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that whether they ever passed in the world or not doth not signify a halfpenny to its instruction or its welfare.
That we may draw something for our advantage out of the foregoing discourse, I must entreat my reader, upon having any company, to examine himself whether he has behaved himself in it like a Drum or a Trumpet, a Violin or a Bass-viol, and accordingly endeavour to mend his music for the future. For my own part, I must confess I was a Drum for many years; until, having polished myself a little in good company, I threw as much of the Trumpet into my conversation as was possible for a man of an impetuous temper, by which mixture of different musics I look upon myself, during the course of many years, to have resembled a Tabor and Pipe. I have since endeavoured at the sweetness of the Lute; but in spite of my resolutions, I must confess, with great confusion, that I find myself daiiy degenerating into a Bagpipe: whether it be the effect of my old age, or of the company I keep, I know not. All that I can do is to keep watch over my conversation, and to silence the drone as soon as I find it begin to hum in my discourse, being determined rather to hear the notes of others, than to play out of time, and encroach upon their parts in the consort by the noise of so tiresome an instrument.
THE FATHER'S ADVICE TO HIS SON.
Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel ; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch’d, unfledged comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, Bear't that the opposer may beware of thee. Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; For the apparel oft proclaims the man. Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
The heart's pride of thy mother, and thy father's chiefest joy;
My gentle one, my blessed one, can that time ever be,
My winsome one, my gallant one, so fair, so happy now,
THE LITTLE FACTORY SLAVE.
TO A MORE FORTUNATE PLAYMATE.
(Grimstone.) OFTEN think how once we used in summer fields to play,
And run about and breathe the air that made us glad and gay: We used to gather buttercups and chase the butter-fly: I loved to feel the breezes list my hair as they went by.
Do you still play in those bright fields, and are the flowers still there?
I hurry home to snatch the meal my mother can supply,
I think upon the factory—the fines that on us wait;
I wonder if I ever shall obtain a holiday!