Gifford; and what critic will
refuse to echo his exclamation? The same writer is full of monosyllabic
lines, and he is among the most energetic {306} of satirists. By the
way, it is not a little curious, that in George Webster's _White Devil,
or Vittoria Corombona_, almost the same thought is also clothed in two
monosyllabic lines:--
"His wealth is summed, and this is all his store:
This poor men get, and great men get no more."
Was Young dull? Listen, for it is indeed a "solemn sound:"--
"The bell strikes one. We take no note of time
Save by its loss, to give it then a tongue
Was wise in man."
Was Milton tame? Hear the "lost archangel" calling upon Hell to receive
its new possessor:--
"One who brings
A mind not to be chang'd by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in _itself_
Can make a heav'n of hell,--a hell of heav'n.
What _matter_ where, if I be still the same,
And what I should be; all but less than he
Whom _thunder_ hath made _greater_? Here at least
We shall be free; the _Almighty_ hath not built
Here for his _envy_; will not drive us hence:
Here we may reign _secure_; and in my choice
To reign is worth _ambition_, though in hell:
_Better_ to reign in hell, than serve in heav'n!"
A great conjunction of little words! Are monosyllables passionless?
Listen to the widowed Constance:--
"Thou mayst, thou shalt! I will not go with thee!
I will _instruct_ my _sorrows_ to be proud;
For grief is proud, and makes his _owner_ stout;
To me, and to the state of my great grief,
Let kings _assemble_; for my grief's so great,
That no _supporter_ but the huge firm earth
Can hold it up: here I and _sorrow_ sit;
Here is my throne: bid kings come bow to it.
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