Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence
Wielded at will that fierce democratie,
Shook the arsenal, and fulmined over Greece,
To Macedon. and Artaxerxes' throne.
_Paradise Regained, Bk, IV_. MILTON.

Where nature's end of language is declined,
And men talk only to conceal the mind.
_Love of Fame, Satire II_. DR. E. YOUNG.

What means this passionate discourse,
This peroration with such circumstance?
_Henry VI., Pt. II. Act i. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Frank, haughty, rash,--the Rupert of debate.
_The New Timon, Pt. I_. E. BULWER-LYTTON.

For rhetoric, he could not ope
His mouth, but out there flew a trope.

* * * * *

For all a rhetorician's rules
Teach nothing but to name his tools.
_Hudibras, Pt. 1. Canto 1_. S. BUTLER.

"I wonder if Brougham thinks as much as he talks,"
Said a punster, perusing a trial;
"I vow, since his lordship was made Baron Vaux,
He's been _Vaux et proeterea nihil_!"
_A Voice and Nothing More_. ANONYMOUS.

ORDER.

Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar
Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined;
Till at his second bidding darkness fled.
Light shone, and order from disorder sprung.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. III_. MILTON.

For the world was built in order
And the atoms march in tune:
Rhyme the pipe, and Time the warder,
The sun obeys them, and the moon.
_Monadnock_. R.W. EMERSON.

Mark what unvaried laws preserve each state,
Laws wise as Nature, and as fixed as Fate.
_Essay on Man, Epistle III_. A. POPE.

The heavens themselves, the planets and this centre
Observe degree, priority and place,
Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,
Office and custom, in all line of order.
_Troilus and Cresida, Act . Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

PAIN.

The scourge of life, and death's extreme disgrace,
The smoke of Hell, that monster called Paine.
_Sidera: Paine_. SIR P. SIDNEY.

Nothing begins, and nothing ends,
That is not paid with moan;
For we are born in others' pain,
And perish in our own.
_Daisy_. F. THOMPSON.

Pain is no longer pain when it is past.
_Nature's Lesson_. M.J. PRESTON.

Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain,
Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain.
_Love's Labor's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Alas! by some degree of woe
We every bliss must gain;
The heart can ne'er a transport know
That never feels a pain.
_S