W. Gurney (William Gurney) Benham.

Cassell's book of quotations, proverbs and household words .. online

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lies. /. 193.

Worth makes tiie man, and want of it, the

The rest is all but leather or prunella,*


But by your father's worth if yours you

Count me those only who were good and

Go ! if your andent, but ignoble blood
Has crept through scoundrels ever since the

Go ! and pretend your family is young ;
Nor own your fathers have been wrong so

What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards?
Alas ! not all the blood of all the Howards.
Look next on greatness ; say where great-

nen h'es ?
** Where, but among the heroes and the

Heroes are much the same, the points

From Macedonia's madTnan to the Swede.


• ** OatdHnm est qnod homines fttdt, eetan
fofiqallis omnlfc"— »*»<'*"^ Aebhib, o. 7ft.

A wifs a feather, and a chief a rod ;

An honest man's the noblest work of God.

All fame is foreign, but of true desert ;

Plays round the nead, but comes not to the

One self-approving hour whole years out-

Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas ;

And more true joy Marcellus exiled feels,

Than Csosar with a senate at his heels.


Painful pre-eminence ! yourself to view
Above life's weakness, and its comforts too.


If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shined,
The wisest, *bri^htest, meanest of mankind *
Or, ravished with the whistling of a name,
See Cromwell, damned to everlasting fame !


Know then this truth (enough for man to

" Virtue alone is happiness below," /. S09.

Slave to no sect, who takes no private road.
But looks through nature up to nature's
God.t I- S31.

The centre moved, a circle straight succeeds.
Another still, and still another spreads.


Formed by thy converse, happily to steer
From grave to gay, from lively to severe.


Oh! while along the stream of time thy

Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame,
Say, shall my uttle iMurk attendant sail.
Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale ?

/. 383.
Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and

friend. /. 390.

For wit's false mirror held up nature's

Showed erring pride, whatever is, is right ;
That reason, passion, answer one great aim ;
That true seli-love and social are the same ;
That virtue only makes our bliss below ;
And aH our knowledge is, ourselves to know.

Father of all! in every age.

In every dime adored.
By saint, by savage, and by sage,

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord !
Thou Great First Cause, least understood :

Who all my sense confined
To know but this, that thou art good.

And that myself am blind.

The Universal Prayer.

t Stated by Warton to be verhsUm tnm
Bollngbroks's " Letters to Pope."


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And binding nature fast in fatd
Left free the human will.

The UnlTersal Prayer.

What conacience dictates to be done,

Or warns me not to do.
This, teach me more than hell to shun,

That, more than heaven pursue. lb.

And deal damnation round the land,
On each I judge thy foe. lb,

Sare me alike from foolish pride
Or impious discontent. lb.

Teach me to feel another's woe,

To hide the fault I see;
That mercy I to others show,

That mercy show to me. lb.

And yet the fate of all extremes is such,
Men may be read, as well as books, too

To obsOTTations which ourselves we make,
We grow more partial, for the observer's

Moral Essays. (In Hv$ EputUi to several
persons.) Epistle 1, To Lord Cobham,

Like following life through creatures you

You lose it in the moment you detect. 1 19,

All manners take a tincture from our own,
Or some discoloured through our passions

Or fancy's beam enlarges, multiplies,
Contracts, inverts, ana g^ves ten thousand

dyes. /. 55.

When half our knowledge we must snatch,
not take. /. JjO.

Itch of vulgar praise. k 60,

Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise.
His pride in reasoning, not in acting Ues.

/. 1T7.
'Tis from high life high characters are

A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn.

'Tis education forms the conmion mind,
Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined.

Manners with fortunes, humours turn with

Tenets with books, and principles with
times. /. 172.

Search, then, the ruling passion: there

The wild are constant, and the cunning

known ;
The fool consistent, and the false sincere ;
Priests, princes, women, no dissemblers

hiue. 1.274.

Wharton, the scorn and wonder of ouf

Whose ruling passion was the lust of praise.

7. 179,

** Odious ! in woollen ! 'twould a saint pro-

Were the last words that poor Nardssa
spoke. /. t46.

And you, brave Cobham! to the latest

Shall feel your ruling passion strong in

Such in those moments as in all the past,
"Oh, save my country, heaven! " shall be

your Ust I. t6t.

Nothing so true as what you once let fall,
'* Most women have no characters at all**
Epistlet. To a Lady, [Martha Blount.] L 1.

Whether the charmer sinner it or saint it ;
If folly grow romantic, I must paint it.


