out another's burning;
One pain is lessened by another's anguish;
Turn giddy, and be helped by backward turning;
One desp'rate grief cures with another's languish;
Take thou some new infection to the eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.
_Romeo and Juliet, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

All that's bright must fade,--
The brightest still the fleetest;
All that's sweet was made
But to be lost when sweetest!
_National Airs: All that's bright must fade_. T. MOORE.

O God! O God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
_Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan.
Sorrow calls no time that's gone:
Violets plucked, the sweetest rain
Makes not fresh nor grow again.
_The Queen of Corinth, Act iii. Sc. 2_. J. FLETCHER.

Sorrows remembered sweeten present joy.
_The Course of Time, Bk. I_. R. POLLOK.

Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest showers,
And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest winds.
_Misc. Sonnets, Pt. I. XXXIII_. W. WORDSWORTH.

Affliction is the good man's shining scene;
Prosperity conceals his brightest ray;
As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.
_Night Thoughts, Night IX_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Like a ball that bounds
According to the force with which 'twas thrown
So in affliction's violence, he that's wise
The more he's cast down will the higher rise.
_Microcosmos_. T. NABBES.

O, fear not in a world like this,
And thou shalt know erelong,--
Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.
_The Light of Stars_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

SOUL.

Summe up at night what thou hast done by day;
And in the morning what thou hast to do.
Dresse and undresse thy soul; mark the decay
And growth of it: if, with thy watch, that too
Be down, then winde up both; since we shall be
Most surely judged, make thy accounts agree.
_The Temple: The Church Porch_. G. HERBERT.

Go to your bosom;
Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.
_Measure for Measure, Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

O ignorant, poor man! what dost thou bear
Locked up within the casket of thy breast?
What jewels and what riches hast thou there?
What heavenly treasure in so weak a chest?
_Worth of the Soul_. SIR J. DAVIES.

Let Fortune empty all her quiver on me;
I have a soul that l