Plautus

1:Let deeds match words.
~ Plautus,

2:Nothing but heaven itself is better than a friend who is really a friend. ~ Plautus,

* WISDOM TROVE *

* NEWFULLDB 2.4M *

1:All men love themselves. ~ Plautus,

2:Food of Acheron. (Grave.) ~ Plautus,

3:Let deeds match words.
~ Plautus,

4:Man is no man, but a wolf ~ Plautus,

5:Badly gotten, badly spent. ~ Plautus,

6:Courage is its own reward. ~ Plautus,

7:No blessing lasts forever. ~ Plautus,

8:And one eye-witness weighs ~ Plautus,

9:Fire is next akin to smoke. ~ Plautus,

10:Man proposes, God disposes. ~ Plautus,

11:Wine is a cunning wrestler. ~ Plautus,

12:You drown him by your talk. ~ Plautus,

13:Flame is very near to smoke. ~ Plautus,

14:Modesty becomes a young man. ~ Plautus,

15:Confidence begets confidence. ~ Plautus,

16:I am myself my own commander. ~ Plautus,

17:The stronger always succeeds. ~ Plautus,

18:You will stir up the hornets. ~ Plautus,

19:The evil that we know is best. ~ Plautus,

20:Feast today makes fast tomorrow ~ Plautus,

21:Laws are subordinate to custom. ~ Plautus,

22:Modesty should accompany youth. ~ Plautus,

23:Ones oldest friend is the best. ~ Plautus,

24:Smooth words in place of gifts. ~ Plautus,

25:A word to the wise is sufficient ~ Plautus,

26:Let deeds correspond with words. ~ Plautus,

27:He whom the Gods love dies young. ~ Plautus,

28:It is easy to rule over the good. ~ Plautus,

29:No man is wise enough by himself. ~ Plautus,

30:To snatch the worm from the trap. ~ Plautus,

31:Feast to-day makes fast to-morrow. ~ Plautus,

32:Good things soon find a purchaser. ~ Plautus,

33:He can do most who has most power. ~ Plautus,

34:No man has perpetual good fortune. ~ Plautus,

35:Practice yourself what you preach. ~ Plautus,

36:You will not be a chip the richer. ~ Plautus,

37:If you want to do something, do it! ~ Plautus,

38:The sea is certainly common to all. ~ Plautus,

39:Worthy things happen to the worthy. ~ Plautus,

40:I suspect that hunger was my mother. ~ Plautus,

41:Never speak ill of an absent friend. ~ Plautus,

42:Riches, rightly used, breed delight. ~ Plautus,

43:Courage in danger is half the battle. ~ Plautus,

44:It is best to know the worst at once. ~ Plautus,

45:It is difficult to fly without wings. ~ Plautus,

46:Your wealth is where your friends are ~ Plautus,

47:A man with courage has every blessing. ~ Plautus,

48:A mouse relies not solely on one hole. ~ Plautus,

49:Fortitude is a great help in distress. ~ Plautus,

50:In everything the middle road is best. ~ Plautus,

51:The gods play games with men as balls. ~ Plautus,

52:A mouse does not rely on just one hole. ~ Plautus,

53:Courage easily finds its own eloquence. ~ Plautus,

54:Feast to-day makes fast to-morrow. Lat. ~ Plautus,

55:He is hailed a conqueror of conquerors. ~ Plautus,

56:He who dies for virtue does not perish. ~ Plautus,

57:I count him lost, who is lost to shame. ~ Plautus,

58:It is much easier to begin than to end. ~ Plautus,

59:Drink, live like the Greeks, eat, gorge. ~ Plautus,

60:Where there are friends there is wealth. ~ Plautus,

61:Your piping-hot lie is the best of lies. ~ Plautus,

62:Arrogance is the outgrowth of prosperity. ~ Plautus,

63:If you spend a thing you can not have it. ~ Plautus,

64:It well becomes a young man to be modest. ~ Plautus,

65:Not every age is fit for childish sports. ~ Plautus,

66:To make any gain some outlay is necessary. ~ Plautus,

67:For nobody is curious, who isn't malevolent. ~ Plautus,

68:Let not your expenditure exceed your income. ~ Plautus,

69:To waste one's breath; to pump into a sieve. ~ Plautus,

70:You love a nothing when you love an ingrate. ~ Plautus,

71:Ah yes, the gods use us mortals as footballs! ~ Plautus,

72:How great in number are the little minded men ~ Plautus,

73:If you speak insults you will hear them also. ~ Plautus,

74:It is well for one to know more than he says. ~ Plautus,

75:Nothing is more annoying than a tardy friend. ~ Plautus,

76:What is thine is mine, and all mine is thine. ~ Plautus,

77:What is yours is mine, and all mine is yours. ~ Plautus,

78:Always bring money along with your complaints. ~ Plautus,

79:I seek the utmost pleasure and the least pain. ~ Plautus,

80:It is a great plague to be too handsome a man. ~ Plautus,

81:Not by age but by capacity is wisdom acquired. ~ Plautus,

82:Patience is the best remedy for every trouble. ~ Plautus,

83:To love is human, it is also human to forgive. ~ Plautus,

84:A woman smells well when she smells of nothing. ~ Plautus,

85:'He means well' is useless unless he does well. ~ Plautus,

86:He that would eat the nut must crack the shell. ~ Plautus,

87:He who seeks for gain, must be at some expense. ~ Plautus,

88:It is easier to begin well than to finish well. ~ Plautus,

89:Keep what you have got; the known evil is best. ~ Plautus,

90:One eye witness is better than ten hear sayers. ~ Plautus,

91:The mind is hopeful; success is in God's hands. ~ Plautus,

92:Wisdom is not attained by years, but by ability ~ Plautus,

93:A contented mind is the best source for trouble. ~ Plautus,

94:A woman without paint is like food without salt. ~ Plautus,

95:How often the highest talent lurks in obscurity. ~ Plautus,

96:I esteem death a trifle, if not caused by guilt. ~ Plautus,

97:That least pleases us which is most urged on us. ~ Plautus,

