lves die faster.
The far-famed sculptor, and the laurelled bard,
Those bold insurancers of deathless fame,
Supply their little feeble aids in vain.
_The Grave_. R. BLAIR.

By Jove! I am not covetous for gold;

* * * * *

But, if it be a sin to covet honor,
I am the most offending soul alive.
_King Henry V., Act_ iv. _Sc_. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,--
That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,

* * * * *

And give to dust, that is a little gilt,
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
_Troilus and Cressida, Act_ iii. _Sc_. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

Thrice happy he whose name has been well spelt
In the despatch: I knew a man whose loss
Was printed _Grove_, although his name was Grose.
_Don Juan, Canto VIII_. LORD BYRON.

Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favors call:
She comes unlooked for, if she comes at all.

* * * * *

Unblemished let me live, or die unknown;
O grant an honest fame, or grant me none!
_The Temple of Fame_. A. POPE.

It deserves with characters of brass
A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time
And razure of oblivion.
_Measure for Measure, Act_ v. _Sc_. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

Your name is great
In mouths of wisest censure.
_Othello, Act_ ii. _Sc_. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

Know ye not then, said Satan, filled with scorn,--
Know ye not me?

* * * * *

Not to know me argues yourselves unknown,
The lowest of your throng.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.

The aspiring youth that fired the Ephesian dome
Outlives, in fame, the pious fool that raised it.
_Shakespeare's King Richard III. (Altered), Act iii. Sc. 1_. C. CIBBER.

Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where fame's proud temple shines afar!
Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime
Has felt the influence of malignant star,
And waged with Fortune an eternal war;
Checked by the scoff of pride, by envy's frown,
And poverty's unconquerable bar,
In life's low vale remote has pined alone,
Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!
_The Minstrel, Bk. I_. J. BEATTIE.

FANCY.

This is the very coinage of your brain:
This bodiless creation ecstasy
Is very cunning in.
_Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

When I could not sleep for cold
I had fire enough in my brain,
A