13. You are positive and fretful, Heedless, ignorant, forgetful. SWIFT. 14. There is one rare, strange virtue in thy speeches, The secret of their mastery--they're short. HALLECK. 15. For contemplation framed, Shy and unpractised in the strife of phrase, Yours is the language of the heavens, the power, The thought, the image, and the _silent_ joy. Words are but under-agents in your soul. WORDSWORTH. 16. You take delight in others' excellence, A gift which nature rarely doth dispense; Of all that breathe, 'tis you, perhaps, alone, Would be well pleased to see yourself outdone. YOUNG--_Epistles_. 17. You are the Punch to stir up trouble, You wriggle, fidge, and make a riot, Put all your brother puppets out. SWIFT. 18. You'd shake hands with a king upon his throne, And think it kindness to his majesty. HALLECK. 19. The meanest thing, earth's feeblest worm, You fear to scorn or hate; But honor in a peasant's form The equal of the great. EBENEZER ELLIOTT. 20. You may be thrown among the gay and reckless sons of life, But will not love the revel scene or head the brawling strife. ELIZA COOK. 21. You are one, Who can play off your smiles and courtesies To every lady, of her lap-dog tired, Who wants a plaything. SOUTHEY. 22. Come, rouse thee now;--I know thy mind, And would its strength awaken; Proud, gifted, noble, ardent, kind. ANNA P. DINNIES. 23. In choice Of morsels for the body, nice are you, And scrupulous;-- And every composition know Of cookery. POLLOK--_Course of Time_. 24. A man thou seem'st of cheerful yesterdays, And confident to-morrows. WORDSWORTH. 25. Sir, I confess you to be one well read In men and manners, and that usually The most ungovern'd persons, you being present, Rather subject themselves unto your censure, Than give you least occasion of distaste, By making you the subject of their mirth. BEN JONSON. 26. When nae real ills perplex you, You make enow yoursel' to vex you. BURNS. 27. You speak an infinite deal of nothing. _Merchant of Venice._ 28. Calm, serene, Your thoughts are clear and honest, and your words, Still chosen most gently, are not yet disguised To please the ear of tingling vanity. W. G. SIMMS.