Take back the sigh thy lips of art
In passion's moment breath'd to me;
Yet, no- it must not, will not part,
'Tis now the life-breath of my heart,
And has become too pure for thee!
Take back the kiss, that faithless sigh
With all the warmth of truth imprest;
Yet, no- the fatal kiss may lie,
Upon thy lips its sweets would die,
Or bloom to make a rival blest!
Take back the vows that, night and day,
My heart receiv'd, I thought, from thine;
Yet, ro- -allow them still to stay,
'They might some other heart betray,
As sweetly as they 've ruin'd mine!
I hate ingratitude more in a man
Than lying, vainness, babbling drunkenness, Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption Inhabits our frail blood.
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here.
Shaks. Twelfth Night. Create her child of spleen, that it may live,
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand
For lifting food to 't.
Shaks. Lear.
We'll no more meet, no more see one another:-
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter,
Or rather, a disease that 's in my flesh,
Which I must needs call mine; thou art a boil,
A plague-sore, or imbossed carbuncle,
In my corrupted blood: but I'll not chide thee.
Shaks. Lear.
This was the most unkindest cut of all:
For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms,
Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty
heart;
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's statue,
Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.
Shaks. Julius Cæsar.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude.
Pr'ythee, lead me in:
There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny; 't is the king's; my robe,
And my integrity to heaven, is all
I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
Shaks. As you like it. I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
Why this
Have left me naked to mine enemies!
Is the world's soul; and just of the same piece
Is every flatterer's spirit. Who can call him
His friend, that dips in the same dish? for, in
My knowing, Timon hath been this lord's father,
And kept his credit with his purse;
Supported his estate; nay, Timon's money
Has paid his men their wages; he ne'er drinks,
But Timon's silver treads upon his lip;
And yet (O see the monstrousness of man
When he looks out in an ungrateful shape)
He does deny him.
Shaks. Timon of Athens.
I am rapt, and cannot
I served thee fifteen hard campaigns,
And pitch'd thy standards in these foreign fields;
By rae thy greatness grew; thy years grew with it;
But thy ingratitude out-grew them both.
Dryden's Don Sebastian.
The wretch whom gratitude once fails to bind,
To truth or honour let him lay no claim;
But stand confess'd the brute disguis'd in man.
Frowde's Philotas.
They that do pull down churches, and deface
The holiest altars, cannot hurt the Godhead.
A calm wise man may show as much true valour,
Amidst these popular provocations,
As can an able captain show security,
By his brave conduct through an enemy's country.
A wise man never goes the people's way;
But as the planets still move contrary
To the world's motion; so doth he to opinion:
He will examine if those accidents
Which common fame calls injuries, happen to him
Deservedly or no? Come they deservedly?
Brooke's Earl of Warwick. They are no wrongs then; but punishments:
Of deeper dye than all the guilty train
Of human vices, 't is ingratitude.
Will ye not take the blessings given,
The priceless boon of ruddy health,
The sleep unbroken, peace unriven,
The cup of joy, the mine of wealth-
Will ye not take them all, and yet
Walk from the cradle to the grave,
Enjoying, boasting, and forget
To thank the gracious God who gave ?
If light wrongs touch me not,
No more shall great; if not a few, not many:
There's nought so sacred with us, but may find
A sacrilegious person; yet the thing is
No less divine, 'cause the profane can reach it.
Jonson's New Inn.
When she encounters virtue, but comes off
Both lame and less. Why should a wise man then
Confess himself the weaker by the feeling
Of a fool's wrong? There may an injury
Be meant me; I may choose, if I will take it:
But we are now come to that delicacy
And tender.ess of sense, we think an insolence
Worse than injury; base words worse than deeds:
We are not so much troubled with the wrong,
As with the opinion of the wrong: like children,
We are made afraid with vizards. Such poor
As is the lic, or common words of spite,
Wise laws thought never worthy of revenge;
And 't is the narrowness of human nature,
Our poverty and beggary of spirit,
If undeservedly, and he not guilty?
The doer of them first should blush — not he.
Jonson's New Inn.
The purpose of an injury;-'t is to vex
And trouble me: now nothing can do that
To him that's truly valiant. He that is affected
With the least injury, is less than it.
Jonson's New Inn.
For evils which are 'gainst another done,
Repentance makes no satisfaction
To him that feels the smart.
Wilkins's Miseries of Enforced Marriage.
I have learn'd to endure, I have hugg'd my des pair,
I scourge back the madness that else would
invade;
On my brain falls the drop after drop, yet I bear
Lest thou should'st discover the wreck thou
hast made.
Mrs. E. Oakes Smith.
To take exception at these things. He laugh'd With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay;
He broke a jest! a third took place of me!
How most ridiculous quarrels are all these?
Notes of a queasy, and sick stomach, labouring
With want of a true injury! the main part
Of the wrong, is our vice of taking it!
Jonson's New Inn.
With broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show,
Rang'd o'er the chimney, glisten'd in a row.
Goldsmith's Deserted Village.
Where village statesmen talk'd with looks pro-
found,
And news much older than their ale went round.
Goldsmith's Deserted Village
Souls of poets dead and gone,
What elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
INNOCENCE.
