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CONTENTMENT - DISCONTENT.
5. For who did ever yet, by honour, wealth,
Or pleasure of the sense, Contentment find?
6. The lion crav'd the fox's art;
7. Sour discontent, that quarrels with our fate,
SIR R. BLACKMORE.
8. He, fairly looking into life's account,
Saw frowns and favours were of like amount;
9. With careless eyes he views the proud,
10. What tho' on hamely fare we dine,
CONVERSATION - LOQUACITY, &c.
11. And passing rich, with forty pounds a year. GOLDSMITH'S Deserted Village.
12. A country-lad is my degree,
And few there are that ken me, O;
13. We heeded not the cold blast, nor the winter's icy air, For we found our climate in the heart, and it was summer there.
J. R. DRAKE.
14. The feeling of sadness and longing,
H. W. LONGfellow.
15. O! dear is my cottage, unclouded by sorrow,
16. 'Tis said that frail, inconstant man,
1. What cracker is this same, that deafs our ears With this abundance of superfluous breath?
O, he's as tedious
J. T. WATSON.
CONVERSATION - LOQUACITY, &c.
Since brevity's the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes-
4. A flourish! trumpets!-strike alarums-drums! Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women Rail
6. Their copious stories, oftentimes begun, End without audience and are never done.
5. Few words shall fit the trespass best,
7. As 't is a greater mystery, in the art
8. For brevity is very good,
When we are, or are not, understood.
9. But still his tongue ran on, the less
11. But fools, to talking ever prone,
10. I never, with important air,
Are sure to make their follies known.
12. In arguing, too, the parson own'd his skill, For, even tho' vanquish'd, he could argue still. GOLDSMITH'S Deserted Village.
13. With words of learned length, and thund'ring sound. GOLDSMITH'S Deserted Village.
14. Too deep for his hearers, still went on refining,
And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining.
15. The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read,
17. A dearth of words a woman need not fear;
That shows or makes you both polite and wise.
16. Be silent always, when you doubt your sense, And speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffidence. POPE'S Essay on Criticism.
18. Talking, she knew not why, and car'd not what.
19. If, in talking from morning till night, A sign of our wisdom there be, The swallows are wiser by right,
For they prattle much faster than we.
20. And there's one rare, strange virtue in their speeches, The secret of their mastery-they are short.
1. The vain coquette each suit disdains,
2. Who hath not heard coquettes complain
3. Nymph of the mincing mouth, and languid eye,
DR. WOLCOT's Peter Pindar.
4. Such is your old coquette, who can't say "No," And won't say "Yes ;" and keeps you on and offing On a lee shore, till it begins to blow;
Then sees your heart wreck'd with an inward scoffing: This works a world of sentimental woe,
And sends new Werters yearly to their coffin.
5. Would you teach her to love?
For a time seem to rove;
At first she may frown in a pet;
But leave her awhile,
She shortly will smile,
And then you may win your coquette.
BYRON'S Don Juan.
6. Can I again that look recall,
That once could make me die for thee?—