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BRAIN.

BRAVERY.

139

BRAIN.
My brain, methinks, is like an hour glass,
Wherein th' imaginations run to sands,
Filling up time; but then are turned and turned,
So that I know not what to stay upon,
And less to put in act.

Ben Jonson.

The brainless stripling, who expelled the town, Damned the stiff college, and pedantic gown.Tickell.

Busy brain! thy work is ever

On! on! on!
What hast thou with rest to do?
Rest shall still thy throbbings never;

On! on! on!
Yet thy ceaseless work pursue,

And thy reign,
For evil or for good, shall last
Till the dream of life is past!
Busy brain!

Richard Johns.

BRAVERY.

WHERE all the bravery that eye can see,
And all the happiness that heart desire,
Is to be found.

Spenser.

Let not old age disgrace my high desire,

O heavenly soul in human shape contained; Old wood inflamed doth yield the bravest fire, When younger doth in smoke its virtue spend.

Sir. P. Sidney. Morat's too insolent, too much a brave, His courage to his envy is a slave.

Dryden.

The ills of love, not those of fate I fear,
These I can brave, but those I cannot bear.

Dryden.

140

BRAVERY.

BREATH.

The brave do never shun the light;
Just are their thoughts, and open are their tempers;
Truly without disguise they love or hate;
Still are they found in the fair face of day,
And heaven and men are judges of their actions.

Rowe.
The brave man is not he who feels no fear;
For that were stupid and irrational;
But he whose noble soul its fear subdues,
And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from.

Joanna Baillie. —The truly brave, When they behold the brave oppress’d with odds, Are touch'd with a desire to shield or save.

Byron.
There is a tear for all who die,

A mourner o'er the humblest grave;
But nations swell the funeral cry,

And triumph weeps above the brave.Byron.

BREATH-BREATHING. KNEELING before this ruin of sweet life, And breathing to this breathless excellence The incense of a vow—a holy vow. Shakspere.

I have toward heaven to breathe a secret vow,
To live in prayer and contemplation. Shakspere.

His altar breathes Ambrosial odours and ambrosial flowers.

Milton.

No man has more contempt than I for breath;
But whence hast thou the power to give me death?

Dryden.
The artful youth proceed to form the quire
To breathe the flute, or strike the vocal lyre.

Prior. The princely dome, the column and the arch, The sculptur'd marble, and the breathing gold.

Akenside.

BREVITY.

BRIBES.

141

BREVITY.
SINCE brevity's the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes-
I will be brief.

Shakspere.

A play there is my lord some ten words long,
Which is as brief as I have known a play;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long,
Which makes it tedious.

Shakspere.

As 'tis a greater mystery, in the art
Of painting, to foreshorten any part,
Than draw it out, so 'tis in books, the chief
Of all perfections to be plain and brief

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For brevity is very good,
When we are, or are not, understood.

Butler.

Life's brevity is nature's kindest boon:

Made mortal, that immortal life may come-
So thou dost well, what boots to thee how soon,

Fate's welcome summers calls the wanderer home! Yet, dost thou sigh o'er youth's beclouded noon?

Alas! woes wait on all who further roam! Fresh tempests brood, and heaven's blue face deform, But he who soundly sleeps escapes the storm.

Beattie.

BRIBES-BRIBERY.
You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella
For taking bribes here of the Sardeans.

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What! shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for supporting robbers ;-shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes?
And sell the mighty space of our large honour
For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
I'd rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.

Shakspere.

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1.-Hark, how I'll bribe thee.
2.--How! bribe me?
1.-Aye, with such gifts, that heaven shall share

with you.
2.-You had marred all else.

1.--Not with fond shekels of the tested gold,
Or stones whose rates are either rich or poor,
As fancy values them: but with true prayers
That shall be up at heaven, and enter there
Ere sunrise; prayers from preserved souls;
From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate
To nothing temporal.

Shakspere. There's joy when to wild will you laws prescribe; When you bid fortune carry back her bribe.

Dryden. Nor less may Jupiter to gold ascribe, When he turned himself into a bribe. Waller.

No, I'll not trust the honour of a man:
Gold is grown great, and makes perfidiousness
A most common waiter in most princes' courts:
He's in the check-roll. I'll not trust my blood:
I know none breathing but will cog a dye
For twenty thousand double pistolets. Marston.

BRIDE-BRIDAL.
Nay, we must think men are not gods,
Nor of them look for such observance always,
As fits the bridal.

Shakspere.

Sweet day so cool, so calm, so bright,

The bridal of the earth and sky; Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night,

For thou must die.

Herbert.

Knit up thy spirit! Men should go faced in þrass In these high unabashed bridal times. Observe thou, when the virgin wife dawns forth · Like blushing morning! Ha! look where she comes,

BRIDE.

BRIGHTNESS.

143

In sweetness, like the hawthorn buds unblown; While the proud bridegroom, like the month of May, Steps in the midst of flowers.

Procter. They tell me, gentle lady, that they deck thee for a

bride, That the wreath is woven for thy hair, thy bridegroom

by thy side; And I think I hear thy father's sigh, thy mother's

calmer tone, As they give thee to another's arms—their beautiful, I never saw a bridal but my eyelid hath been wet, And it always seemed to me as though a joyous crowd

were met; To see the saddest sight of all, a gay and girlish

thing, Lay aside her maiden gladness—for a name—and for a ring

G. M. Fitzgerald.

their own;

BRIGHTNESS.
THE blazing brightness of her beauties' beam,
The glorious light of her sun-shining face,
To tell were as to strive against the stream.

Spenser.
Through a cloud,
Drawn round about thee like a radiant shrine,
Dark, with excessive bright, thy skirts appear.

Milton. Is she not brighter than a summer's morn, When all the heaven is streaked with dappled fire, And flecked with blushes like a rifled maid. Lee.

The purple morning rising with the year,
Salutes the spring, as her celestial eyes
Adorn the world, and brighten all the skies.

Dryden.
An ecstacy that only mothers feel
Plays round my heart, and brightens all my sorrow,
Like gleams of sunshine in a low’ring sky.

Phillips.

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