fingle life! forego it.
We read how Daphne, for her peevish flight
Became a fruitless bay-tree: Syrinx turn'd
To the pale empty reed: Anaxarete
Was frozen into marble: Whereas thofe
Which marry'd, or prov'd kind unto their friends,
Were by a gracious influence, tranfhap'd
Into the olive, pomgranet, mulberry ;
Became flow'rs, precious ftones, or eminent ftars.
Webster's Dutchess of Malfy.
Say a man never marry, nor have children;
What takes that from him? Only the bare name
Of being a father, or the weak delight
To fee the little wanton ride a cock-horfe
Upon a painted flick, or hear him chatter
Like a taught starling.
Like a free wanton jennet in the meadows,
I look about, and neigh; take hedge and ditch,
Feed in my neighbours paftures, pick my choice
Of all their fair maned mares; but marry'd once,
A man is ftak'd, or pounded, and cannot
Graze beyond his own hedge.
Malfinger and Field's Fatal Dowry.
-A batchelor
May thrive by observation on a little ;
A fingle life's no burthen: but to draw
In yokes is chargeable, and will require
A double maintenance.
John Ford's Fancys chaste and noble.
Some more, like you, might pow'rfully confute
Th' oppofers of priests marriage, by the fruit :
And, fince 'tis known for all their strait vow'd life,
They like the fex in any ftile but wife;
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