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Conscience has no more to do with gallantry, than it has with politics.

The Duenna. Act i. Sc. 4.

The Right Honourable gentleman is indebted to his memory for his jests and to his imagination for his facts. *

Speech in Reply to Mr. Dundas.

You write with ease to show your breeding,
But easy writing 's curst hard reading. Clio's Protest.

GEORGE CRABBE. 1754-1832.


H! rather give me commentators plain,

Who with no deep researches vex the brain,
Who from the dark and doubtful love to run,
And hold their glimmering taper to the sun.

The Parish Register. Part i. In this fool's paradise he drank delight.

The Borough. Letter XII. Players. Books cannot always please, however good; Minds are not ever craving for their food.

Ibid. Letter XXIV. Schools. In idle wishes fools supinely stay ; Be there a will, — and wisdom finds a way.

The Birth of Flattery:. * On peut dire que son esprit brille aux dépens de sa mémoire. Le Sage. Gil Blas. Livre üii. Ch. xi. + From Sheridaniana.

Moore's Life of Sheridan. Vol. i. p. 155.
Cf. Milton. Paradise Lost. Book üi. Line 496.

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OT what we wish, but what we want.


ROBERT BURNS. 1759-1796.



THERE sits our sulky, sullen dame,

Gathering her brows like gathering storin, Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

Tam O'Shanter.

His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony ;
Tam lo’ed him like a vera brither-
They had been fou for weeks thegither.

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Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.


But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed ;
Or like the snow-fall in the river,
A moment white, then melts for ever.


That hour, o' night's black arch the keystane.


Inspiring bold John Barleycorn,
What dangers thou canst make us scorn.


As Tammie gloured, amazed and curious,
The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.


The landlord's laugh was ready chorus.

Tan O'Shanter.

Affliction's sons are brothers in distress ;
A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss.

A Winter's Night. Then gently scan your brother man,

Still gentler, sister woman ;
Though they may gang a kennin' wrang,

To step aside is human. Address to the Unco Guid.

What's done we partly may compute,

But know not what's resisted.


If there's a hole in a' your coats,

I rede you tent it ;
A chiel's amang you taking notes,

And, faith, he'll prent it.

On Captain Grose's Peregrinations through Scotland. O wad some power the giftie gie us, To see oursels as others see us ! It wad frae monie a blunder free us, And foolish notion.

To a Louse.

The best laid schemes o’mice and men

Gang aft a-gley;
And leave us naught but grief and pain
For promised joy.

To a Mouse.

Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon. Epistle to a Young Friend.

The fear o'hell's a hangman's whip

To haud the wretch in order ;

But where you feel your honour grip,
Let that aye


Epistle to a Young Friend.
An Atheist's laugh's a poor exchange
For Deity offended!


And may you better reck the rede,

Than ever did th' adviser !


In durance vile here must I wake and

And all my frowzy couch in sorrow steep.*

Epistle from Esopus to Maria.
O Life! how pleasant in thy morning,
Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning!
Cold -- pausing Caution's lesson scorning,

We frisk away,
Like schoolboys at th’expected warning,

To joy and play.

Epistle to James Smith.
His locked, lettered, braw brass collar
Showed him the gentleman and scholar.

The Twa Dogs.
O life ! thou art a galling load,
Along a rough, a weary road,
To wretches such as I !


* Durance vile.-W. KENRICK (1766).

Falstaff's Wedding. Act i. Sc. 2. It will not be amiss to take a view of the effects of this royal servitude and vile durance, which was so deplored in the reign of the last monarch. --BURKE. On the Present Discontent.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to min'? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o' lang syne ?

Auld Lang Syne.

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Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O ;
Her 'prentice han’ she tried on man,
And then she made the lasses, 0 !*

Green Grow the Rasies.
Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn.

Man was made to Mou771. Some wee short hour ayont the twal.

Death and Dr. Hornbook.

* Man was made when Nature was But an apprentice, but woman when she Was a skilful mistress of her art.

Cupid's Whirligig. 1607.

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