get.
_Gifts of the Gods_. J.G. SAXE.

O polished perturbation! golden care!
That keepest the ports of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night!
_K. Henry IV., Pt. II. Act iv. Sc. 5_. SHAKESPEARE.

Let one unceasing, earnest prayer
Be, too, for light,--for strength to bear
Our portion of the weight of care,
That crushes into dumb despair
One half the human race.
_The Goblet of Life_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

Let the world slide, let the world go:
A fig for care, and a fig for woe!
If I can't pay, why I can owe,
And death makes equal the high and low.
_Be Merry Friends_. J. HEYWOOD.

Begone, dull Care, I prithee begone from me;
Begone, dull Care, thou and I shall never agree.
_Begone, Old Care_. PLAYFORD'S _Musical Companion_.

CHANCE.

That power
Which erring men call Chance.
_Comus_. MILTON.

Chance will not do the work--Chance sends the breeze;
But if the pilot slumber at the helm,
The very wind that wafts us towards the port
May dash us on the shelves.--The steersman's part is vigilance,
Blow it or rough or smooth.
_Fortunes of Nigel_. SIR w. SCOTT.

I shall show the cinders of my spirits
Through the ashes of my chance.
_Antony and Cleopatra, Act_ v. _Sc_. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

And grasps the skirts of happy chance.
And breasts the blows of circumstance.
_In Memoriam, LXIII_. A. TENNYSON.

You'll see that, since our fate is ruled by chance,
Each man, unknowing, great,
Should frame life so that at some future hour
Fact and his dreamings meet.
_To His Orphan Grandchildren_. V. HUGO.

CHANGE.

Weep not that the world changes--did it keep
A stable, changeless state, it were cause indeed to weep.
_Mutation_. W.C. BRYANT.

Manners with fortunes, humors turn with climes,
Tenets with books, and principles with times.
_Moral Essays, Epistle I. Pt. II_. A. POPE.

As hope and fear alternate chase
Our course through life's uncertain race.
_Rokeby, Canto VI_. SIR W. SCOTT.

This world is not for aye, nor 't is not strange
That even our loves should with our fortunes change.
_Hamlet, Act_ iii. _Sc_. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

Man's wretched state,
That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.
_Faerie Queene, Bk. III. Canto IX_. E. SPENSER.

Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:
O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Shou