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Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods?
The greatest attribute of heaven is mercy,
Beaumont and Fletcher.
O Mercy, heavenly bond, sweet attribute!
William Somerville. Hate shuts her soul when dove-eyed Mercy pleads.
Charles Sprague. Heaven oft in mercy smites, even when the blow Severest is.
Joanna Baillie. 430
MERIT. “Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves.” And well said too; for who shall go about To cozen fortune, and be honourable Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume To wear an undeserved dignity. O, that estates, degrees, and offices, Were not derived corruptly! and that clear honour Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer! How many then should cover, that stand bare! How many be commanded, that command!
Shakspere. Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
Pope. Let high birth triumph! What can be more great? Nothing—but merit in a low estate.
But then her face,
It is like mockery of the silent night
L. E. L.
METAPHYSIC. METEOR. MIGHT.
METAPIIYSIC. The mathematics, and the metaphysics, Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you.
Shakspere. The Metaphysic’s but a puppet motion That goes with screws, the notion of a notion; The copy of a copy, and lame draught Unnaturally taken from a thought: That counterfeits all pantomimic tricks, And turns the eyes like an old crucifix; That counterchanges whatsoe'er it calls B’another name, and makes it true or false; Turns truth to falsehood, falsehood into truth, By virtue of the Babylonian's tooth.
Hanging the monarch's hat so high,
Which did but blaze, and rove, and die. Prior.
What so strong · But wanting rest will also want of might?--Spenser. Quoth she, great grief will not be told,
And can more easily be thought than said; Right so, quoth he, but he that never would Could never: will to might gives greatest aid.
Spenser. Wherefore should not strength and might There fail, where virtue fails?
MILDNESS. MILITIA. MIMIC.
Thos. Lodge, The same majestic mildness held its place, Nor lost the monarch, in the dying face. Dryden.
His probity and mildness shows
As when the trumpet sounds, the o'erloaded state
The busy head with mimic art runs o'er
Who would with care some happy fiction frame,
As those things have wherein they are received; So little glasses little faces make,
And narrow webs on narrow frames are weaved. Then what vast body must we make the mind, Wherein are men, beasts, trees, towns, seas, and
lands; And yet each thing a proper place doth find, And each thing in the true proportion stands.
Sir John Davies. His sweetest mind, 'Twixt mildness tempered and low courtesy, Could leave as soon to be as not be kind;
Churlish despite ne'er looked from his calm eye, Much less commanded in his gentle heart, To baser men fair looks he would impart; Nor could he cloak ill thoughts in complimental art.
Phineas Fletcher. Our better mind Is as a Sunday garment, then put on When we have nought to do, but at our work We wear a worse for thrift.
The hand of time alone disarms
A thousand to adorn her mind. Broome.
Akenside, The mind doth shape itself to its own wants, And can bear all things.
Hard task, vain hope, to analyze the mind,