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THE RAPE OF THE LOCK.

What dire offence from amorous causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trivial things.

Canto i. Line 1.

And all Arabia breathes from yonder box.

Canto i. Line 134.

On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss, and infidels adore.
Canto ii. Line 7.

If to her share some female errors fall,
Look on her face, and you'll forget them all.
Canto ii. Line 17.

Fair tresses man's imperial race insnare,
And beauty draws us with a single hair.1

Canto ii. Line 27.

Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey, Dost sometimes counsel take- and sometimes Canto iii. Line 7.

tea.

At every word a reputation dies. Canto iii. Line 16.

The hungry judges soon the sentence sign,
And wretches hang, that jurymen may dine.
Canto iii. Line 21.

Coffee, which makes the politician wise,
And see through all things with his half-shut eyes.
Canto iii. Line 117.

The meeting points the sacred hair dissever
From the fair head, for ever, and for ever!
Canto iii. Line 153.

1 Compare Dryden, Persius, Satire i.

Rape of the Lock continued.]

Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane. Canto iv. Line 123.

Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

Canto v. Line 34.

EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT.

PROLOGUE TO THE SATIRES.

Shut, shut the door, good John ! fatigu'd, I said; Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead.

Line I.

Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, They rave, recite, and madden round the land. Line 5.

E'en Sunday shines no sabbath day to me.

Line 12.

Is there a parson much bemus'd in beer,
A maudlin poetess, a rhyming peer,
A clerk foredoom'd his father's soul to cross,
Who pens a stanza when he should engross?
Line 15.

Friend to my life, which did not you prolong, The world had wanted many an idle song.

Line 27.

Oblig'd by hunger and request of friends.

Line 44.

[Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot continued.

Fir'd that the house rejects him, "'Sdeath! I'll

print it,

And shame the fools."

Line 61.

No creature smarts so little as a fool. Line 84.

Destroy his fib, or sophistry—in vain!
The creature's at his dirty work again. Line 91.

As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame,

I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.

Pretty! in amber to observe the forms

Line 127.

Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms! The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, But wonder how the devil they got there.

Line 169.

Means not, but blunders round about a meaning;
And he whose fustian 's so sublimely bad,
It is not poetry, but prose run mad. Line 186.

Should such a man, too fond to rule alone,
Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.
Line 197.

Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
And without sneering teach the rest to sneer;1
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike. Line 201..
1 When needs he must, yet faintly then he praises;
Somewhat the deed, much more the means he raises :
So marreth what he makes, and praising most, dis-
- praises.

P. Fletcher, The Purple Island. Canto vii.

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot continued.]

By flatterers besieg'd,

And so obliging that he ne'er oblig'd;
Like Cato, give his little senate laws,
And sit attentive to his own applause.

Line 207.

Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?

Line 213.

Curst be the verse, how well soe'er it flow,
That tends to make one worthy man my foe.
Line 283.

Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?

Line 307.

Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,
As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.
Line 315.

Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.
Line 333.

That not in fancy's maze he wander'd long,
But stoop'd to truth, and moraliz'd his song.1

Me, let the tender office long engage

To rock the cradle of reposing age,

Line 340.

With lenient arts extend a mother's breath, Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of

death;

Explore the thought, explain the asking eye,

And keep awhile one parent from the sky.

Line 408.

1 See Spenser, Faerie Queene, Introd. St. 1.

SATIRES, EPISTLES, AND ODES OF HORACE.

Lord-Fanny spins a thousand such a day.

Satire i. Book ii. Line 6.

Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet
To run amuck, and tilt at all I meet.

Satire i. Book ii. Line 69.

But touch me, and no minister so sore;
Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time
Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme;
Sacred to ridicule his whole life long,
And the sad burden of some merry song.
Satire i. Book ii. Line 76.

There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl,
The feast of reason and the flow of soul.

Satire i. Book ii. Line 127.

Bare the mean heart that lurks behind a star.

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Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame. Epilogue to the Satires. Dialogue i. Line 136.

To Berkeley every virtue under heaven.

Epilogue to the Satires. Dialogue ii. Line 73. When the brisk minor pants for twenty-one. Epistle i. Book i. Line 38.

1 Compare The Odyssey, Book xv. Line 84.

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