Choose a firm cloud, before it fall, and

in it;
Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this

minute. /. 19.

Fine by defect and delicately weak. /. 4^.
See sin in state, majestically drunk. /. 69.

With too much quickness ever to be

With too much t>iitiVing to have common

thought. /. 97.

Offend her, and she knows not to f oigive ;
Oblige her, and shell hate you whue yoa

But die, and shell adore you— then the

And temple rise— then fall again to dust.


To heirs unknown descends the unguarded

Or wanders, heaven- directed, to the poor.


Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour.
Content to dwell in decencies for ever.


Men. some to business, some to pleasure

But every woman is at heart a rake :
Men, some to quiet, some to public strife ;
But every hidy would be queen for life.

/. tl5.

Pleasures the sex, as children birds, pursue,
Still out of reach, yet never out of view.


See how the world its veterans rewards !
A youth of frolics, %n old age of cards.


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Oh! I>lfi8t with Uanpet, whote unclouded

Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day ;
She, who can love a sister's cbarm& or hear
Sighs for a daughter with unwounded ear ;
She who ne'er answers till a husband cools.
Or, if she rules him, never shows she rule§.
Channs by accepting, by submitting sways,
Yet has lier humour most when she obeys.
Moral Bsaaja. £pUtU f , /. t67.

And ndstrea of henelf, though china f aU.

Woman's at belt a contradiction still.


Who shall decide, when doctors disagree,
And soundest casuists, like you and me ?

EpUtleS. ToLordBathur$t, 1,1,

lake docton thus^ when much dispute has


e find our tenets just the same as last.


Blest paper-credit! last and best supply !
That lends corruption lighter wings to fly !

/. 59.

But thousands die, without or this or that,
Die, and endow a college, or a cat. /. 95,

The ruling passion, be it what it will.
The ruling passion conquers reason still.

Extremes m nature equal good produce^
Hx^vnes in man concur to general use.

/. 161.

Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his

Sees but a backward steward for the poor ;
This year a reservoir, to keep and spare ;
The next, a fountain, spouting through his

heir, t
In lavish streams to quench a country's

And men and dogs shall drink him till they

burst /. 17 1.

Bise, honest muse ! and sing the Man of
Boss! l.tSO.

Te little stars ! hide your diminished rays.

Who builds a diurch to Gk)d, and not to

WiU never mark the marble with his name.


In the worst inn's worst room.


And tape-tied curtainB, never meant to draw.

/. sot,

Alas ! how changed from him,
That life of i^eojsare, and that soul of whim !

Where London's column, pointing at the

Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies.

Constant at church, and change. 2. 347*

But Satan now is wiser than of yore.
And tempts by making rich, not making
poor. /. S5i,

The tempter saw his time; the work he

Stocks and subscriptionB poured on every

Till all the demon makes his full descent
In one abundant shower of cent, per cent.,
Smks deep within him, and possesses whole,
Then dubs director, and secures his souL

Good sense, which only is the gift of Heaven,
And though no science fairly worth the

Spittle 4. TbtheBarlofBwrlington. 1,43.

Lo, some are vellum, and the rest as good
For all his lordship knows, but they are
wood. *. 139.

Light quirks of music, broken and uneven.

Make the soul dance upon a jig to heaven.


To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite,

Who never mentions hell to ears polite.


Bid harbours open, public ways extend,

Bid temples, worthier of the God, ascend ;

Bid the broad arch the dangerous flood

The mole projected break the roaring main ;

Back to his bounds their subject sea com-

And roll obedient rivers through the land ;

These honours, Peace to li^ppy Britain

These are imperial works, and worthy
kings. 1 197.

See the wild waste of all-devouring years !
How Bome her own sad sepulchre appears I
EputU5. To Addison, 1,1.

The sacred rust of twice ten hundred years.

Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul

In action faithful, and in honour clear ;
Who broke no promise, served no private

Who gained no title, and who lost no friend.
Ennobled by himself, by all approved,
And prcused, unenviea, by the muse he

loved.* /. 67.

• This line In the epitaph in Westminster
Abbey on James Graggs, reads ** Praised, wept,
and bonoored, by the muse he loved.**


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Shut, shnt the door, good John ! fatigued I

Tie up the knocker ; say I^m sick, I*m dead.
Prologue to the Satires.
Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, 1 1,

Even Sunday shines no Sahhath day to me.


A clerk, foredoomed his father's soul to

Who pens a stanza, when ho should engross.

I. IT.

Friend to my Kf e which did you not prolong,
The world Imd wanted many an idle song.

