Various

“ I'm sure you'll like it. 'The moon is high in the mid heavens, and not a single envious cloud frowns darkly upon her fair loveliness; there is a flood of silvery light; and fleecy vapours, with their hoary crests, like snow-wreaths from the mountain top, float on its surface to do honour to the queen of night. The winds are sporting with the waters; the amorous waves are heaving up their swelling bosoms to be kissed by the warm breeze that comes laden with perfumes from the sunny clime of Italy. ”

“ Then fill up a bumper, dear woman's our toast, Our comfort in sorrows—in pleasure our boast.
Drink, drink to dear woman, and gaze on her smile; Love hides in those dimples his innocent guile: 'Tis a signal for joy—'tis a balm for all woe;— Here's woman, dear woman, man's heaven below.
Chorus. Then fill up a bumper, dear woman's our toast, Our comfort in sorrow—in pleasure our boast.
Drink, drink to dear woman, and look on her tear:— Is it pain?—is it grief?—is it hope?—is it fear? Oh! kiss it away, and believe whilst you press, Here's woman, dear woman, man's friend in distress. ”

“ The hour is past:—with its earliest chime The cord is sever'd, the lifeless clay By "dungeon villains" is borne away: Nine!—'twas the last concluding stroke! And then—my Lord Tomnoddy awoke! And Tregooze and Sir Carnaby Jenks arose, And Captain M'Fuze, with the black on his nose; And they stared at each other, as much as to say "Hollo! Hollo! Here's a Rum Go! Why, Captain!—my Lord!—Here's the Devil to pay! The fellow's been cut down and taken away! What's to be done? We've miss'd all the fun! Why, they'll laugh at, and quiz us all over the town, We are all of us done so uncommonly brown!" ”

“ Fancy, Tom, that your skull may come under the chisel, And turn out a filter for water to drizzle! Or imagine the rubicund nose of our uncle, In some fair lady's brooch, blazing forth a carbuncle! Though learning is grand, and one labours to win it, There perhaps lurks a something distressing, Tom, in it. Thus, whate'er our good character while our life lasted, When turned into rocks, may we not, Tom, be blasted? ”

“ Is the soldier melancholy in the storm and whirlwind of war? Is the gallant confronting of the cannon a matter to be complained of? The dolorous flight, the trampled battalion, the broken squadron, the lost battle, the lingering wound, the ill-furnished hospital, the unfed blockade, hunger and thirst, and pain, and fatigue, and mutilation, and cold, and rout, and scorn, and slight,—services neglected, unworthy claims preferred, life wasted, or honour tarnished,—are all passed by! ”

“ But she held the purse fast, and a glance she cast To see that all was right.
'Twas the fiend's full pay for her goodman grey, And the gold was good and true; Which made her declare, that "his dealings were fair, To give the devil his due."
She wore the black pall for Farmer Wall, From her fond embraces riven: But she won the vows of a younger spouse With the gold which the fiend had given.
Now, farmers, beware what oaths you swear When you cannot sell your corn; Lest, to bid and buy, a stranger be nigh, With hidden tail and horn. ”

“ The soldier appears in all the pride and the swelling hopes of his spirit-stirring trade,
"Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth." The fair round belly of the justice lined with good capon lets us know how he has passed his life. He is full of ease, magisterial authority, and squirely dignity. The lean and slippered pantaloon, and the dotard sunk into second childishness, have suffered only the common lot of humanity, without any of the calamities that embitter the unavoidable malady of old age. ”

“ Niall!—Niall himself! and no resistance did he offer to him that forced me onward,—none, though I called to him by his name, shrieking it louder than I am speaking now, 'Niall!—Niall!' He spoke not,—he moved not; and I was within a foot of the very couch, when I awoke, my face bathed in the dew of terror. 'Niall!—Niall!' did I cry, did I shriek; and Niall was there, and I shrieked in vain—'Niall!—Niall!'——"
"Here!" cried Niall himself, springing from a copse, out of which led a path that made a short cut across an angle of the road, and throwing himself breathless at the feet of Glorvina. ”

“ Let not the wise in the lore of matrimony laugh at his ignorance,—Theophilus was a bachelor!
He was touched by this unexampled proof of, to him, affection; and, drawing himself into closer proximity with Mrs. Jennings than he had before ventured, began—
"My dear ma'am, don't distress yourself. Men are like ears of corn."
"I know it," cried Mrs. Jennings, twisting one round her finger as she spoke.
"Like grass, ma'am; and Time's scythe mows down husbands and fathers!"
"Oh! oh!" sobbed the widow.
"Is there anything I can do to comfort you, ma'am?" asked Theophilus inquiringly. ”

“ In the peculiar circle in which they live, the prince is the butt of the knight. He knows it not,—he would repel it with scorn if it were asserted; but it is nevertheless the fact that he is subdued. He calls the course of life which he leads, the unyoked humour of his idleness; but he mistakes. In all the paths where his journey lies with Falstaff, it is the hard-yoked servitude of his obedience. ”

