'VE thought very often 'twould be a good thing
In all public collections of books, if a wing
Were set off by itself, like the seas from the dry lands,
Marked "Literature suited to desolate islands,"
And filled with such books as could never be read
Save by readers of proofs, forced to do it for bread,—
Such books as one's wrecked on in small country taverns,
Such as hermits might mortify over in caverns,
Such as Satan, if printing had then been invented,
As a climax of woe, would to Jove have presented,
Such as Crusoe might dip in, although there are few so
Outrageously cornered by fate as poor Crusoe.
J. R. Lowell, A Fable for Critics.
ELLMOUR Ah! courtship to marriage is but as the music in the play-house till the curtain's drawn; but that once up, then opens the scene of pleasure.
Belinda. Oh, foh—no; rather, courtship to marriage is a very witty prologue to a very dull play.
Congreve, The Old Bachelor.
ON HEARING A LADY PRAISE A CERTAIN REV. DOCTOR'S EYES.
CANNOT praise the Doctor's eyes;
I never saw his glance divine;
He always shuts them when he prays,
And when he preaches he shuts mine.