98:You must spend money, if you wish to make money. ~ Plautus,

99:A mouse never entrusts his life to only one hole. ~ Plautus,

100:A woman finds it much easier to do ill than well. ~ Plautus,

101:Good merchandise, even hidden, soon finds buyers. ~ Plautus,

102:In wondrous ways do the gods make sport with men. ~ Plautus,

103:Know not what you know, and see not what you see. ~ Plautus,

104:There can be no profit, if the outlay exceeds it. ~ Plautus,

105:He who would eat the kernel, must crack the shell. ~ Plautus,

106:I have lost my oil and my labor. (Labored in vain.) ~ Plautus,

107:Poverty is a thorough instructress in all the arts. ~ Plautus,

108:Spice a dish with love and it pleases every palate. ~ Plautus,

109:The greatest talents often lie buried out of sight. ~ Plautus,

110:Man is not man, but a wolf to those he does not know. ~ Plautus,

111:Woman is certainly the daughter of Delay personified! ~ Plautus,

112:Bad conduct soils the finest ornament more than filth. ~ Plautus,

113:Find me a reasonable lover against his weight in gold. ~ Plautus,

114:He who is most on his guard is often himself taken in. ~ Plautus,

115:It is difficult to whistle and drink at the same time. ~ Plautus,

116:We only appreciate the comforts of life in their loss. ~ Plautus,

117:He who bravely endures evils, in time reaps the reward. ~ Plautus,

118:homini lupus’, said Plautus. ‘Man is a wolf to man. ~ Matt Ridley,

119:There are games in which it is better to lose than win. ~ Plautus,

120:The woman who has the best perfume is she who has none. ~ Plautus,

121:If you are content, you have enough to live comfortably. ~ Plautus,

122:It is sheer folly to take unwilling hounds to the chase. ~ Plautus,

123:Let us celebrate the occasion with wine and sweet words. ~ Plautus,

124:Things unhoped for happen oftener than things we desire. ~ Plautus,

125:Every one can remember that which has interested himself. ~ Plautus,

126:How often we see the greatest genius buried in obscurity! ~ Plautus,

127:It is wisdom to think upon anything before we execute it. ~ Plautus,

128:There is indeed a God that hears and sees whate'er we do. ~ Plautus,

129:Vulgarity of manners defiles fine garments more than mud. ~ Plautus,

130:You little know what a ticklish thing it is to go to law. ~ Plautus,

131:Good courage in a bad affair is half of the evil overcome. ~ Plautus,

132:He is a friend indeed who proves himself a friend in need. ~ Plautus,

133:I trust no rich man who is officiously kind to a poor man. ~ Plautus,

134:Unexpected results are the rule rather than the exception. ~ Plautus,

135:We are pouring our words into a sieve, and lose our labor. ~ Plautus,

136:Where there are sheep, the wolves are never very far away. ~ Plautus,

137:A well-balanced mind is the best remedy against affliction. ~ Plautus,

138:Enemies carry a report in form different from the original. ~ Plautus,

139:In grasping at uncertainties we lost that which is certain. ~ Plautus,

140:I regard that man as lost, who has lost his sense of shame. ~ Plautus,

141:The prudent man really frames his own fortunes for himself. ~ Plautus,

142:Do you never look at yourself when you abuse another person? ~ Plautus,

143:I am undone! I have smashed the waggon. [I have ruined all.] ~ Plautus,

144:If I can only keep my good name, I shall have riches enough. ~ Plautus,

145:I have taken a wife, I have sold my sovereignty for a dowry. ~ Plautus,

146:Little do you know what a gloriously uncertain thing law is. ~ Plautus,

147:The fool too late, his substance eaten up, reckons the cost. ~ Plautus,

148:As long as she is wise and good, a girl has sufficient dowry. ~ Plautus,

149:Man's fortune is usually changed at once; life is changeable. ~ Plautus,

150:Things we do not expect, happen more frequently than we wish. ~ Plautus,

151:To an honest man, it is an honor to have remembered his duty. ~ Plautus,

152:Are you not accustomed to look at home, when you abuse others? ~ Plautus,

153:Courage is to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. ~ Plautus,

154:Disgrace is immortal, and living even when one thinks it dead. ~ Plautus,

155:Fortune moulds and circumscribes human affairs as she pleases. ~ Plautus,

156:If you say hard things you must expect to hear them in return. ~ Plautus,

157:Nothing is there more friendly to a man than a friend in need. ~ Plautus,

158:Things we not hope for often come to pass than things we wish. ~ Plautus,

159:Even the whole of life is not sufficient for thorough learning. ~ Plautus,

160:Flying without feathers is not easy: my wings have no feathers. ~ Plautus,

161:He is happy in his wisdom who has learned at another's expense. ~ Plautus,

162:If you are wise, be wise; keep what goods the gods provide you. ~ Plautus,

163:That which you know, know not; and that which you see, see not. ~ Plautus,

164:The gods give that man some profit to whom they are propitious. ~ Plautus,

165:If you strike the goads with your fists, your hands suffer most. ~ Plautus,

166:Know this, that troubles come swifter than the things we desire. ~ Plautus,

167:Out of many evils the evil which is least is the least of evils. ~ Plautus,

168:It is our human lot, it is heaven's will, that sorrow follow joy. ~ Plautus,

169:It is not fair to treat as serious that which is only said in joke. ~ Plautus,

