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John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.

Page 191

Robert Burton. (1577–1640) (continued)
The commonwealth of Venice in their armoury have this inscription: “Happy is that city which in time of peace thinks of war.”
Anatomy of Melancholy. Part ii. Sect. 2, Memb. 6.
“Let me not live,” saith Aretine’s Antonia, “if I had not rather hear thy discourse than see a play.”
Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 1, Memb. 1, Subsect. 1.
Every schoolboy hath that famous testament of Grunnius Corocotta Porcellus at his fingers’ end.
Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 1, Memb. 1, Subsect. 1.
Birds of a feather will gather together.
Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 1, Memb. 1, Subsect. 2.
And this is that Homer’s golden chain, which reacheth down from heaven to earth, by which every creature is annexed, and depends on his Creator.
Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 1, Memb. 2, Subsect. 1.
And hold one another’s noses to the grindstone hard.1
Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 1, Memb. 3.
Every man for himself, his own ends, the Devil for all.2
Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 1, Memb. 3.
No cord nor cable can so forcibly draw, or hold so fast, as love can do with a twined thread.3
Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 2, Memb. 1, Subsect. 2.
To enlarge or illustrate this power and effect of love is to set a candle in the sun.
Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 2, Memb. 1, Subsect. 2.
He is only fantastical that is not in fashion.
Anatomy of Melancholy. Part iii. Sect. 2, Memb. 2, Subsect. 3.
Note 1.
See Heywood, Quotation 30. [back]
Note 2.
See Heywood, Quotation 130. [back]
Note 3.
Those curious locks so aptly twin’d,
Whose every hair a soul doth bind.
Thomas Carew: Think not ’cause men flattering say.

One hair of a woman can draw more than a hundred pair of oxen.—Howell: Letters, book ii. iv. (1621).

She knows her man, and when you rant and swear,
Can draw you to her with a single hair.
John Dryden: Persius, satire v. line 246.

Beauty draws us with a single hair.—Alexander Pope: The Rape of the Lock, canto ii. line 27.

And from that luckless hour my tyrant fair
Has led and turned me by a single hair.
Bland: Anthology, p. 20 (edition 1813). [back]

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