DR. S. JOHNSON.
Patience, my lord! why, 't is the soul of peace;
Of all the virtues 'tis nearest kin to heaven;
It makes men look like gods. The best of men
That e'er wore earth about him was a sufferer,
A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit,
The first true gentleman that ever breathed.
_The Honest Whore, Pt. I. Act i. Sc. 12_. T. DEKKER.
PATRIOTISM.
They love their land, because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why.
_Connecticut_. F-G. HALLECK.
No factious voice
Called them unto the field of generous fame,
But the pure consecrated love of home;
No deeper feeling sways us, when it wakes
In all its greatness.
_The Graves of the Patriots_. J.G. PERCIVAL.
The worst of rebels never arm
To do their king and country harm,
But draw their swords to do them good,
As doctors use, by letting blood.
_Hudibras_. S. BUTLER.
Hail! Independence, hail! Heaven's next best gift,
To that of life and an immortal soul!
_Liberty, Pt. V_.
J. THOMSON.
The inextinguishable spark, which fires
The soul of patriots.
_Leonidas_.
R. GLOVER.
I do love
My country's good with a respect more tender,
More holy and profound, than mine own life.
_Coriolanus, Act_ iii. _Sc_. 3.
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