“ Is it possible a lady Can be wandering so late? Let me see her through the lattice, And her story let me hear; —Oh! your most obedient, madam; May I ask what brings you here?
Duchess. You will very much applaud me, When you hear what I have done; I've been naughty,—I'm a penitent, and want to be a nun. I've been treated most unfairly, Though 'tis said I am most fair; I am rich, ma'am, and a duchess, And my name's La Vallière.
Abbess. Get along, you naughty woman, You'll contaminate us all; When you touch'd the gate, I wonder That the convent did not fall! Stop! ”

“ The gallant ship lies almost slumbering on the fair bosom of the waters, and the little progress she does make is as noiseless as a delightful dream; like the lone point in the centre of a circle, she is surrounded by the blue waves, and nothing intervenes to break the connected curve of the horizon. Upon the quarter-deck, his right hand thrust into his waistcoat, and his feet firmly planted on the white plank, as if desirous of making the bark feel his own peculiar weight, stands her brave commander: near him Mr. Squeez'em and two young imps of aides-de-camp take up their allotted stations ”

“ Richie was a prudent man, frugal both of his purse and person, and stood at the door of Sir Toby, elevated with the integrity of his purpose, and the consciousness of four thousand good pounds his own making. A few moments, and he was ushered into the prettiest of all parlours, where, reposing on the most seductive of ottomans, reclined the pale and disconsolate mistress of the mansion. By the softened lustre of a solitary lamp, the prudent eye of Richie took a hasty glance around him: everything bespoke comfort and elegance. ”

“ Falstaff is a character loaded with faults, and with those faults which naturally produce contempt. He is a thief and a glutton, a coward and a boaster, always ready to cheat the weak, and prey upon the poor; to terrify the timorous, and insult the defenceless. At once obsequious and malignant, he satirizes in their absence those whom he lives by flattering. He is familiar with the prince only as an agent of vice, but of this familiarity he is so proud, as not only to be supercilious and haughty with common men, but to think his interest of importance to the Duke of Lancaster. ”

“ And mankind are the boots and the shoes on the wall; Stitch, stitch, hammer, hammer, hammer! The great and the rich Never want a new stitch; They fit like a glove before and behind, Are polished and neat, and always well lined, And thus wear till they come to life's ending: But the poor and the mean Are not fit to be seen,— They are things that none would borrow or steal, Are out at the toes, and down at the heel, And are always beyond any mending. ”

“ She surely is a Grace: Oh, would Queen Cypris lend her—
"Or give her me! I've tired, not filled mine eye With gazing. Let me press her dainty side, And die! A god's life on Olympus high Would I refuse, had I that girl for bride: But, since to me thy priestess is denied, Queen! let my home with such a one be gladdened." Thus spake one bachelor; another tried To smile and mock, as tho' he were not saddened, Hiding the secret wound, which all the time him maddened.
But thou, Leander, wouldst not hide the wound, And vex thy secret soul ”

“ How fares the boy when, like his primal sire, "he stands erect a man?" and in what spirit does he study the philosophy of "greatness?" He may bethink him of the false fruiterer's melon, how it lay on the stall, its sunny side laughing and coquetting with the eye of the wayfarer,—its rottenness and unsavoury portion in retirement and unseen below. He discovers that the "great" are gigantic in one line, but that "the line upon line" is not their predicate; in some matters they may perchance be far smaller than their neighbours. ”

“ What then remains for wit or warrior when all is lost—when the last stake is gone—when no chance of another can be dreamt of—when the gleaming visions that danced before their eyes are found to be nothing but mist and mirage? What remains for them but to die?—And so they do.
With such feelings, what can Falstaff, after having gone through a life of adventure, care about the repute of courage or cowardice? To divert the prince, he engages in a wild enterprise,—nothing more than what would be called a "lark" now. ”

“ Courageously has he put an end to one of the three hundred and sixty-five tormentors which he has yearly to endure; and to-morrow—why—as was to-day, so to-morrow shall be. At all events I shall not leave the sweet of the night unpicked, to think anything more about it. Bring me a cup of sack! Let us be merry! Does he ever think of what were his hopes and prospects at the time, when was
"Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, And page to Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk?" Perhaps!—— but he chases away the intrusive reflection by another cup of sack and a fresh sally of humour. ”

“ Take that old gentleman who has just emerged from the Café de l'Europe in the Haymarket, where he has been dining at the expense of the young man upon town with whom he shakes hands as they part at the door of the tavern. The affected warmth of that shake of the hand, the courteous nod, the obvious recollection of the dinner, the savoury flavour of which still hangs upon his lips, are all characteristics of his great prototype. He hobbles away humming an opera tune, and twirling his cane to and fro, with affected carelessness. ”

