221
MOORE: _Oft in the Stilly Night._

=Braes.=

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu'd the gowans fine.
222
BURNS: _Auld Lang Syne._

=Braggart.=

I know them, yea,
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple:
Scrambling, outfacing, fashion-monging boys,
That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave, and slander,
Go anticly, and show outward hideousness,
And speak off half a dozen dangerous words,
How they might hurt their enemies if they durst;
And this is all.
223
SHAKS.: _Much Ado,_ Act v., Sc. 1.

=Brains.=

The times have been
That, when the brains were out, the man would die,
And there an end; but now they rise again,
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools.
224
SHAKS.: _Macbeth,_ Act iii., Sc. 4.

=Bravery.=

'Tis more brave
To live, than to die.
225
OWEN MEREDITH: _Lucile,_ Pt. ii., Canto vi., St. 11.

None but the brave deserves the fair.
226
DRYDEN: _Alex. Feast,_ St. 1.

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blest!
227
COLLINS: _Lines in 1764._

=Breach.=

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,
Or close the wall up with our English dead!
228
SHAKS.: _Henry V.,_ Act ii., Sc. 4.

=Bread.=

O God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!
229
HOOD: _The Song of the Shirt._

=Breast.=

The yielding marble of her snowy breast.
230
WALLER: _On a Lady passing through a Crowd of People._

A word in season spoken
May calm the troubled breast.
231
CHARLES JEFFERYS: _A Word in Season._

=Breath.=

When the good man yields his breath
(For the good man never dies).
232
JAMES MONTGOMERY: _The Wanderer of Switzerland,_ Pt. v.

=Breeches.=

But the old three-cornered hat,
And the breeches, and all that,
Are so queer!
233
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES: _The Last Leaf._

=Breezes.=

Breezes of the South!
Who toss the golden and the flame-like flowers,
And pass the prairie-hawk that, poised on high,
Flaps his broad wings, yet moves not--ye have played
Among the palms of Mexico and vines
Of Texas, and have crisped the limpid brooks
That from the fountains of Sonora glide
Into the calm Pacific--have ye fanned
A nobler or a lovelier scene than this?
234
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT: _The Prairies._

=Brevity.=

Since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes--
I will be