Obliged by hunger and request of friends.

Fired that the house reject him, ** 'S death

1*11 print it.
And shame the fools." I. 61.

No creature smarts so little as a fool. /. 84>

Who shames a scribbler ? break one cobweb

He spins the slight, self-pleasing thread

anew ;
Destroy his fib or sophistry, in rain,
The creature's at his dirty work again.
Throned in the centre of his thin designs,
Proud of a vast extent of flimsy lines! /. 89,
As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame,
I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came.


This long disease, my life. /. 131,

Each word-catcher, that lives on syllables.


Pretty in amber to observe the forms

Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or

The things, we know, are neither rich nor

But wonder how the devil they got there.

/. 169.

Means not, but blunders rotmd about a

And he whose fustian's so sublimely bad.
It is not poetry, but prose nm mad. /. i^.

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

Damn with faint praise, assent with dvil

And, without sneering, teach the rest to

sneer ;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,

Just hint a fault and hesitate dislike. /. iOl,
And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged.

Like Cato, give hi^ little senate laws.
And ait attentive to hia own applause. /. t09.

Who but must laugh, if rach a man theft

Who would not weep if Atticus were he ?


Above a patron, though I condescend
Sometimes to call a mmister my friend,
I was not bom for courts or great affairs ;
I pay my debts, believe, and say my prayers.

Cursed be the verse, how well soe'er it flow.

That tends to make one worthy man my

foe. I m.

Let Sponis tremble ! — A. What that thing

of ^,
Sporus, that mere white curd of ass*8 milk ?
Satire or sense, alas ! can Sporus feel P
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel ?


So well-bred spaniels civilly delight
In mumbling of the game tney dare not bite.
Eternal smiles his emptiness betray.
As shallow streams run dimpling all the
way. /. S13.

Wit that can creep, and piide that licks the
dust. /. SSS.

That not in fancy's maze he wandered long ;

But stooped to truth, and moralised ms

song. /. S4O.

Unleam'd, he knew no schoolman's subtle

No language, but the language of the heart.
By nature honest, by experience wise,
Healthy by temperance, and by exercise.


To rock the cradle of reposing age.

With lenient arts extend a mother's breath.

Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of

Explore the thought, explain the asking eye.
And keep awhile one parent from the sky !


The lines are weak, another's pleased to say,
Lord Fanny spins a thousand such a day.
Satires and EpistlM of Horace, Imitated.
Book f, Sat. 2, /. 5.

In moderation placing all my glory,

While Tories call me Whig, and Whigs a

Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet
To nm amuck, and tilt at all I meet. /. 67,

But touch me, and no minister so sore
Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time
Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhjrme.
Sacred to ridicule his whole life long.
And the sad burthen of some merry song.


Tk9 feast of reason and the flow of touL



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It stands on record, that in Bicbaid^s times
A man was hanged for very honest rhymes.*
SatiTM and Bpisties, Imitated. 1145,
For I, who hold sage Homer's rule the hest,
Welcome the coming, speed the going guest f

In life's ood erenizigy satiate of applause.
F%r»t Book of the Epitile$
of Horace {Ep, I), /. 9.

When the brisk minor pants for twenty-one.

Kot to go hack, is somewhat to adyance,
And men must walk at least before tiiev
dance. /. 63,

Hiere, London's Toice: "Get money,

money still !
And then let lirtue follow if she will."

He's armed without that's innocent within.

Qei place and wealth, if possible, with grace ;
If not, by any means get wealth and place.

Koi to admire, is all the art I know.
To make men happy, and to keep them so.t

Ep, 6, LI.
The worst of madmen is a saint run mad.


A man of wealth is dubbed a man of worth.

Abore all Greek, aboye all Boman fame.

Second Book of the EpietUe
of Horace {Ep, i), /. t6.

Who lasts a eentnry can hare no flaw ;

I hold that wit a classic, good in law. /. 55,

The mob of gentlemen who wrote with ease.

One simile, that solitary shines
In the dry desert of a wousand lines.

/. lU.
What will a child learn sooner than a song ?


Waller was smooth ; bat Dryden taught to

• join

The Tazying Terse, the full resounding line.
The long majestic m'^TO^j and energy oiTine.

/. K7,
Eren copious Dryden wanted, or forgot.
The last and greatest art, the art to blot.


Who pants for glory finds but short repose,

A lireath reTires him or a breath o'erthrows.


