he deep,
Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,
And pluck up drowned honor by the locks.
_K. Henry IV., Pt. I. Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

A wild dedication of yourselves
To unpathed waters, undreamed shores.
_Winter's Tale, Act_ iv. _Sc_. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

ADVERSITY.

Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
_As You Like It, Act_ i. _Sc_. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

Calamity is man's true touchstone.
_Four Plays in One: The Triumph of Honor, Sc_. 1.
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchanged
To hoarse or mute, though fallen on evil days,
On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. VII_. MILTON.

Tho' losses and crosses
Be lessons right severe,
There's wit there, ye'll get there,
Ye'll find nae otherwhere.
_Epistle to Davie_. R. BURNS.

By adversity are wrought
The greatest work of admiration,
And all the fair examples of renown
Out of distress and misery are grown.
_On the Earl of Southampton_. S. DANIEL.

Aromatic plants bestow
No spicy fragrance while they grow;
But crushed or trodden to the ground,
Diffuse their balmy sweets around.
_The Captivity, Act_ i. O. GOLDSMITH.

The Good are better made by Ill,
As odors crushed are sweeter still.
_Jacqueline_. S. ROGERS.

Daughter of Jove, relentless power,
Thou tamer of the human breast.
Whose iron scourge and torturing hour
The bad affright, afflict the best!
_Hymn to Adversity_. T. GRAY.

'T is better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content.
Than to be perked up in a glistering grief,
And wear a golden sorrow.
_King Henry VIII., Act_ ii. _Sc_. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

As if Misfortune made the throne her seat,
And none could be unhappy but the great.
_The Fair Penitent: Prologue_. N. ROWE.

None think the great unhappy, but the great.
_Love of Fame, Satire I_. DR. E. YOUNG.

My pride fell with my fortunes.
_As You Like It, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

We have seen better days.
_Timon of Athens, Act iv. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

If ever you have looked on better days;
If ever been where bells have knolled to church.
_As You Like It, Act ii. Sc. 7_. SHAKESPEARE.

O, who can hold a fire in his hand
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite
By bare imagination of a fe