43. Virtue's his path, but sometimes 'tis too narrow For his vast soul, and then he starts wide out, And bounds into a vice that bears him far From his first course, and plunges him in ills. DRYDEN--_All for Love._ 44. A man whom storms can never make Meanly complain, nor can a flattering gale Make him talk proudly. DR. WATTS. 45. He'll prattle shrewdly with such witty folly, As almost betters reason. JOHN HOWARD PAYNE. 46. Heed not, though at times he seem Dark and still, and cold as clay; He is shadow'd by his dream, But 'twill pass away. BARRY CORNWALL. 47. He quick is anger'd, and as quick His short-lived passion's over-past, Like summer lightnings, flashing thick, But flying ere a bolt is cast. E. D. GRIFFIN. 48. Oh, he's as tedious As a tired horse, a railing wife, Worse than a smoky house. _Henry IV._ 49. Love, the germ Of his mild nature, hath spread graces forth, Expanding with its progress; as the store Of rainbow color, which the seed conceals, Sheds out its tints from its dim treasury To flush and circle in the flower. TALFOURD--_Ion._ 50. He is----but what need I say that or this, I'd spend a month to tell ye what he is! RAMSAY--_Gentle Shepherd._ 51. With maids he's softer than the clouds in May; But had you seen him, lady, in his ire, When, like one born of thunder, he did march And strike down men as stubble sinks in fire-- But then he hath a tongue could wile The laverock from the cloud. ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 52. Within his soul Springs up a deep sense of the beautiful, The holy, the exalted, and a love Embracing in its circle all creation. LADY FLORA HASTINGS. 53. He so light is at legerdemain, That what he touches comes not to light again. SPENSER. 54. Though learn'd, well-bred; and though well-bred, sincere; Modestly bold, and humanely severe. POPE. 55. To express his mind to sense, Would ask a heaven's intelligence, Since nothing can report that flame But what's of kin to whence it came. BEN JONSON. 56. A little, upright, pert, tart, tripping wight, That holds his precious self his dear delight, And loves his own smart shadow in the street. BURNS. 57. No caprice of mind, No passing influence of idle time, No popular show, no clamor from the crowd Can move him, erring, from the path of right. W. G. SIMMS.