Jessica. I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a Christian.
Launcelot. Truly the more to blame he; we were Christians enough before, e’en as many as could well live by one another: this making of Christians will raise the price of hogs; if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not have a rasher on the coals for money.
Merchant of Venice, act 3. sc. 6.
In western clime there is a town,
To those that dwell therein well known;
Therefore there needs no more be said here,
We unto them refer our reader:
For brevity is very good,
When w’ are, or are not understood.
Hudibras, canto 1.
But Hudibras gave him a twitch,
As quick as lightning, in the breech,
Just in the place where honour’s lodg’d,
As wise philosophers have judg’d;
Because a kick in that part, more
Hurts honour, than deep wounds before.
Ibid. canto 3.
Ludicrous junction of small things with great, as of equal importance.
This day black omens threat the brightest fair
That e’er deserv’d a watchful spirit’s care;
Some dire disaster, or by force, or flight;
But what, or where, the fates have wrapt in night:
Whether the nymph shall break Diana’s law;
Or some frail china jar receive a flaw;
Or stain her honour, or her new brocade;
Forget her pray’rs, or miss a masquerade;
Or lose her heart, or necklace, at a ball;
Or whether Heav’n has doom’d that Shock must fall.
Rape of the Lock, canto ii. 101.
One speaks the glory of the British Queen,
And one describes a charming Indian screen.
Ibid. canto iii. 13.
Then flash’d the living lightning from her eyes,
And screams of horror rend th’ affrighted skies.
Not louder shrieks to pitying heav’n are cast,
When husbands, or when lapdogs breathe their last;
Or when rich china vessels fall’n from high,
In glitt’ring dust, and painted fragments lie!
Ibid. canto iii. 155.
Not youthful kings in battle seiz’d alive,
Not scornful virgins who their charms survive,
Not ardent lovers robb’d of all their bliss,
Not ancient ladies when refus’d a kiss,
Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,
Not Cynthia when her manteau’s pinn’d awry,
E’er felt such rage, resentment, and despair,
As thou, sad virgin! for thy ravish’d hair.
Ibid. canto iv. 3.