How comes it then that our affections jar ? Our affections cannot be compell'd, Though our actions may. Drayton, Cyril Tourneur's Atheist's Tragedy. O you much partial Gods! Why gave ye men affections, and not pow'r That fire's not out, which does in ashes burn. For affections injur'd Lodovick Barrey's Ram-Alley. Henry Glapthorne's Hollander. By tyranny, or rigour of compulfion, Like tempeft-threatned trees, unfirmly rooted, John Ford's Broken Heart. See how affection fways! though both our reasons Were of one colour, mine look'd dull, thine bright, When prejudice and favour chang'd the light. Sir Robert Stapylton's Step Mother. Affection is become a parafite; Strives to please whom it cannot benefit. Sir William Davenant's Cruel Brother. ALLIANCE. Whofo doth of a prince alliance crave, He means thereby to work fome point of ill, Or elfe to frame the prince unto his will. Mirror for Magiftrates. 1. I fought none of your alliance, I2. Has he the speed to run beyond himself? 3. Yes, and bring himself about, I warrant you. 1. Nor to be join'd with houfes of great found, Whose noise grows from their hollow emptiness. I could have match'd my daughter here, that was But now a baronettefs in reverfion, To a fubftantial heir of two fair lordships. 2. Per 2. Perhaps no gentleman. 1. Yet honourable, land-lordfhip's real honour, And you walk in them, when your land is gone, Richard Brome's Damoiselle. AMAZEMENT. Why ftand you thus amaz'd? Methinks your eyes Are fix'd in meditation; and all here Seem like so many senseless statues ; As if your fouls had fuffer'd an eclipse Betwixt your judgments and affections. Swetnam, the Woman-Hater. AMBASSADOR S. For all ambaffadors Have chiefly these inftructions; To note the state and chief sway of the court, And wring beneath some private discontent. Chapman's First Part of Byron's Confpiracy. Ambaffadors that cram into their breasts Secrets of kings, and kingdoms interests, Have not their calling's full preheminence, 'Till they grow greater by removing hence; Like fubjects here they but attend the throne, ... Yet fwell like kings companions when they're gone. Sir W. Davenant. AMBITION. The thirst of reign and fweetness of a crown, What better prefident than mighty Fove? Marlo's First Part of Tamburlaine the Great. 'Tis a common-proof, Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous; Shakespear's Julius Cæfar. Who Who foars too near the fun, with golden wings, Melts them; to ruin his own fortune brings. Shakespear's Cromwell. Thriftless ambition! that will ravin up Thine own life's means. Shakespear's Macbeth. How doft thou wear, and weary out thy days, Whofe travels no Herculean pillar ftays, Daniel's Philotas. They that from youth do fuck at fortune's breaft, And nurse their empty hearts with seeking higher, Like dropfy fed, their thirst doth never reft; For, ftill by getting, they encrease defire : Till thoughts, like wood, while they maintain the flame Of high defires, grow afhes in the fame. Lord Brook's Mustapha. Thofe who delight in climbing high, Oft by a precipice do die. E. of Sterline's Darius. Of all the paffions which poffefs the foul, None fo disturbs vain mortals minds, As vain ambition, which fo blinds The light of them, that nothing can control, Nor curb their thoughts who will aspire; This raging vehement defire Of fovereignty no fatisfaction finds, But in the breafts of men doth ever roul The restless stone of Sisyph' to torment them, The vulture gnaws, fo doth that monfter rent them: Had they the world, the world would not content them. C 3 E. of Sterline's Darius. Ambi Ambition, that near vice To virtue, hath the fate of Rome, provok'd, While aught remains that feems but worth defiring. To which things far feem fmaller than they are) Her errors up, this fortune to prevent; T'have feen her crimes ere they were past, And felt her faults before her punishment! Johnfon's Catilina, All other acts of worldings are but toil 'Till he become both their, and his own curfe! Farewel for ever; fo have I difcern'd An exhalation that would be a ftar Fobnform. Chapman's Second Part of Byron's Confpiracy, He is at no end of his actions bleft, Whofe ends will make him greatest, and not best: When clouds spit fire at hills, and burn them bare? Not |