170:Nothing is more wretched than the mind of a man conscious of guilt. ~ Plautus,

171:Remind a man of what he remembers, and you will make him forget it. ~ Plautus,

172:If anything is spoken in jest, it is not fair to turn it to earnest. ~ Plautus,

173:I love truth and wish to have it always spoken to me: I hate a liar. ~ Plautus,

174:I much prefer a compliment, even if insincere, to sincere criticism. ~ Plautus,

175:Men understand the worth of blessings only when they have lost them. ~ Plautus,

176:He gains wisdom in a happy way, who gains it by another's experience. ~ Plautus,

177:We can more easily endure that which shames than that which vexes us. ~ Plautus,

178:Without feathers it isn't easy to fly: my wings have got no feathers. ~ Plautus,

179:Because those, who twit others with their faults, should look at home. ~ Plautus,

180:He who accuses another of wrong should look well into his own conduct. ~ Plautus,

181:He who falls in love meets a worse fate than he who leaps from a rock. ~ Plautus,

182:He that's in love, i' faith, even if he is hungry, isn't hungry at all. ~ Plautus,

183:How bitter it is to reap a harvest of evil for good that you have done! ~ Plautus,

184:No man will be respected by others who is despised by his own relatives. ~ Plautus,

185:It is only when we have lost them that we fully appreciate our blessings. ~ Plautus,

186:Nothing but heaven itself is better than a friend who is really a friend. ~ Plautus,

187:Nothing but heaven itself is better than a friend who is really a friend. ~ Plautus,

188:It wasn't for nothing that the raven was just now croaking on my left hand. ~ Plautus,

189:It is a bitter disappointment when you have sown benefits, to reap injuries. ~ Plautus,

190:It is not without a purpose when a rich man greets a poor one with kindness. ~ Plautus,

191:It is common to forget a man and slight him if his good will cannot help you. ~ Plautus,

192:It is wretched business to be digging a well just as thirst is mastering you. ~ Plautus,

193:That's a miserable and cursed word, to say I had, when what I have is nothing. ~ Plautus,

194:That wife is an enemy to her husband who is given in marriage against her will. ~ Plautus,

195:The Bell never rings of itself; unless some one handles or moves it it is dumb. ~ Plautus,

196:The man who masters his own soul will forever be called conqueror of conquerors. ~ Plautus,

197:In everything the middle course is the best; everything in excess brings trouble. ~ Plautus,

198:That man is worthless who knows how to receive a favor, but not how to return one. ~ Plautus,

199:There are occasions when it is undoubtedly better to incur loss than to make gain. ~ Plautus,

200:Things which you do not hope happen more frequently than things which you do hope. ~ Plautus,

201:In everything the middle course is best: all things in excess bring trouble to men. ~ Plautus,

202:I've seen many men avoid the region of good advice before they were really near it. ~ Plautus,

203:This is the great evil in wine, it first seizes the feet; it is a cunning wrestler. ~ Plautus,

204:He is a friend who, in dubious circumstances, aids in deeds when deeds are necessary. ~ Plautus,

205:The day, water, sun, moon, night - I do not have to purchase these things with money. ~ Plautus,

206:If you squander on a holyday, you will want on a workday unless you have been sparing. ~ Plautus,

207:It is customary these days to ignore what should be done in favour of what pleases us. ~ Plautus,

208:The poor man who enters into a partnership with one who is rich makes a risky venture. ~ Plautus,

209:This is the great fault of wine; it first trips up the feet: it is a cunning wrestler. ~ Plautus,

210:He whom the gods love dies young, whilst he is full of health, perception, and judgment. ~ Plautus,

211:In misfortune if you cultivate a cheerful disposition you will reap the advantage of it. ~ Plautus,

212:It is the nature of the unfortunate to be spiteful, and to envy those who are well to do. ~ Plautus,

213:That man will never be unwelcome to others who makes himself agreeable to his own family. ~ Plautus,

214:Every man, however wise, needs the advice of some sagacious friend in the affairs of life. ~ Plautus,

215:All good men and women should be on their guard to avoid guilt, and even the suspicion of it. ~ Plautus,

216:He who tries to protect himself from deception is often cheated, even when most on his guard. ~ Plautus,

217:You have eaten a meal dangerously seasoned. [You have laid up a grief in store for yourself.] ~ Plautus,

218:He who rushes headlong into love will fare worse than if he had cast himself from a precipice. ~ Plautus,

219:If you have overcome your inclination and not been overcome by it, you have reason to rejoice. ~ Plautus,

220:He who has in due season become rich, unless he saves in due season, will in due season starve. ~ Plautus,

221:No guest is so welcome in a friend's house that he will not become a nuisance after three days. ~ Plautus,

222:He whom the gods love dies young, while he is in health, has his senses and his judgments sound. ~ Plautus,

223:It is a tiresome way of speaking, when you should despatch the business, to beat about the bush. ~ Plautus,

224:When you fly from temptation, don't leave a forwarding address. Where there's smoke there's fire. ~ Plautus,

225:To a well deserving person God will show favor. To an ill deserving person He will simply be just. ~ Plautus,

226:We should try to succeed by merit, not by favor. He who does well will always have patrons enough. ~ Plautus,

