Too great, too just, too noble to be happy.
Cibber—Zimena.
56. Though straiter bounds your fortune does confine,
In your large heart is found a wealthy mine
Waller.
57. Your heart has settled in a sea of pride,
Till every part is cold and petrified.
Miss H. F. Gould.
58. Your mirth is the pure spirits of various wit,
Yet never doth your God or friends forget;