Could great men thunder
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet;
For every pelting, petty officer
Would use his heaven for thunder, -
Nothing but thunder. Merciful Heaven!
Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt,
Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarlèd oak,
Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man!
Drest in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assured,
His glassy essence, -- like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven,
As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.
Measure for Measure, Act ii. Sc. 2.
Such was that happy garden-state, While man there walked without a mate : After a place so pure and sweet,
What other help could yet be meet !
But 't was beyond a mortal's share
To wander solitary there :
Two paradises are in one,
To live in paradise alone.
The Garden (Translated).
But if much converse perhaps
Thee satiate, to short absence I could yield;
For solitude sometimes is best society,
And short retirement urges sweet return.
Paradise Lost, Book ix.
Sublime tobacco! which from east to west,
Cheers the tar's labor or the Turkinan's rest,
Divine in hookahs, glorious in a pipe,
When tipped with amber, mellow, rich and ripe :
Like other charmers, wooing the caress
More dazzlingly when daring in full dress;
Yet thy true lovers more admire by far
Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey, Thy naked beauties — Give me a cigar !
Dost sometimes counsel take-and sometimes tea.
Rape of the Lock, Cant. iii.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well,
In learned doctors' spite;
Thy clouds all other clouds dispel,
And lap me in delight.
We may live without friends; we may live Such is the custom of Branksome Hall.
The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Cant. i.
Incline to different objects: one pursues
The vast alone, the wonderful, the wild;
T Another sighs for harmony, and grace,
And gentlest beauty.
Such and so various are the tastes of men.
Pleasures of the Imagmation Book III. M. AKENSIDE
Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth
Finds the down pillow hard.
Cymbeline, Act iii. Sc. 6.
I care for nobody, no not I, if nobody cares for Care-charming sleep, thou easer of all woes,
Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose
On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud
In gentle showers; . . . sing his pain
Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain.
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