227:And so it happens oft in many instances; more good is done without our knowledge than by us intended. ~ Plautus,

228:To blow and to swallow at the same time is not easy; I cannot at the same time be here and also there. ~ Plautus,

229:Whatever disgrace we may have deserved, it is almost always in our power to re-establish our character. ~ Plautus,

230:Consider the little mouse, how sagacious an animal it is which never entrusts its life to one hole only. ~ Plautus,

231:It does not matter a feather whether a man be supported by patron or client, if he himself wants courage. ~ Plautus,

232:Give assistance, and receive thanks lighter than a feather: injure a man, and his wrath will be like lead. ~ Plautus,

233:The man who would be fully employed should procure a ship or a woman, for no two things produce more trouble. ~ Plautus,

234:There's no such thing, you know, as picking out the best woman: it's only a question of comparative badness, brother. ~ Plautus,

235:For I know that many good things have happened to many, when least expected; and that many hopes have been disappointed. ~ Plautus,

236:Love has both its gall and honey in abundance: it has sweetness to the taste, but it presents bitterness also to satiety. ~ Plautus,

237:I had much rather be adorned by beauty of character than by jewels. Jewels are the gift of fortune, character comes from within. ~ Plautus,

238:If you do anything well, gratitude is lighter than a feather; if you give offense in anything, people's wrath is as heavy as lead. ~ Plautus,

239:Courage is what preserves our liberty, safety, life, and our homes and parents, our country and children. Courage comprises all things. ~ Plautus,

240:One eye-witness is of more weight than ten hearsays. Those who hear, speak of shat they have heard; whose who see, know beyond mistake. ~ Plautus,

241:Est profecto deus, qui, quæ nos gerimus, auditque et videt. ~ There is indeed a God that hears and sees whate'er we do. ~ Plautus, Captivi, II. 2. 63,

242:Women have many faults, but the worst of them all is that they are too pleased with themselves and take too little pains to please the men. ~ Plautus,

243:Slander-mongers and those who listen to slander, if I had my way, would all be strung up, the talkers by the tongue, the listeners by the ears. ~ Plautus,

244:To ask that which is unjust at the hands of the just, is an injustice in itself; to expect that which is just from the unjust, is simple folly. ~ Plautus,

245:It is good to love in a moderate degree; to distraction, it is not good; but to love to entire distraction, is the thing that my master's doing. ~ Plautus,

246:Tattletales, and those who listen to their slander, by my good will, should all be hanged. The former by their tongues, the latter by their ears. ~ Plautus,

247:Your tittle-tattlers, and those who listen to slander, by my good will should all be hanged - the former by their tongues, the latter by the ears. ~ Plautus,

248:I know that we women are all justly accounted praters; they say in the present day that there never was in any age such a wonder to be found as a dumb woman. ~ Plautus,

249:For enemies carry about slander not in the form in which it took its rise . The scandal of men is everlasting; even then does it survive when you would suppose it to be dead. ~ Plautus,

250:A good disposition I far prefer to gold; for gold is the gift of fortune; goodness of disposition is the gift of nature. I prefer much rather to be called good than fortunate. ~ Plautus,

251:The gods confound the man who first found out How to distinguish hours! Confound him, too, Who in this place set up a sun-dial, To cut and hack my days so wretchedly Into small portions. ~ Plautus,

252:Property is unstable, and youth perishes in a moment. Life itself is held in the grinning fangs of Death, Yet men delay to obtain release from the world. Alas, the conduct of mankind is surprising. ~ Plautus,

253:Let a man who wants to find abundance of employment procure a woman and a ship: for no two things do produce more trouble if you begin to equip them; neither are these two things ever equipped enough. ~ Plautus,

254:What you lend is lost; when you ask for it back, you may find a friend made an enemy by your kindness. If you begin to press him further, you have the choice of two things - either to lose your loan or lose your friend. ~ Plautus,

255:Besides that, when elsewhere the harvest of wheat is most abundant, there it comes up less by one-fourth than what you have sowed. There, methinks, it were a proper place for men to sow their wild oats, where they would not spring up. ~ Plautus,

256:No one can be so welcome a guest that he will not become an annoyance when he has stayed three continuous days in a friend's house. [Lat., Hospes nullus tam in amici hospitium diverti potest, Quin ubi triduum continuum fuerit jam odiosus siet. ~ Plautus,

257:Virtue is the highest reward. Virtue truly goes before all things. Liberty, safety, life, property, parents, country, and children are protected and preserved. Virtue has all things in herself; he who has virtue has all things that are good attending him. ~ Plautus,

258:Who wishes to give himself an abundance of business let him equip these two things, a ship and a woman. For no two things involve more business, if you have begun to fit them out. Nor are these two things ever sufficiently adorned, nor is any excess of adornment enough for them. ~ Plautus,

259:The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men.

