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POLITENESS is nothing more than an elegant and concealed species of flattery, tending to put the person to whom it is addressed in good-humour and respect with himself; but if there is a parade and display affected in the exertion of it, if a man seems to say: Look how condescending and gracious I am! whilst he has only the common offices of civility to perform, such politeness seems founded in mistake, and calculated to recommend the wrong person; and this mistake I have observed frequently to occur in French manners.


DEFERENCE is the most complicate, the most indirect, and the most elegant of all compliments.


COMPLAISANCE, though in itself it be scarce reckoned in the number of moral virtues, is that which gives a lustre to every talent a man can be possessed of. It was Plato's advice to an unpolished writer, that he should sacrifice to the Graces. In the same manner I would advise every man of learning, who would not appear in the world a mere scholar, or philosopher, to make himself master of the social virtue which I have here mentioned. Complaisance renders a superior amiable, an equal agreeable, and an inferior acceptable. It smooths distinction, sweetens conversation, and makes every one in the company pleased with himself. It produces good nature and mutual benevolence, encourages the timorous, soothes the turbulent, humanises the fierce, and distinguishes a society of civilised persons from a confusion of savages.


CEREMONIES are different in every country; but true politeness is everywhere the same. Ceremonies which take up so much of our attention, are only artificial helps which ignorance assumes in order to imitate politeness, which is the result of good sense and good nature. A person possessed of those qualities, though he had never seen a court, is truly agreeable; and if without them, would continue a clown, though he had been all his life a gentleman usher.

Citizen of the World.

THE follies of others are ever most ridiculous to those who are themselves most foolish.



Was but devised at first, to set a gloss

On faint deeds, hollow welcomes.

O HARD condition! twin-born with greatness,
Subjected to the breath of every fool, whose sense
No more can feel, but his own wringing!
What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect,
That private men enjoy?

And what have kings, that privates have not too,
Save ceremony, save general ceremony?

And what art thou, thou idle ceremony?

What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more
Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
What are thy rents? what art thy comings-in?
O ceremony, show me but thy worth!

What is the soul of adoration ?

Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men ?

Wherein thou art less happy, being fear'd,

Than they in fearing.

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,

But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness, And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!

Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out

With titles blown from adulation?

Will it give place to flexure and low bending?

Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose!

I am a king that find thee; and I know,
'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The inter-tissued robe of gold and pearl,
The farced title running 'fore the king,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of this world,
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,

Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,
Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,

Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread:

Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;
But, like a lackey, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night
Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn,
Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse;
And follows so the ever-running year,
With profitable labour, to his grave:
And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,
Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.
The slave, a member of the country's peace,
Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots

What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,*
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.

Henry V., Act IV., Scene 1.


WHEN two people compliment each other with the choice of any thing, each of them generally gets that which he likes




SHEPHERD, I take thy word,
And trust thy honest-offered courtesy,
Which oft is soonest found in lowly sheds
With smoky rafters, than in tapestry halls
In court of princes, where it first was named,
And yet is most pretended.



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Aches contract and starve your supple joints!

That there should be small love 'mongst these sweet knaves,
And all this court'sy! The strain of man's bred out
Into baboon and monkey.

Timon of Athens. CEREMONY resembles that base coin which circulates through a country by the royal mandate; it serves every purpose of real money at home; but it is entirely useless if carried abroad: a

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The many still must labour for the one!

'Tis nature's doom-but let the wretch who toils,
Accuse not, hate not him who wears the spoils.
Oh! if he knew the weight of splendid chains,
How light the balance of his humbler pains.

The Corsair, Canto I.

person who should attempt to circulate his native trash in another country would be thought either ridiculous or culpable. He is truly well-bred who knows when to value and when to despise these national peculiarities which are regarded by some with so much observance. A traveller of taste at once perceives that the wise are polite all the world over; but that fools are only polite at home.


SUCCESS, the mark no mortal wit,
Or surest hand can always hit.
For whatsoe'er we perpetrate,
We do but row, we're steer'd by Fate,
Which in success oft disinherits,
For spurious causes, noblest merits.
Great actions are not always true sons
Of great and mighty resolutions;
Nor do th' boldest attempts bring forth
Events still equal to their worth;
But sometimes fail, and, in their stead,
Fortune and cowardice succeed.


Hudibras, Part I., Canto 1.

THERE's nothing our felicities endears,

Like that which falls among our doubts and fears,
And in the miserablest of distress

Improves attempts as desperate with success;
Success that owns and justifies all quarrels,
And vindicates deserts of hemp with laurels ;
Or but miscarrying in the bold attempt,
Turns wreaths of laurel back again to hemp.

BUTLER. Miscellaneous Thoughts.


CENSURE is the tax a man pays to the public for being eminent.



IF a proneness to find faults is a very ill and mean thing, we are to remember that a proneness to believe them is next to it.* SOUTH.

# To speak no slander, no nor listen to it.



MODERATION is the silken string running through the pearlchain of all virtues.



Nor speaking much, pleased rather with the joy of her own thought.

WORDSWORTH. The Excursion.

FOR solitude sometimes is best society,
And short retirement urges sweet return.

Paradise Lost, Book IX.


AND let me tell you, that every misery I miss is a new blessing.



RELIGION Converts despair, which destroys, into resignation, which submits.



NONE can aspire to act greatly, but those who are of force greatly to suffer. They who make their arrangements in the first run of misadventure, and in a temper of mind the common fruit of disappointment and dismay, put a seal on their calamities. To their power they take a security against any favours which they might hope from the usual inconstancy of fortune.


TRUE Fortitude I take to be the quiet possession of a man's self, and an undisturbed doing his duty, whatever evil besets or danger lies in his way.

LOCKE. On Education.

WHO fights

With passions, and o'ercomes them, is endued
With the best virtue-passive fortitude.


THE constantly cheerful man, who survives his blighted hopes and disappointments, who takes them just for what they are, lessons, and perhaps blessings in disguise, is the true hero.

Gentle Life.

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