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SOCIETY NECESSARY TO HAPPINESS. Wisdom, though richer than Peruvian mines, And sweeter than the sweet ambrosial hive, What is she but the means of happiness? That unobtain'd, than folly more a fool; A melancholy fool, without her bells. Friendship, the means of wisdom, richly gives The precious end which makes our wisdom wise. Nature, in zeal for human amity, Denies, or damps, an undivided joy. Joy is an impost, joy is an exchange; Joy flies monopolists: it calls for two; Rich fruit! heaven-planted! never pluck'd by one. Needful auxiliars are our friends, to give To social man true relish of himself. Full in ourselves, descending in a line, Pleasure's bright beam is feeble in delight: Delight intense is taken by rebound; Reverberated pleasures fire the breast.



A thousand fantasies
Begin to throng into my memory,
Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire,
And airy tongues that syllable men's names,
And sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses.



Men, like butterflies, Show not their mealy wings but to the summer; And not a man, for being simply man, Hath any honour; but honour for those honours That are without him, as place, riches, favour, Prizes of accident as oft as merit; Which when they fall, as, being slippery standers, The love that lean'd on them is slippery too, Do one pluck down another, and together Die in the fall.



Pale, fearful death with bloody dart doth strike
The wretched caitiff and the king alike.
Untimely never comes the life's last sneeze:
In cradle death may rightly claim his debt-
Straight after birth is due the fatal bier:
By death's perinission th' aged linger here.
Even in the swath-bands our conmission goeth,
To loose thy breath, that yet but youngly bloweth.

Mirror of Magistrates.

THE SUNSHINE OF THE MIND. Thou canst not reach the height that I shall find; A generous soul is sunshine to the mind.

Sir Robert Howard.


Religion's ray no clouds obscure,

But o'er the Christian's soul
It sheds a radiance calm and pure,

Though tempests round him roll;
His heart may break ’neath sorrow's stroke,

But to its latest thrill,
Like diamonds shining when they're broke,

Religion lights it still.

WHY ARE WE NOT IN THE SUNSHINE? If thou wouldest have more light and heat, why art thou no more in the sunshine ? For want of this recourse to heaven, thy soul is a lamp that is not lighted, and thy duties as a sacrifice which hath no fire. Fetch me coal daily from this altar, and see if thy offering will not burn. · Light thy lamp at this flame, and feed it daily with oil from hence, and see if it will not gloriously shine. Keep close to this reviving fire, and see if thy affections will not be warm.

Great brains (like brightest glass) crack straight, while

Of stone or wood hold out, and fear not blows;
And we their hoary heads can see,
Whose wit was never their mortality.

Bishop Earle.

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OF JESTING. It is good to make a jest, but not to make a trade of jesting. The Earl of Leicester, knowing that Queen Elizabeth was much delighted to see a gentleman dance well, brought the master of a dancing-school to dance before her. "Pooh,” said the queen, “it is his profession; I will not see him."

Wanton jests make fools laugh, and wise men frown.

Jest not with the two-edged sword of God's Word. Will nothing please thee to wash thy hands in but the font, or to drink healths in but the church chalice?

Let not thy jests, like mummy, be made of dead men's flesh. Abuse not any that are departed, for to wrong their memories is to rob their ghosts of their windingsheets.

Scoff not at the natural defects of any which are not in their power to amend. Oh! 'tis cruelty to beat a cripple with his own crutches.

No time to break jests when the heart-strings are about to be broken.

He that will lose a friend for a jest, deserves to die a beggar by the bargain.

Thomas Fuller.

Sad sorrow, like a heavy, ringing bell,
Once sct in ringing, with his own weight goes,
Then little strength rings out the doleful knell.


Open You

CHURCH MUSIC. Sweetest of sweets, I thank you: when displeasure

Did through my body wound niy mind, You took me thence, and in your house of pleasure * A dainty lodging me assign’d. Now I in you without a body move,

Rising and falling with your wings: We both together sweetly live and love,

Yet say sometimes, God help poor kings.
Comfort, I'll die; for if you post from me,

Sure I shall do so, and much more:
But if I travel in your company,
You know the way to heaven's door.



'Tis by comparison, an easy task
Earth to despise; but to converse with Heaven,
This is not easy. To relinquish all
We have, or hope, of happiness and joy,
And stand in freedom loosen'd from the world,
I deem not arduous; lat must needs confess,
That 'tis a thing impossible to frame
Conceptions equal to the soul's desires;
And the most difficult of tasks, to keep
Heights which the soul is competent to gain.


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