WOMAN-WOMEN.

WOMAN, WOMEN-continued.

O woman! woman! thou primitive seducer,
That with the serpent clubb'd for our damnation !
Man was forewarn'd, and could have stood his guile;
But thou, the greater fiend, not being suspected,
Finish'd what Satan but imperfect drew!

707

Mountford, Successful Strangers

Men have many faults; poor women have but two:
There's nothing good they say, and nothing right they do.
Where is the man who has the power and skill Anonymous.
To stem the torrent of a woman's will?

For if she will, she will, you may depend on't,

And if she won't, she won't, so there's an end on't.

On a Pillar at Canterbury (See Notes & Queries, III. 285). The man's a fool who tries by force or skill

To stem the current of a woman's will;

For if she will, she will, you may depend on't,

And if she won't, she won't, and there's an end on't. WOODMAN.

See N. & Q. 1. 247.

Forth goes the woodman, leaving unconcern'd
The cheerful haunts of man to wield the axe
And drive the wedge in yonder forest drear;
From morn to eve his solitary task;

Shaggy, and lean, and shrew'd, with pointed ears,
And tail cropp'd short, half lurcher and half cur,
His dog attends him.

WOOING-see Courtship.

Cowper, Task, v. 41.

'Tis an old lesson; Time approves it true,

And those who know it best, deplore it most;
When all is won that all desire to woo,

The paltry prize is hardly worth the cost:
Youth wasted, minds degraded, honour lost,

These are thy fruits, successful Passion! these!
If, kindly cruel, early hope is crost,
Still to the last it rankles, a disease,

Not to be cur'd when love itself forgets to please.

Woo the fair one when around

Early birds are singing;

When o'er all the fragrant ground

Early flowers are springing;

When the brookside, bank, and grove
All with blossoms laden,

Shine with beauty, breathe of love,
Woo the timid maiden.

Byron, Ch. H. 11. 35.

W. C. Bryant (Am).

WORDS-see Calumny, Eloquence, Heedlessness, Letter, Slander.
Few words well couch'd do most content the wise. R. Greene.

One doth not know

How much an ill word may empoison liking, Sh. M. Ado, III. 1.

Words

Windy attorneys to their client woes,
Airy succeeders of intestate joys,

Poor breathing orators of miseries,

Let them have scope: though what they do impart

Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart. Sh. R. II. IV. 4. My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:

Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go. Sh. Ham. 111.3. Words are words; I never yet did hear,

That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear. Sh. Oth.1.3.
Men do foulest when they finest speak.

Words are the soul's ambassadors, that go
Abroad upon her errands, to and fro;
They are the sole expounders of the mind,

Sam. Daniel.

And correspondence keep 'twixt all mankind. James Howell.
Words beget anger: anger brings forth blows;
Blows makes of dearest friends immortal foes.

Herrick, Hesp. 485.

Apt words have power to 'suage

The tumours of a troubled mind,
And are as balm to fester'd wounds.

Milton, Sam. Ag. 186.

Words are but pictures, true or false design'd,
To draw the lines and features of the mind;

The characters and artificial draughts,
T' express the inward images of thoughts;
And artists say a picture may be good,
Although the moral be not understood;
Whence some infer they may admire a style,
Though all the rest be e'er so mean and vile;
Applaud th' outsides of words, but never mind
With what fantastic tawdry they are lin'd.
What you keep by you, you may change and mend ;
But words once spoke can never be recall'd.

Butler, Sat. 1.

Roscommon, Art of Poetry.

Men ever had, and ever will have, leave

To coin new words well suited to the age.

Words are like leaves, some wither every year,

And every year a younger race succeeds. Ib. Art of Poetry.

WORDS-WORLD.

WORDS-continued.
Soft words, with nothing in them, make a song.

709

Waller, to Mr. Creech.

Where do the words of Greece and Rome excel,
That England may not please the ear as well?
What mighty magic's in the place or air,
That all perfection needs must centre there?

Churchill, Rosciad, 201.

Words are things; and a small drop of ink,
Falling like dew upon a thought, produces

Byron, D. J.

That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
Thy words had such a melting flow,
And spoke of truth so sweetly well,

They dropp'd, like heaven's serenest snow,
And all was brightness where they fell!
WORDSWORTH.