Polonius ~ William Shakespeare,

260:His speech is low and rapid, his manner assured; he is at home in courtroom or waterfront, bishop’s palace or inn yard. He can draft a contract, train a falcon, draw a map, stop a street fight, furnish a house and fix a jury. He will quote you a nice point in the old authors, from Plato to Plautus and back again. He knows new poetry, and can say it in Italian. He works all hours, first up and last to bed. He makes money and he spends it. He will take a bet on anything. ~ Hilary Mantel,

261:When a comedy of Plautus is being played, and the household slaves are cracking trivial jokes together, ou propose to come on stage in the garb of a philosopher, and repeat Seneca's speech to Nero from the Octavia. Wouldn't it be better to take a silent role than to say something wholly inappropriate, and thus turn the play into a tragi-comedy? You pervert a play and ruin it when you add irrelevant speeches, even if they are better than the play itself. So go through with the drama in hand as best you can, and don't spoil it all just because you happen to think of another that would be better. ~ Thomas More,

262:Homo proponit et Deus disponit. ~ And governeth alle goode virtues. ~ William Langland, Vision of Piers Ploughman (Ed. 1824), Volume II, p. 427, line 13,984. John Gerson is credited with same. Saying quoted in Chronicles of Battel Abbey (1066 to 1177). Translation by Lower, 1851, p. 27. Homer, Iliad, XVII. 515. Pindar, Olymp, XIII. 149. Demosthenes, De Corona., 209. Plautus, Bacchid. I, 2, 36. Ammianus Marcellinus, Hist, XXV. 3. Francois Fenelon, Sermon on the Epiphany, 1685. Montaigne, Essay, Book II, Chapter XXXVII. Seneca the Younger, Epistles, 107. Cleanthus, Fragment. Cervantes, Don Quixote, I. 22. Dante, Paradise, VIII, line 134. Friedrich Schiller, Wallenstein's Death, I, 7. 32. Ordericus Vitalis, Ecclesiastica Historia, Book III (1075),

263:with a sophistication that is startling at such an early stage in the history of Roman literature, Plautus exploits even further the hybrid character of his work, and of his world. One of his favourite gags, which he repeats in the prologue to a number of plays, is some version of ‘Demophilus wrote this, Plautus barbarised it’, referring to his Latin (‘barbaric’) translation of a comedy by the Greek playwright Demophilus. This apparently throwaway line was, in fact, a clever challenge to the audience. For those of Greek origin, it no doubt gave the opportunity for a quiet snigger at the expense of the new, barbaric rulers of the world. For the others, it demanded the conceptual leap of imagining what they might look like from the outside. To enjoy the laugh, they had to understand, even if only as a joke, that to Greek eyes, Romans might appear to be barbarians. ~ Mary Beard,

264:One of his favourite gags, which he repeats in the prologue to a number of plays, is some version of ‘Demophilus wrote this, Plautus barbarised it’, referring to his Latin (‘barbaric’) translation of a comedy by the Greek playwright Demophilus. This apparently throwaway line was, in fact, a clever challenge to the audience. For those of Greek origin, it no doubt gave the opportunity for a quiet snigger at the expense of the new, barbaric rulers of the world. For the others, it demanded the conceptual leap of imagining what they might look like from the outside. To enjoy the laugh, they had to understand, even if only as a joke, that to Greek eyes, Romans might appear to be barbarians. The widening horizons of empire, in other words, disturbed the simple hierarchy of ‘us over them’, the ‘civilised over the barbarous’, which had underpinned classical Greek culture. ~ Mary Beard,

265:Paris has a child, and the forest has a bird; the bird is called the sparrow; the child is called the gamin. Couple these two ideas which contain, the one all the furnace, the other all the dawn; strike these two sparks together, Paris, childhood; there leaps out from them a little being. Homuncio, Plautus would say. This little being is joyous. He has not food every day, and he goes to the play every evening, if he sees good. He has no shirt on his body, no shoes on his feet, no roof over his head; he is like the flies of heaven, who have none of these things. He is from seven to thirteen years of age, he lives in bands, roams the streets, lodges in the open air, wears an old pair of trousers of his father's, which descend below his heels, an old hat of some other father, which descends below his ears, a single suspender of yellow listing; he runs, lies in wait, rummages about, wastes time, blackens pipes, swears like a convict, haunts the wine-shop, knows thieves, calls gay women thou, talks slang, sings obscene songs, and has no evil in his heart. This is because he has in his heart a pearl, innocence; and pearls are not to be dissolved in mud. So long as man is in his childhood, God wills that he shall be innocent. If one were to ask that enormous city: "What is this?" she would reply: "It is my little one. ~ Victor Hugo,

266: ~ William Butler Yeats, To A Wealthy Man Who Promised A Second Subscription To The Dublin Municipal Gallery If It Were Prove

You gave, but will not give again
Until enough of paudeen's pence
By Biddy's halfpennies have lain
To be 'some sort of evidence',
Before you'll put your guineas down,
That things it were a pride to give
Are what the blind and ignorant town
Imagines best to make it thrive.
What cared Duke Ercole, that bid
His mummers to the market-place,
What th' onion-sellers thought or did
So that his plautus set the pace
For the Italian comedies?
And Guidobaldo, when he made
That grammar school of courtesies
Where wit and beauty learned their trade
Upon Urbino's windy hill,
Had sent no runners to and fro
That he might learn the shepherds' will
And when they drove out Cosimo,
Indifferent how the rancour ran,
He gave the hours they had set free
To Michelozzo's latest plan
For the San Marco Library,
Whence turbulent Italy should draw
Delight in Art whoSe end is peace,
In logic and in natural law
By sucking at the dugs of Greece.
Your open hand but shows our loss,
For he knew better how to live.
Let paudeens play at pitch and toss,
Look up in the sun's eye and give
What the exultant heart calls good
That some new day may breed the best
Because you gave, not what they would,
But the right twigs for an eagle's nest!

