fail
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale.
_The Traveller_. O. GOLDSMITH.

They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet
Quaff immortality and joy.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. V_. MILTON.

Bone and Skin, two millers thin,
Would starve us all, or near it;
But be it known to Skin and Bone
That Flesh and Blood can't bear it.
_On Two Monopolists_. J. BYROM.

Nothing's more sure at moments to take hold
Of the best feelings of mankind, which grow
More tender, as we every day behold,
Than that all-softening, overpowering knell,
The tocsin of the soul--the dinner bell!
_Don Juan, Canto V_. LORD BYRON.

Their various cares in one great point combine
The business of their lives, that is--to dine.
_Love of Fame_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Across the walnuts and the wine.
_The Miller's Daughter_. A. TENNYSON.

No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk;
Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things
I shall digest it.
_Merchant of Venice, Act iii. Sc. 5_. SHAKESPEARE.

TASTE.

Some say, compared to Bononcini,
That Mynheer Handel's but a ninny;
Others aver,--that he to Handel
Is scarcely fit to hold a candle:
Strange all this difference should be,
'Twixt tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee!
_On the Feuds between Handel and Bononcini_. J. BYROM.

What's one man's poison, signor,
Is another's meat or drink.
_Love's Cure, Act iii. Sc. 2_. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

Different minds
Incline to different objects: one pursues
The vast alone, the wonderful, the wild;
Another sighs for harmony, and grace,
And gentlest beauty.

* * * * *

Such and so various are the tastes of men.
_Pleasures of the Imagination, Bk. III_. M. AKENSIDE.

TEAR.

The rose is fairest when 't is budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew.
And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.
_Lady of the Lake, Canto IV_. SIR W. SCOTT.

O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies
In the small orb of one particular tear!
_A Lover's Complaint, Stanza XLII_. SHAKESPEARE.

Sunshine and rain at once.
_King Lear, Act iv. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

The drying up a single tear has more
Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore.
_Don Juan, Canto VIII_. LORD BYRON.

And weep the more, because I weep in vain.
_On the Death of Mr. West_. T. GRAY.

Oh! would I were dead