Pedlars, and boats, and waggons! Oh ye shades
Of Pope and Dryden, are we come to this?
That trash of each sort not alone evades
Contempt, but from the bathos' vast abyss

Thos. Moore.

Floats scum-like uppermost, and these Jack Cades,
Of sense and song above your graves may hiss-

The Little Boatman,' and his Peter Bell,'

Can sneer at him who drew 'Achitophel.' Byron, D. J.111.116. WORKS.

If faith produce no works, I see

That faith is not a living tree.

Thus faith and works together grow,
No separate life they e'er can know :
They're soul and body, hand and heart ;-
What God hath join'd, let no man part.
WORLD-see Age, Time.

Why, then, the world's mine oyster,
Which I with sword will open.

Hannah More.

Sh. Mer. W. II. 2.

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;
A stage, where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.

Sh. M. of Ven. 1. 1.

You have too much respect upon the world:
They lose it, that do buy it with much care. Sh. As Y.L. 1. 1.
O, how full of briars is this working-day world! Ib. 1. 3.
Oh, what a world is this, when what is comely,

Envenoms him that bears it!

Sh. As Y. 1. II. 3.

Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy:

This wide and universal theatre

Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play it.

This earthly world; where to do harm

Is often laudable; to do good, sometimes
Accounted dangerous folly.

How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable

Seem to me all the uses of this world!

Sh. As Y. L. 11. 7,

Sh. Macb. IV. 2.

Fie on't! oh, fie! it is an unweeded garden,

That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in nature,
Possess it merely.

The world contains

Sh. Ham. 1. 2.

Princes for arms, and counsellors for brains,
Lawyers for tongues, divines for hearts, and more,
The rich for stomachs, and for backs the poor;
The officers for hands, merchants for feet,

By which remote and distant countries meet.
There was an ancient sage philosopher,
That had read Alexander Ross over,
And swore the world, as he could prove,
Was made of fighting and of love.

Donne.

Butler, Hud. 1. 2, 1.

The world's a wood, in which all lose their way,
Though by a different path each goes astray. Buckingham.
Like pilgrims to th' appointed place we tend;
The world's an inn, and death the journey's end.
E'en kings but play; and when their part is done,
Some other, worse or better, mounts the throne.

Dryden, Palamon and Arcite, III. 897.
Truth, modesty, and shame, the world forsook,
Fraud, avarice, and force their places took.

What is this world ?-A term which men have got,

To signify not one in ten knows what;

A term, which with no more precision passes

To point out herds of men than herds of asses;

In common use no more it means, we find,

Dryden.

Than many fools in same opinions joined. Churchill, Ni. 353. What is this world? Thy school, O misery!

Our only lesson is to learn to suffer,

And he who knows not that, was born for nothing.

Young, Revenge, 2. L.

Let not the cooings of the world allure thee;

Which of her lovers ever found her true? Young, N. T.viii.1272.

WORLD-continued.

WORLD.

The world is a well-furnish'd table,
Where guests are promiscuously set:
Where all fare as well as they're able,
And scramble for what they can get.
The world is a bundle of hay,
Mankind are the asses who pull;
Each tugs it a different way,

And the greatest of all is John Bull.
How beautiful is all this visible world!
How glorious in its action and itself!

Bickerstaff.

Byron, Epigram.

But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we,
Half dust, half deity, alike unfit

To sink or soar, with our mix'd essence make

A conflict of its elements, and breathe

A breath of degradation and of pride,

Contending with low wants and lofty will,
Till our mortality predominates,

And men are-what they name not to themselves,
And trust not to each other.

Byron, Manfred, 1. 2.

Well—well, the world must turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live and die, make love and pay the taxes,
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails;
The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us,
The priest instructs, and so our life exhales,

A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame,

Fighting, devotion, dust,-perhaps a name. Byron, D. J. 11. 4.
This same world of ours;

'Tis but a pool amid a storm of rain,

And we the air bladders that course up and down,

And joust and tilt in every tournament;

And when one bubble runs foul of another,

The weaker needs must break.

S. T. Coleridge.

This world is all a fleeting show,
For man's illusion given;

The smiles of joy, the tears of woe,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow-

There's nothing true but Heaven.

T. Moore, The World is all a Fleeting Show

'Tis a very good world that we live in,

To lend, or to spend, or to give in,
But to beg, or to borrow, or get a man's own,

"Tis the very worst world that ever was known.

Old Song