* Jolm BsU, banged temp. Richnrd 11., reputed
satbor of the Uoes : ** When Adam delre, snd
£re ipsn, Who was then the gentleman t "

t Sm Pope's •• Odyssey.- Book 15, 88.

t Ihess liaes are adapted from Creech's tnuis>

There stil] remains, to mortify a wit,
The many-headed monster of the p^ LSO4,
What dear delight to Britons farce affords !
Erer the taste of mobs, but now of lords.

To know the poet from the man of rhymes.

We noets are (upon a poet's word)
Of aJl mankind, the creatures most absurd.

The zeal of fools offends at any time.
But most of all, the seal of fools in rhyme.

"Praise undesenred is scandal in disguise."^
Tears following years, steal somethinig every

At last they steal us from ourselves away.
Ep.t, L7$.

The vulgar boil, the learned roast an egg.

But let the fit pass o'er, Fm wise enough
To stop my ears to thdr confounded stuff.


Command old words that long have slept, to

Words that wise Bacon, or brave Baleij^

spake. /. 1§7.

But ease in writing flows from art, not

chance ;
As those move eadest who have learned to

dance. II /. 178.

Too moral for a wit.

EpUogue to the Satires. Dialogue 1, L 4-
His sly, polite, insinuating style
Could please at court, and make Augustus

smile. /. 19,

A horse-laugh if you please at honesty.

A patriot is a fool in every age. /. 4^.

All tears are wiped for ever from all eyes.

L lot.

Let humble Allen, with an awkward shame.

Do good by stealth, and blush to find it

fame. L 135,

To Berkeley, every virtue under heaven.


Keen, hollow winds howl through the dark

Emblem of music caused by emptiness.

The Dnnoiad. Book i, /. 55.

% From a poem " The Celebrated Bcantles ••
(Anon.), Toneon'a "Miscellanies" (1709). In
^•The Garland," a collection of poems by Mr.
Broadhurst (1721), the line appears ; ** Praise un-
deserved is satire in disgoise.^'^

I Sm '* Bssay on Criticism,'' p. S44.


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Poetio justice, with her lifted scale.
Where, in nice halanoe, truth with gold she

And solid pudding against empty praise.

The Dunolad. /. 6t,
But lived in Settle's numbers one day more.
Kow mayors and shrieTes aU hushed and

satiate lay,
Tet ate, in dreanuL the custard of the day ;
While pensive poets painful vigils keep,
Sleepless themselves to give their readers

sleep. 1, 90,

Swearing and supperlees the hero sate.
Blasphemed his gods, the dice, and damned
his fate. /. nS.

Sinldng from thought to thought, a vast

Plunged for his sense but found no bottom

Yet wrote and floundered on in mere despair.

/. 118.

Next o*er his books his eyes began to roll,
In pleasing memory of aU he stole. /. li^^.

Or where the i)ictures for the page atone.
And Quarles is saved by beauties not his
own. /. 2S9.

There saved by spice, like mummies, many

Dry bodies of divinity appear ;
Be Lyra there a dreadf id front extends.
And here the groaning shelves Philemon
bends. /, 261,

Tet holds the eel of science by the tail.

I. £80.
The field of gloiy is a field for alL

Book t, I. St.
And gentle dulness ever loves a joke. /. S4.
A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead.

I' 44^
Dulness is sacred in a sound divine. I. S52.

Till Peter's keys some christened Jove adorn.
Books, 1. 109.

Peeled, patched, and piebald, linsey-wolsey

Grave mummers! sleeveless some, and

shirtless others. i, JJS,

All crowd, who foremost shall be damned to
^ame. /. 258.

So sweetly mawkish, and so smoothly dull ;

Heady, not strong; o'erfiowing, though not
^^ 7. 171.

Another Cynthia her new journey runs.

And other planets circle otner suns. /. t4S.

A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits.
Book 4, I. 90.

The Bight Divine of kings to govern wrong.


For thee we dim the eyes, and stuff the head
With all such reading as was never read ;
For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it.
And write about it, goddess, and about it :
So spins the silk-worm small its lender

And labours till it clouds itself aU o'er.

I. $48.
Led by my hand, he sauntered Eurc^

And gathered every vice on Christian

ground. /. Sll,

Judicious drank, and greatly daring dined.

Stretched on the rack of a too easy chair,
And heard thy everlastine yawn confess
The pains ana penalties of idleness. /. S4t,

Even Paljnurus nodded at the hehn. L 6H,

Beligion blushing veils her sacred fires,
And unawares morality expires.
Nor public flame, nor j^vaie, dares to shine ;
Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse

Lo ! thy dread empire. Chaos ! is restored ;
Light dies before thy uncreatiiig word ;
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain

And universal darkness buries alL /. 649.

