English 120 Final

Two Traits of Satire

"Decorum": The accurate description of things according to their proper station in art and culture. "High" or lofty topics, for instance, require a "high" or elevated style. Equality: The treatment of all things, no matter their superficial differences, as fundamentally the same. Both kings and petty criminals, for instance, are thieves.

Tenets of Absolute Monarchy

"Divine right": the Monarch is directly appointed by God and rules as God on earth. Absolute power: the Monarch has power over the laws and constitution of the state, not the other way around. Preservation of the state: the Monarch must preserve the state by all means at his disposal. English Absolute Monarchs: Henry VIII, James I, Charles I

Tudor Iconoclasm

"Idolatry": The worship of an "idol," or false god. "Iconoclasm": The destruction of religious images or representations. 1538: Henry VIII commands the clergy that, "for avoiding that most detestable sin of idolatry," they must destroy images in churches. 1549:Edward VI orders that all "images of stone, timber, alabaster or earth" that stand in "any Church or Chapel" be "defaced and destroyed." 1559: Elizabeth I commands that "all pictures, paintings, and all other monuments . . . be removed, abolished, and destroyed."

The Theology of Martin Luther (1483-1546) and John Calvin (1509- 1564)

"Sola fide": This means "by faith alone." Salvation comes only from a person's faith in God, and so "good works" are irrelevant. Rejection of Saints, Relics, and Transubstantiation: The Eucharist is a symbol, with no physical power; saints and relics also have no physical power. No Free Will: You were saved only if God chose to to be saved, as one of the "elect."

Volta

"Volta" means "turn" in Italian, and it refers to the point, in a sonnet, where things shift in perspective, point of view, outlook, emotion, or result. Usually between the octave and sestet

William Wordsworth lifespan

1770-1850

God's Rule in Heaven in Paradise Lost

1. God on his throne: Seeing everything (past, present, and future) he curses man for disobeying him, but can do nothing, for he is absolutely just. 2. Christ intercedes: God is indeed absolutely just, but does he really want man to perish? 3. God agrees: He will allow man to be saved, if someone volunteers as a sacrifice to "pay back" man's betrayal. 4. Christ volunteers: God praises Christ, and commands the angels to praise him.

Thomas Wyatt lifespan

1503-1542

Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey lifespan

1516/1517-1547

The English Reformation

1527: Henry petitions Pope Clement VII for an annulment of his marriage to Catherine of Aragon; he is refused. Early 1530s: Henry passes acts in parliament—leading to the "Act of Supremacy" in 1534—that declare him head of the English Church. Late 1530s: Henry seizes control of church property in England, an event known as the "Dissolution of the Monasteries."

George Gascoigne lifespan

1535-1557

Edmund Spenser lifespan

1552-1599

Sir Philip Sidney lifespan

1554-1586

Christopher Marlowe lifespan

1564-1593

William Shakespeare lifespan

1564-1616

Ben Jonson lifespan

1572-1637

John Donne lifespan

1573-1631

Lady Mary Wroth lifespan

1587-1651

George Herbert lifespan

1593-1633

John Milton lifespan

1608-1647

Andrew Marvell lifespan

1621-1678

Timeline of the English Civil War

1630s: Resentment builds against Charles I, both because he governs without parliament and because he is hostile to Puritans and Presbyterians. 1641: Rebellion breaks out in Ireland. 1642: First military clashes. 1646: Charles I is captured. August 1649: Hostilities cease. January 1649: Charles I is executed. 1649-51: Residual conflict in Scotland and Ireland.

John Dryden lifespan

1631-1700

Jonathan Swift lifespan

1667-1745

Joseph Addison lifespan

1672-1719

Sir Richard Steele lifespan

1672-1729

Alexander Pope lifespan

1688-1744

Samuel Johnson lifespan

1709-1784

Thomas Gray lifespan

1716-1771

Oliver Goldsmith lifespan

1728-1774

James Boswell lifespan

1740-1795

As virtuous men pass mildly away, And whisper to their souls to go, Whilst some of their sad friends do say The breath goes now, and some say, No; So let us melt, and make no noise, No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move; 'Twere profanation° of our joys To tell the laity our love. Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears, Men reckon what it did and meant; But trepidation of the spheres, Though greater far, is innocent. Dull sublunary lovers' love (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit Absence, because it doth remove Those things which elemented° it. But we, by a love so much refined That ourselves know not what it is, Inter-assurèd of the mind, Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss. Our two souls therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to airy thinness beat. If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two; Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if th' other do. And though it in the center sit, Yet when the other far doth roam, It leans and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home. Such wilt thou be to me, who must, Like th' other foot, obliquely run; Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I begin.

