ife.
_Immortality_. M. ARNOLD.

God keeps a niche
In Heaven, to hold our idols; and albeit
He brake them to our faces, and denied
That our close kisses should impair their white,--
I know we shall behold them raised, complete,
The dust swept from their beauty, glorified,
New Memnons singing in the great God-light.
_Futurity with the Departed_. E.B. BROWNING.

The wisest men are glad to die; no fear
Of death can touch a true philosopher.
Death sets the soul at liberty to fly.
_Continuation of Lucan_. T. MAY.

Alas! for love, if thou art all,
And naught beyond, O Earth!
_The Graves of a Household_. MRS. F. HEMANS.

'Tis not the whole of life to live:
Nor all of death to die.
_The Issues of Life and Death_. J. MONTGOMERY.

Since heaven's eternal year is thine.
_Elegy on Mrs. Killegrew_. J. DRYDEN.

INCONSTANCY.

Look, as I blow this feather from my face,
And as the air blows it to me again,
Obeying with my wind when I do blow,
And yielding to another when it blows,
Commanded always by the greater gust;
Such is the lightness of you common men.
_King Henry VI., Pt. III. Act iii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more.
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea and one on shore;
To one thing constant never.
_Much Ado about Nothing, Act ii. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

There is no music in a voice
That is but one, and still the same;
Inconstancy is but a name
To fright poor lovers from a better choice.
_Shepherd's Holiday_. J. RUTTER.

The fraud of men was ever so
Since summer first was leafy.
_Much Ado about Nothing, Act ii. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

Love ne'er should die;...
One object lost, another should succeed;
And all our life be love.
_Pastorals_. T. BROWN.

There are three things a wise man will not trust:
The wind, the sunshine of an April day,
And woman's plighted faith.
_Madoc_. R. SOUTHEY.

Who trusts himself to woman or to waves
Should never hazard what he fears to lose.
_Governor of Cyprus_. J. OLDMIXON.

Away, away--you're all the same,
A flattering, smiling, jilting throng!
O, by my soul, I burn with shame,
To think I've been your slave so long!
_Song_. T. MOORE.

Frailty, thy name is woman!
_Hamlet, Act_ i. _Sc_. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

HAMLET.--Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?

OPHELIA.--'Tis brief, my lord.

HAM