Time conquers all, and we must time obey.
Paitorala. WwUr. I. 88.

Not chaos-like together crushed and

But, as the world harmoniously confused ;
Where order in variety we see,
And where, though all things differ, aU

agre& Windsor Forest. L IS.

A mighty hunter, and his prey was man.

From old Belerium* to the northern main.

/. SIS.
And seas but join the regions they divide.

Jn a sadly-pleasing strain.

Ode on St. OeoiUa'B Day. St. t
While in more lengthened notes and slow.
The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow. Ih,
Jn a dying, dying falL lb.

Love, strong as death, the poet led. St. 4.
Music can soften pain to ease. St. 7,

Freedom and arts together fall ;
Fools grant whate'er ambition craves,
And men, once ignorant, are slaves.

Ohomses to ** Brutus.** /. 96.

* The Land's End.


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Havpy the man wboee wish and can

A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his natire air

In his own groond. Ode on BoUtada.

Th OS let me live, unseen, unknown.

Thus unlamented let me die.
Steal from the world, and not a stone

Tell where I lie. II

Vital spark of heayenly flame !
Quit, on quit this mortal frame.

Tha Dying Ghrlatlan to hii BouL

Hark ! thej whisper ; angels say,

Sster spirit, come away. lb.

Tell me, my soul, can this be death P Jb,

Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly !
O m,xel where is thy Tictory ?
O death, where is thy sting ? lb.

What beckoning ghost, along the moonlight

Inrites my steps and points to yonder glade ?
Blegy to the Memory of
an Unfortonato Lady. 1, 1.

Is it, in heaTen, a crime to Ioto too well ?


Is thoe no bright rererrion in the sky,
For those who greatly think, or bravely die P

Ambition first sprung from your blest

The glorious fault of angels and of gods.

Dim lights of life, that bum a length of

Useleai unseen, as lamps in sepulchres. /. 19,

So periah all whose breast ne*er learned to

For other's good or melt at other's woe.*

By foreign hands thy dying eyes were

By forogn hands thy decent limbs oom-

By foie^ hands thy humble grave adorned.
By strangers hcmoured, and by strangers

mourned ! L 51,

And bear about the mockery of woe

To midnight dances^ and tho public show.

/. 57.
So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name.
What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and

How kVed, how honoured once, avails thee

To whom related, or by whombecot ;
A heap of dust alone remains of thee,
liafl tboo art, and all the proud shall be !


r Book 18, 809-270.

A brave man struggling m the storms of fata.
And greatly falling^ with a falling state.
While Cato gives his little senate laws.
What bosom beats not in his country's
cause ? Prolotfne to Addlson*s Cato. /. tl.

Ignobly vain and impotently great. /. t9.

Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's

Some banished lover, or some captive maid.
Translations and Imitations.
Elolsa to Abelard. /. 61,

Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul.
And waft a dgh from Indus to the Pole.

I. ST.
Curse on all laws but those which love has

Love, free as air, at sight of human ties
Spreads his light wings, and in a moment

flies. /. 74-

O pious fraud of amorous charity ! I, 150^
Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.


Of all afiUction taught a lover yet,
'Tis sure the hardest science to forget !
How shall I lose the sin, yet keep uie sense.
And love the offender, yet detest the
offence P /. 189,

How happy is the blameless Vestal's lot !
The world forgetting, by the world fonrot.

I, tar.

One thought of thee puts all the pomp to

Priests, tapers, temples, swim before mv

sightt /. m.

See my lips tremble, and my eyeballs roU^
Suck my last breath, and catch the flymg
soul. I, SiS,

He best can paint 'em who shall feel 'em
most. /. 966,

Fame impatient of extremes, decays
Not more by envy than excess of praise.

The Temple of Fame. /. 4A>

These and a thousand more of doubtful

To whom old fables give a lasting name.


And boasting youth, and narrative old age,
Their pleas were different, their request Uia

For good and bad aUke are fond of fame.

I, t91.
But straight the direful trump of slander

sounds. /. S3t.

t *< Priests, altars, victims, swam before my
sight**— Bdmxtmd Smith (1668-1710), **PhKdxa
and Hippolytos," Act 1, So. !•


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To follow virtue even for virtue's sake.

The Temple of Fame. /. S65,

And all who told it added something new.

Online LibraryW. Gurney (William Gurney) BenhamCassell's book of quotations, proverbs and household words .. → online text (page 39 of 198)