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Like us they were design'd to eat, to drink,
A LORD (nor here let censure rashly call
Independence, vol. ii. p. 294. You say, a long descended race, And wealth, and dignity, and power, and place, Make gentlemen, and that your high degree Is much disparag’d to be match'd with me : Know this, my lord, nobility of blood, Is but a glitt'ring and fallacious good ; The nobieinan is he whose noble nind Is fill'd with inborn worth, unborrow'd from his kind.
DRYDEN. 121 Lt
Wife of Batb.
WHERE there's no difference in men's worth, Titles are jests.
BEAUMONT and FLETCHER.
King and no King.
My lord comes forward; forward let him come! Ye vulgar, at your peril, give him room ! With what a decent pride he throws his
eyes Above the man by three descents less wise ! Let high birth triumph : what can be more
Nothing but merit in a low estate.
WERE I so tall to reach the pole, Or grasp
the ocean with my span, I must be measur'd by my soul; The mind's the standard of the man.
WATTS. Lyric Poems, part ii.
What tho' no gaudy titles grac'd my birth! Titles, the servile courtier's lean reward ! Sometimes the pay of virtue, but more oft The hire which greatness gives to slaves and sycophants;
Yet heaven, that made me honest, made me more Than ever king did when he made a lord.
Jane Sbore, act. ii. -WHOE'ER amidst the sons Of reason, valour, liberty, and virtue, Displays distinguish'd merit, is a noble Of nature's own creating.
is HONOUR and shame from no condition rise
; Act well your part, there all the honour lies. Fortune in men has some small difference made; One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade, The cobler apron'd, and the parson gown'd, The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd. What differ more, you cry, than crown and cowl ? I'll tell you, friend; a wise man and a fool. Worth makes the man, and want of it the
fellow, The rest is all but leather or prunella. Stuck o'er with titles and hung round with
strings, That thou may’st be by kings, or whores of kings, Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race, In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece : But by your father's worth if yours you rate, Count me those only who were good and great. Go! if your antient, but ignoble blood Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood,
Go, and pretend your family is young;
RICH AND POOR.
IF you should see a flock of pigeons in a field of corn; and if (instead of each picking where, and what it liked, taking just as much as it wanted, and no more) you shall see ninety-nine of them gathering all they get into a heap; reserving nothing for themselves, but the chaff and refuse; keeping this heap for one, and that the weakest perhaps and worst pigeon of the flock; sitting round and looking on, all the winter, whilst this one was devouring, throwing about, and wasting it; and, if a pigeon more hardy or hungry than the rest, touched a grain of the hoard, all the others instantly flying upon it, and tearing it to pieces: if you should see this, you would see nothing more, than what is every day practised and established among men. Among men you see the ninety and nine, toiling and scraping together a heap of superfluities for one; getting nothing for themselves all the while, but a little of the coarsest of the provision, which their own labour produces; and this one oftentimes the feeblest and worst of the whole set, a child, a woman, a mad