A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
SHAKSPEARE.

Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great :
Oh! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint.
SHAKSPEARE.

It engenders choler; planteth anger;
And better 'twere that both of us did fast,
Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric,
Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh.
SHAKSPEARE.

Full many mischiefs follow cruel wrath,
Abhorred bloodshed, and tumultuous strife,
Unmanly murder, and unthrifty scath.

SPENSER: Faerie Queene.

The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream And greedily devour the treacherous bait; So angle we for Beatrice.

He, like a patient angler, ere he strook,
Would let them play awhile upon the hook.
DRYDEN.

Casting nets were spread in shallow brooks,
Drags in the deep, and baits were hung on hooks.
DRYDEN.

Nor drain I ponds the golden carp to take,
Nor troll for pikes, dispeoplers of the lake.
GAY.
In genial spring, beneath the quiv'ring shade,
Where cooling vapours breathe along the mead,
The patient fisher takes his silent stand,
Intent, his angle trembling in his hand:
With looks unmoved, he hopes the scaly breed, |
And eyes the dancing cork and bending reed.
POPE: Windsor Forest.

SHAKSPEARE.

Like unto golden hooks

That from the foolish fish their baits do hide. SPENSER.

Nymphs of Mulla, which, with careful heed, The silver scaly trouts did tend full well.

SPENSER.

Should you lure

From his dark haunt beneath the tangled roots Of pendent trees the monarch of the brook, Behoves you then to ply your finest art.

THOMSON.

The ladies angling in the crystal lake,
Feast on the waters with the prey they take.
WALLER.

Let me live harmlessly, and near the brink

Of Trent or Avon have a dwelling place; Where I may see my quill or cork down sink With eager bite of pearch, or bleak, or dace. IZAAK WALTON.

My copper medals by the pound
May be with learned justice weigh'd:
To turn the balance, Otho's head
May be thrown in; and for the mettle
The coin may mend a tinker's kettle.
PRIOR: Alma.

My copper lamps, at any rate,
For being true antique I bought;
Yet wisely melted down my plate
On modern models to be wrought;
And trifles I alike pursue

Because they're old, because they're new.
PRIOR: Alma.
His chamber all was hang'd about with rolls,
And old records from antient times derived;
Some made in books, some in long parchment
scrolls,

That were all worm-eaten, and full of canker holes.

SPENSER.

Rare are the buttons of a Roman's breeches,
In antiquarian eyes surpassing riches;
Rare is each crack'd, black, rotten, earthen dish,
That held of ancient Rome the flesh and fish.
DR. WOLCOTT.

How his eyes languish! how his thoughts adore
That painted coat which Joseph never wore!
He shows, on holidays, a sacred pin

That touch'd the ruff that touch'd Queen Bess's

chin.

YOUNG: Love of Fame.