“ The skipper was no doubt a black-hearted nigger."
"Nigger yousef, Massa Jemmy Ducks," exclaimed Mungo Pearl; "d—you black heart for twist 'em poultry neck."
"Silence there in amidships," said Mr. Parallel: "you make so much noise that I can't keep my glass steady. Spin your yarns, Mr. Pearl, with your mouth shut, like an oyster;" and then, addressing the captain, "We rise her fast, my lord, and the breeze freshens: the ould beauty knows she's got some work cut out for her; she begins to smell garlic, and walks along like an ostrich on the stretch—legs and wings, and all in full play." ”

“ MEMOIRS OF SHERIDAN. Though it may appear paradoxical to say so, yet there is no more melancholy reading than the biography of a celebrated wit. In nine out of ten cases, what is such a memoir other than a record of acute suffering, the almost inseparable attendant of that thoughtless and mercurial temperament which cannot, or will not, conform to the staid usages society; which makes ten enemies where it makes one friend; is engaged in a constant warfare with common sense, and lives for the day, letting the morrow shift for itself? ”

“ Thither the virgin-hunters thick repair, As is their wont; a rash and reckless race, Whose prayers are only offered to the fair. There moved our Hero with majestic pace; A star-like glory scattered from her face Sparkles of light, as when the moon discloses Among the stars her cheek's clear-shining grace; Like a twin-rose, one white, one red, reposes On either snow-white cheek the blushing bloom of roses. ”

“ No mob of apathetical time-killers is here; but true and constant lovers of the divine art, joining "with heart and voice" in strains to them as fresh and beautiful as they were two hundred years ago!
Oh! how we might gossip about and speculate upon the old fellows who treasured up for us this legacy of fine things. Talk of love for their art!—!—think of Luca Marenjio, who wrote a thousand madrigals; and Dr. Tye, who set to music the whole of "The Acts of the Apostles!"
The human voice is the noblest of all instruments. In the madrigal it finds an exercise worthy of its powers. ”

“ The features were stern and inflexible,—cast-iron, moulded by philosophy; a Cynic smile portrayed contempt of the world, or rather of society, such as it then was, is, and most probably ever will be. Yet his rubicond cheeks and vinous nose proclaimed that he was fond of the good things of this perishable globe; and few men, when he had acquired wealth, enjoyed life and its luxuries with greater zest than he did. ”

“ He images the vague outline of a human mammoth, and sits down with scanty hope of modelling himself accordingly. In the pride and pomp of baby ambition he yearns to rival in stature and girth the sons of Amalek. He is small, and perfectly conscious that he is so; but frets to exchange his little pulpy fingers for a sinewy fist that can shake a weaver's beam: he meditates upon great men as pumpkins, compared with which he is but a gooseberry. ”

“ All the characters in Jaques's sketch are well taken care of. The infant is nursed; the boy educated; the youth tormented with no greater cares than the necessity of hunting after rhymes to please the ear of a lady, whose love sits so lightly upon him as to set him upon nothing more serious than such a self-amusing task; the man in prime of life is engaged in gallant deeds, brave in action, anxious for character, and ambitious of fame; the man in declining years has won the due honours of his rank, he enjoys the luxuries of the table and dispenses the terrors of the bench ”

“ It is not a difficult thing to depict a man corroded by care within, yet appearing gay and at ease without, if you every moment pull the machinery to pieces, as children do their toys, to show what is inside. But the true art is to let the attendant circumstances bespeak the character, without being obliged to label him: "Here you may see the tyrant;" or, "Here is the man heavy of heart, light of manner." Your ever-melancholy and ostentatiously broken-hearted heroes are felt to be bores, endurable only on account of the occasional beauty of the poetry in which they figure. ”

“ It was a beautiful sight to see a hundred charming young women, of the first families of Europe,—for they were there, of all nations, dressed with the simple elegance that is so becoming to the young of the sex, and which is never departed from here until after marriage,—moving in perfect time to delightful music, as if animated by a common soul. ”

“ There is a devil Haunts thee i' the likeness of a fat old man; A ton of man is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, That bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swoln parcel of Dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed Cloakbag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox With the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, That grey iniquity, that father ruffian, That vanity in years? ”

“ Ain't you a-trembling while I speak, sir?" said Mr. Bumble.
"No!" replied Oliver, boldly.
An answer so different from the one he had expected to elicit, and was in the habit of receiving, staggered Mr. Bumble not a little. He stepped back from the keyhole, drew himself up to his full height, and looked from one to another of the three bystanders in mute astonishment.
"Oh, you know, Mr. Bumble, he must be mad," said Mrs. Sowerberry. "No boy in half his senses could venture to speak so to you."
"It's not madness, ma'am," replied Mr. Bumble, after a few moments of deep meditation; "it's meat." ”