ill!
1715
WOTTON: _Character of a Happy Life._

=Skull.=

Look on its broken arch, its ruined wall,
Its chambers desolate, its portals foul;
Yes, this was once ambition's airy hall,
The dome of thought, the palace of the soul.
1716
BYRON: _Ch. Harold,_ Canto ii., St. 6.

=Sky.=

Man is the nobler growth our realms supply,
And souls are ripened in our northern sky.
1717
MRS. BARBAULD: _The Invitation._

The sky is changed,--and such a change. O night
And storm and darkness! ye are wondrous strong,
Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light
Of a dark eye in woman!
1718
BYRON: _Ch. Harold,_ Canto iii., St. 92.

=Slander.=

Slanderous reproaches, and foul infamies,
Leasings, backbitings, and vainglorious crakes,
Bad counsels, praises, and false flatteries;
All those against that fort did bend their batteries.
1719
SPENSER: _Faerie Queene,_ Bk. ii., Canto xi., St. 10.

'T is slander,
Whose edge is sharper than the sword: whose tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
Bides on the posting winds, and doth belie
All corners of the world,--kings, queens, and states,
Maids, matrons,--nay, the secrets of the grave
This viperous slander enters.
1720
SHAKS.: _Cymbeline,_ Act iii., Sc. 4.

'T was slander filled her mouth with lying words,--
Slander, the foulest whelp of sin.
1721
POLLOK: _Course of Time,_ Bk. viii., Line 715.

=Slave--Slavery.=

Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm
With favor never clasp'd: but bred a dog.
1722
SHAKS.: _Timon of A.,_ Act iv., Sc. 3.

He finds his fellow guilty of a skin
Not color'd like his own, and having pow'r
T' enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause
Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
1723
COWPER: _Task,_ Bk. ii., Line 12.

Corrupted freemen are the worst of slaves.
1724
DAVID GARRICK: _Prologue to the Gamesters._

Whatever day
Makes man a slave, takes half his worth away.
1725
POPE: _Odyssey,_ Bk. xvii., Line 392.

=Sleep.=

We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
1726
SHAKS.: _Tempest,_ Act iv., Sc. 1.

Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast.
1727
SHAKS.: _Macbeth,_ Act ii., Sc. 2.

Come, sleep, O sleep! the certain knot of peace,
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe;
The poor m