,

267:To The Memory Of My Beloved Author, Mr. William
Shakespeare
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name,
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;
While I confess thy writings to be such
As neither man nor muse can praise too much;
'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;
For seeliest ignorance on these may light,
Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;
Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance
The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;
Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,
And think to ruin, where it seem'd to raise.
These are, as some infamous bawd or whore
Should praise a matron; what could hurt her more?
But thou art proof against them, and indeed,
Above th' ill fortune of them, or the need.
I therefore will begin. Soul of the age!
The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage!
My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
A little further, to make thee a room:
Thou art a monument without a tomb,
And art alive still while thy book doth live
And we have wits to read and praise to give.
That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses,
I mean with great, but disproportion'd Muses,
For if I thought my judgment were of years,
I should commit thee surely with thy peers,
And tell how far thou didst our Lyly outshine,
Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line.
And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,
From thence to honour thee, I would not seek
For names; but call forth thund'ring {AE}schylus,
Euripides and Sophocles to us;
Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead,
To life again, to hear thy buskin tread,
And shake a stage; or, when thy socks were on,
142
Leave thee alone for the comparison
Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Rome
Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.
Tri{'u}mph, my Britain, thou hast one to show
To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.
He was not of an age but for all time!
And all the Muses still were in their prime,
When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm
Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm!
Nature herself was proud of his designs
And joy'd to wear the dressing of his lines,
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.
The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,
Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please,
But antiquated and deserted lie,
As they were not of Nature's family.
Yet must I not give Nature all: thy art,
My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part.
For though the poet's matter nature be,
His art doth give the fashion; and, that he
Who casts to write a living line, must sweat,
(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
Upon the Muses' anvil; turn the same
(And himself with it) that he thinks to frame,
Or, for the laurel, he may gain a scorn;
For a good poet's made, as well as born;
And such wert thou. Look how the father's face
Lives in his issue, even so the race
Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines
In his well-turned, and true-filed lines;
In each of which he seems to shake a lance,
As brandish'd at the eyes of ignorance.
Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were
To see thee in our waters yet appear,
And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,
That so did take Eliza and our James!
But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere
Advanc'd, and made a constellation there!
Shine forth, thou star of poets, and with rage
Or influence, chide or cheer the drooping stage;
Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourn'd like night,
143
And despairs day, but for thy volume's light.
~ Ben Jonson,