What I did I did in honour,
O innocence, the sacred amulet
'Gainst all the poisons of infirmity,
Of all misfortunes, injury and death!
That makes a man in tune still in himself;
Keats. Free from the hell to be his own accuser,
Ever in quiet, endless joys enjoying;
Led by the impartial conduct of my soul;
And never shall you see that I will beg,
If truth and upright innocency fail me.
Shaks. King Henry IV.
It touches us not: let the gall'd jade
Wince, our withers are unwrung.
Shaks. Hamlet.
My lords, I care not, (so much I am happy
Above a number,) if my actions
Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw them,
Envy and base opinion set against them,
To know my life so even.
I humbly thank your highness: And am right glad to catch this good occasion Most thoroughly to be winnow'd where my chaff And corn shall fly asunder: for I know, There's none stands under more calumnious tongues,
Than I myself, poor man.
No strife, nor no sedition in his powers; No motion in his will against his reason; No thought 'gainst thought—
But all parts in him friendly and secure.
Fruitful of all best things in all worst seasons,
He can with ev'ry wish be in their plenty;
When the infectious guilt of one foul crime
Destroys the free content of all our time.
Chapman's Byron's Conspiracy. Part I I hope no other hope; who bears a spotless breast, Doth want no comfort else, howe'er distrest. Dauborne's Poor Man's Comfort.
As in a gentle slumber, pass away!
But to cut off the knotty thread of life
In guilty men, must force stern Atropos
To use her sharp knife often.
Shall fall on me, like brittle shafts on armour, That break themselves; or like waves against a rock,
Shaks. Henry VIII. That leave no sign of their ridiculous fury
A thousand blushing apparitions start
Into her face; a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes;
And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire,
To burn the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth.
Shaks. Much ado about Nothing.
We were as twin'd lambs, that did frisk i' the sun,
And bleat the one at the other: what we chang'd
Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor dream'd
That any did.
False accusation blush, and tyranny Tremble at patience.
Misfortune may benight the wicked; she
Who knows no guilt, can sink beneath no fear.
Habbington's Queen of Arragon
'Tis modesty in sin to practise ev'ry
Disguise to hide it from the world:
Shaks. Winter's Tale. But creatures free from guilt affect the sun,
And hate the dark, because it hides their inno
Not, though the malice of traducing tongues,
The open vastness of a tyrant's ear,
The senseless rigour of the wrested laws,
Or the red eyes of strain'd authority,
Should in a point meet all, to take his life;
His innocency is armour 'gainst all these.
Jonson's Poetaster.
Sir W. Davenant's Cruel Brother Since still my duty did my actions steer, I'll not disguise my innocence by fear; Lest I the saving of my life repent: I'll rather bear, than merit punishment. Earl of Orrery's Mustapha
I'll rather to a punishment submit, Than to the guilt of what may merit it.
Earl of Orrery's Tryphon. Heaven may awhile correct the virtuous, Yet it will wipe their eyes again, and make Their faces whiter with their tears. Innocence Conceal'd is the stol'n pleasure of the gods, Which never ends in shame, as that of men Doth oftentimes do; but like the sun breaks forth, When it hath gratified another world; And to our unexpecting eyes appears More glorious through its late obscurity.
John Fountain's Rewards of Virtue. So pray'd they innocent, and to their thoughts Firm peace recover'd soon and wonted calm. Milton's Paradise Lost. Only add
Deeds to thy knowledge answerable, add faith,
Add virtue, patience, temperance, add love,
By name to come call'd charity, the soul
Of all the rest; then wilt thou not be loath
To leave this paradise, but shalt possess
A paradise within thee, happier far.
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'Midst summer's plenty, thinks of winter's want, By constant journeys careful to prepare Her stores; and bring home the corny ear; By what instruction does she bite the grain, Lest hid in earth, and taking root again, Milton's Paradise Lost. It might elude the foresight of her care? Distinct in either insects' deed appear The marks of thought, contrivance, hope, and fear. Prior's Soloman.
There is no courage but in innocence;
No constancy, but in an honest cause.
Southern's Fate of Capua.
I am arm'd with innocence, Less penetrable than the steel-ribb'd coats That harness round thy warriors.
Madden's Themistocles. Against the head which innocence secures, Insidious malice aims her darts in vain; Turn'd backwards by the pow'rful breath of heav'n. Dr. Johnson's Irene. Her manners by the world refined, Left all the taint of modish vice behind, And made each charm of polish'd courts agree With candid truth's simplicity, And uncorrupted innocence.
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Evil like us they shun, and covet good;
Abhor the poison, and receive the food.
Like us they love or hate; like us they know
To joy the friend, or grapple with the foe.
With seeming thought their action they intend;
And use the means proportion'd to the end;
Then vainly the philosopher avers
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.
Prior's Soloman.
Say, where full instinct is the unerring guide,
What hope or council can they need beside?
Reason, however able, cool at best,
Cares not for service, or but serves when prest:
Stays till we call, and then not often near;
Sure never to o'ershoot, but just to hit;
But honest instinct comes a volunteer;
While still too wide or short is human wit.
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