Page 326

Alexander Pope. (1688–1744) (continued)

3511

Fair tresses man’s imperial race insnare,
And beauty draws us with a single hair. 1

The Rape of the Lock. Canto ii. Line 27.

3512

Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey,
Dost sometimes counsel take—and sometimes tea.

The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 7.

3513

At every word a reputation dies.

The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 16.

3514

The hungry judges soon the sentence sign,
And wretches hang that jurymen may dine.

The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 21.

3515

Coffee, which makes the politician wise,
And see through all things with his half-shut eyes.

The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 117.

3516

The meeting points the sacred hair dissever
From the fair head, forever, and forever!

The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 153.

3517

Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain,
And the nice conduct of a clouded cane.

The Rape of the Lock. Canto iv. Line 123.

3518

Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

The Rape of the Lock. Canto v. Line 34.

3519

Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigued, I said;
Tie up the knocker! say I ’m sick, I ’m dead.

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 1.

3520

Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand,
They rave, recite, and madden round the land.

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 5.

3521

E’en Sunday shines no Sabbath day to me.

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 12.

3522

Is there a parson much bemused in beer,
A maudlin poetess, a rhyming peer,
A clerk foredoom’d his father’s soul to cross,
Who pens a stanza when he should engross?

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 15.

3523

Friend to my life, which did not you prolong,
The world had wanted many an idle song.

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 27.

3524

Obliged by hunger and request of friends.

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 44.

3525

Fired that the house rejects him, “’Sdeath! I ’ll print it,
And shame the fools.”

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 61.

Note 1.
See Burton, Quotation 66. [back]

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