268:The Dunciad: Book I.
The Mighty Mother, and her son who brings
The Smithfield muses to the ear of kings,
I sing. Say you, her instruments the great!
Called to this work by Dulness, Jove, and Fate;
You by whose care, in vain decried and cursed,
Still Dunce the second reigns like Dunce the first;
Say how the Goddess bade Britannia sleep,
And poured her spirit o’er the land and deep.
In eldest time, e’er mortals writ or read,
E’er Pallas issued from the Thunderer’s head,
Dulness o’er all possessed her ancient right,
Daughter of Chaos and eternal Night:
Fate in their dotage this fair idiot gave,
Gross as her sire, and as her mother grave,
Laborious, heavy, busy, bold, and blind,
She ruled, in native anarchy, the mind.
Still her old empire to restore she tries,
For, born a goddess, Dulness never dies.
O thou! whatever title please thine ear,
Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver!
Whether thou choose Cervantes’ serious air,
Or laugh and shake in Rabelais’ easy chair,
Or praise the court, or magnify mankind,
Or thy grieved country’s copper chains unbind;
From thy Boeotia though her power retires,
Mourn not, my SWIFT, at ought our realm acquires,
Here pleased behold her mighty wings out-spread
To hatch a new Saturnian age of lead.
Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne,
And laughs to think Monroe would take her down,
Where o’er the gates, by his famed by father’s hand
Great Cibber’s brazen, brainless brothers stand;
One cell there is, concealed from vulgar eye,
The cave of poverty and poetry.
Keen, hollow winds howl through the bleak recess,
Emblem of music caused by emptiness.
Hence bards, like Proteus long in vain tied down,
Escape in monsters, and amaze the town.
Hence miscellanies spring, the weekly boast
170
Of Curll’s chaste press, and Lintot’s rubric post :
Hence hymning Tyburn’s elegiac lines,
Hence Journals, Medleys, Merc’ries, Magazines:
Sepulchral lies, our holy walls to grace,
And new Year odes, and all the Grub Street race.
In clouded majesty here Dulness shone;
Four guardian virtues, round, support her throne:
Fierce champion Fortitude, that knows no fears
Of hisses, blows, or want, or loss of ears:
Calm Temperance, whose blessings those partake
Who hunger, and who thirst for scribbling sake:
Prudence, whose glass presents th’ approaching goal.
Poetic justice, with her lifted scale,
Where, in nice balance, truth with gold she weighs,
And solid pudding against empty praise.
Here she beholds the chaos dark and deep,
Where nameless somethings in their causes sleep,
Till genial Jacob, or a warm third day,
Call forth each mass, a poem, or a play:
How hints, like spawn, scarce quick in embryo lie,
How new-born nonsense first is taught to cry.
Maggots half-formed in rhyme exactly meet,
And learn to crawl upon poetic feet.
Here one poor word an hundred clenches makes,
And ductile dullness new meanders takes;
There motley images her fancy strike,
Figures ill paired, and similes unlike.
She sees a mob of metaphors advance,
Pleased with the madness of the mazy dance:
How tragedy and comedy embrace;
How farce and epic get a jumbled race;
How time himself stands still at her command,
Realms shift their place, and ocean turns to land.
Here gay description Egypt glads with showers,
Or gives to Zembla fruits, to Barca flowers;
Glittering with ice here hoary hills are seen,
There painted valleys of eternal green,
In cold December fragrant chaplets blow,
And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.
All these, and more, the cloud-compelling Queen
Beholds through fogs, that magnify the scene.
She, tinselled o’er in robes of varying hues,
171
With self-applause her wild creation views;
Sees momentary monsters rise and fall,
And with her own fools-colours gilds them all.
’Twas on the day, when
rich and grave,
Like Cimon, triumphed both on land and wave:
(Pomps without guilt, of bloodless swords and maces,
Glad chains, warm furs, broad banners, and broad faces)
Now night descending, the proud scene was o’er,
But lived, in Settle’s numbers, one day more.
Now mayors and shrieves all hushed and satiate lay,
Yet eat, in dreams, the custard of the day;
While pensive poets painful vigils keep,
Sleepless themselves, to give their readers sleep.
Much to the mindful Queen the feast recalls
What city swans once sung within the walls;
Much she revolves their arts, their ancient praise,
And sure succession down from Heywood’s days.
She saw, with joy, the line immortal run,
Each sire impressed and glaring in his son:
So watchful Bruin forms, with plastic care,
Each growing lump, and brings it to a bear.
She saw old Prynne in restless Daniel shine,
And Eusden eke out Blackmore’s endless line;
She saw slow Philips creep like Tate’s poor page,
And all the mighty mad in Dennis rage.
In each she marks her image full expressed,
But chief in BAY’S monster-breeding breast;
Bays, formed by nature stage and town to bless,
And act, and be, a coxcomb with success.
Dulness with transport eyes the lively dunce,
Remembering she herself was pertness once.
Now (shame to fortune!) an ill run at play
Blanked his bold visage, and a thin third day:
Swearing and supperless the hero sate,
Blasphemed his gods, the dice, and damned his fate.
Then gnawed his pen, then dashed it on the ground,
Sinking from thought to thought, a vast profound!
Plunged for his sense, but found no bottom there,
Yet wrote and floundered on, in mere despair.
Round him much embryo, much abortion lay,
172
Much future ode, and abdicated play;
Nonsense precipitate, like running lead,
That slipped through cracks and zigzags of the head;
All that on folly frenzy could beget,
Fruits of dull heat, and sooterkins of wit.
Next, o’er his books his eyes began to roll,
In pleasing memory of all he stole,
How here he sipped, how there he plundered snug
And sucked all o’er, like an industrious bug.
Here lay poor Fletcher’s half-eat scenes, and here
The frippery of crucified Molière;
There hapless Shakespeare, yet of Tibbald sore,
Wished he had blotted for himself before.
The rest on outside merit but presume,
Or serve (like other fools) to fill a room;
Such with their shelves as due proportion hold,
Or their fond parents dressed in red and gold;
Or where the pictures for the page atone,
And Quarles is saved by beauties not his own.
Here swells the shelf with Ogibly the great;
There, stamped with arms, Newcastle shines complete:
Here all his suffering brotherhood retire,
And ’scape the martyrdom of jakes and fire:
A Gothic library! Of Greece and Rome
Well purged, and worthy Settle, Banks, and Broome.
But, high above, more solid learning shone,
The classics of an age that heard of none;
There Caxton slept, with Wynkyn at his side,
One clasped in wood, and one in strong cow-hide;
There, saved by spice, like mummies, many a year,
Dry bodies of divinity appear:
De Lyra there a dreadful front extends,
And here the groaning shelves Philemon bends.
Of these twelve volumes, twelve of amplest size,
Redeemed from tapers and defrauded pies,
Inspired he seizes: these an altar raise:
An hetatomb of pure, unsullied lays
That altar crowns: a folio commonplace
Founds the whole pile, of all his works the base:
Quartos, octavos, shape the lessening pyre;
A twisted birthday ode completes the spire.
Then he: ‘Great tamer of all human art!
173
First in my care, and ever at my heart;
Dulness! Whose good old cause I yet defend,
With whom my muse began, with whom shall end;
E’er since Sir Fopling’s periwig was praise
To the last honours of the butt and bays:
O thou! of business the directing soul!
To this our head like bias to the bowl,
Which, as more ponderous, made its aim more true,
Obliquely waddling to the mark in view:
O! ever gracias to perplexed mankind,
Still spread a healing mist before the mind;
And lest we err by wit’s wild dancing light,
Secure us kindly in our native night.
Or, if to wit a coxcomb make pretence,
Guard the sure barrier between that and sense;
Or quite unravel all the reasoning thread,
And hang some curious cobweb in its stead!
As, forced from wind-guns, lead itself can fly,
And ponderous slugs cut swiftly through the sky;
As clocks to weight their nimble motion owe,
The wheels above urged by the load below:
Me emptiness, and Dulness could inspire,
And were my elasticity, and fire.
Some daemon stole my pen(forgive th’offence)
And once betrayed me into common sense:
Else all my prose and verse were much the same;
This, prose on stilts, that, poetry fallen lame.
Did on the stage my fops appear confined?
My life gave ampler lessons to mankind.
Did the dead letter unsuccessful prove?
The brisk example never failed to move.
Yet sure had heaven decreed to save the state,
Heaven had decreed these works a longer date.
Could Troy be saved by any single hand,
This grey-goose weapon must have made her stand.
What can I now? my Fletcher cast aside,
Take up the Bible, once my better guide?
Or tread the path by venturous heroes trod,
This box my thunder, this right hand my god?
Or chaired at White’s amidst the doctors sit,
Teach oaths to gamesters, and to nobles wit?
Or bidst thou rather party to embrace?
174
(A friend to party thou, and all her race;
’Tis the same rope at different ends they twist;
To Dulness Ridpath is as dear as Mist.)
Shall I, like Curtius, desperate in my zeal,
O’er head and ears plunge for the commonweal?
Or rob Rome’s ancient geese of all their glories,
And cackling save the monarchy of Tories?
Hold—to the minister I more incline;
To serve his cause, O Queen! is serving thine.
And see! Thy very gazetteers give o’er,
Ev’n Ralph repents, and Henley writes no more.
What then remains? Ourself. Still, still remain
Cibberian forehead, and Cibberian brain.
This brazen brightness, to the ‘squire so dear;
This polished hardness, that reflects the peer;
This arch absurd, that sit and fool delights;
This mess, tossed up of Hockley Hole and White’s;
Where dukes and butchers join to wreathe my crown,
At once the bear and fiddle of the town.
O born in sin, and forth in folly brought!
Works damned, or to be damned! (your father’s fault)
Go, purified by flames ascend the sky,
My better and more Christian progeny!
Unstained, untouched, and yet in maiden sheets;
While all your smutty sisters walk the streets.
Ye shall not beg, like gratis-given Bland,
Sent with a pass, and vagrant through the land;
Not sail, with Ward, to ape-and-monkey climes,
Where vile mundungus trucks for viler rhymes;
Not sulphur-tipped, emblaze an alehouse fire;
Not wrap up oranges, to pelt your sire!
O! pass more innocent, in infant state,
To the mild limbo of our father Tate:
Or peaceably forgot, at once be blessed
In Shadwell’s bosom with eternal rest!
Soon to that mass of nonsense to return,
Where things destroyed are swept to things unborn.’
With that, a tear (portentous sign of grace!)
Stole from the master of the sevenfold face:
And thrice he lifted high the birthday brand,
And thrice he dropped it from his quivering hand;
Then lights the structure, with averted eyes:
175
The rolling smokes involve the sacrifice.
The opening clouds disclose each work by turns,
Now flames the Cid, and now Perolla burns;
Great Ceasar roars, and hisses in the fires;
King John in silence modestly expires:
No merit now the dear Nonjuror claims,
Molière’s old stubble in a moment flames.
Tears gushed again, as from pale Priam’s eyes
When the last blaze sent Ilion to the skies.
Roused by the light, old Dulness heaved the head;
Then snatched a sheet of Thulè from her bed,
Sudden she flies, and whelms it o’er the pyre;
Down sink the flames, and with a hiss expire.
Her ample presence fills up all the place;
A veil of fogs dilates her awful face;
Great in her charms! as when on shrieves and mayors
She looks, and breathes herself into their airs.
She bids him wait her to her sacred dome:
Well pleased he entered, and confessed his home.
So spirits ending their terrestrial race,
Ascend, and recognize their native place.
This the Great Mother dearer held than all
The clubs of quidnuncs, or her own Guildhall:
Here stood her opium, here she nursed her owls,
And here she planned th’ imperial seat of Fools.
Here to her chosen all her works she shows;
Prose swelled to verse, verse loitering into prose:
How random thoughts now meaning chance to find,
Now leave all memory of sense behind:
How prologues into prefaces decay,
And these to notes are frittered quite away:
How index-learning turns no student pale,
Yet holds the eel of science by the tail:
How, with less reading than makes felons ’scape,
Less human genius than God gives an ape,
Small thanks to France, and none to Rome or Greece,
A past, vamped, future, old, revived, new piece,
’Twixt Plautus, Fletcher, Shakespeare, and Corneille,
Can make a Cibber, Tibbald, or Ozell.
The Goddess then, o’er his anointed head,
With mystic words, the sacred opium shed.
And lo! her bird, (a monster of a fowl,
176
Something betwixt a Heidegger and owl,)
Perched on his crown: ‘ All hail! and hail again,
My son! The promised land expects thy reign.
Know, Eusden thirsts no more for sack or praise;
He sleeps among the dull of ancient days;
Safe, where no critics damn, no duns molest,
Where wretched Withers, Ward, and Gildon rest,
And high-born Howard, more majestic sire,
With fool of quality completes the quire.
Thou Cibber! thou, his laurel shalt support,
Folly, my son, has still a friend at court.
Lift up your gates, ye princes, see him come!
Sound, sound ye viols, be the catcall dumb!
Bring, bring the madding bay, the drunken vine;
The creeping, dirty, courtly ivy join.
And thou! his aide de camp, lead on my sons,
Light-armed with points, antitheses, and puns.
Let bawdry, Billingsgate, my daughters dear,
Support his front, and oaths bring up the rear:
And under his, and under Archer’s wing,
Gaming and Grub Street skulk behind the king.
O! when shall rise a monarch all our own,
And I, a nursing-mother, rock the throne,
’Twixt prince and people close the curtain draw,
Shade him from light, and cover him from law;
Fatten the courtier, starve the learned band,
And suckle armies, and dry-nurse the land:
Till senates nod to lullabies divine,
And all be asleep, as at an ode of thine.’
She ceased. Then swells the Chapel Royal throat:
‘God save King Cibber!’ mounts in every note.
Familiar White’s, ‘God save king Colley!’ cries;
‘God save King Colley!’ Drury Lane replies:
To Needham’s quick the voice triumphal rode,
But pious Needham dropped the name of God;
Back to the Devil the last echoes roll,
And ‘Coll!’ each butcher roars at Hockley Hole.
So when Jove’s block descended from on high
(As sings thy great forefather Ogilby)
Loud thunder to its bottom shook the bog,
And the hoarse nation croaked, ‘God save King Log!
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~ Alexander Pope,

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