A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning - John Donne. Starts with a deathbed scene as the conceit. compares what is happening in their relationship to the scene. It's a parting poem; he has to leave for something. Then he switches it; their love is different from ordinary love, they don't need to be in close proximity to each other. There isn't going to be a breach between their souls.

Petrarchan rhyme scheme

ABBA ABBA CDECDE

Spectator No. 11

About Inkle and Yarico. and about women. Inkle and Yarico fell in love when Inkle was adventuring the West Indies. But then Inkle was reflecting on the loss of time and money during his time with Yarico and sold her to a merchant even though she was pregnant with his child

The Rape of the Lock - author

Alexander Pope

The conceit

An extended and "complex" metaphor that serves as the "driving idea" behind a given poem. Thorny and logically complex, conceits often do not "resolve" or make perfect sense by the end of the poem. In Donne, the conceit is often "metaphysical"—that is, concerned with the relationship between soul and body.

"To his Coy Mistress" - author

Andrew Marvell

Periods of Literary History

Anglo-Saxon Period: ca. 600 - 1066 CE Later Middle Ages: 1066 - 1500 CE Early Modern Period: 1500 - 1660 CE Long Eighteenth Century: 1660 - 1800 CE

The Restoration

April 23, 1661: Charles II is crowned King of England. Early 1660s: opponents of Charles are pushed out of political office. 1673: The Test Act, which limits political office to Anglicans, is passed. 1670s: New political parties, the Whigs and Tories, spring up.

The Real Tintern Abbey

Built in 1131, but dissolved by Henry VIII in 1536. Surrounded by quarries and by an Ironworks mill (pictured at left). Ramshackle cottages surrounded the abbey, and vagrants lived in the midst of the abbey ruins. The roads around the area, and the River Wye, which ran by the abbey, were covered in litter and pollution, much of it produced by the nearby ironworks.

"On Gut" - author

Ben Jonson

"On My First Daughter" - author

Ben Jonson

"On My First Son" - author

Ben Jonson

"To my Book" - author

Ben Jonson

"To the Memory of My Beloved, The Author, Mr. William Shakespeare" - author

Ben Jonson

Galen's Four Humors

Blood: warm and wet, produces a "sanguine" personality—someone carefree, courageous, hopeful. Yellow Bile: warm and dry, produces a "choleric" personality— someone ambitious, hot-headed, leader-like. Black Bile: cold and dry, produces a "melancholic" personality— someone quiet, pensive, depressed. Phlegm: cold and wet, produces a "phlegmatic" personality—someone calm, patient, sluggish.

Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey

Born 1516-17, died 1547. Father was the Duke of Suffolk; related by blood (first cousins) to Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, the second and fifth wives of Henry VIII. Invented the English or "Shakespearean" form of the sonnet. Executed for suspected treason by Henry VIII on 19 January 1547.

William Shakespeare

Born to a middle class family in Stratford- Upon-Avon: his father an alderman, his mother the daughter of a farmer. Studied at Stratford grammar schools. Married Anne Hathaway in 1582. Working in London theatre scene by the early 1590s; he writes most of his famous tragedies and comedies, such as Hamlet and As You Like it, between 1595 and 1605. The Sonnets are published in 1609; the "First Folio" is published, after Shakespeare's death, in 1623.

George Herbert

Born to a prominent Welsh family; his father was a Member of Parliament. He studied at Cambridge from 1609-1616; soon afterwards, in 1620, he became the University Orator because of his command of Latin and Greek. He became a Member of Parliament in 1624, but changed paths and pursued a career in the church instead of one at court. He was ordained as an Anglican Priest in 1628. His only collection of poems, The Temple, was published posthumously in 1633. Some poems in the shape of the topic

John Donne

Born to prominent London family of recusant (or secret) Catholics; his mother was the great-niece of Thomas More. Studied at Oxford and Cambridge from 1583-86 and 1586-89, then attended law school and was called to the bar in 1592. Traveled for much of the 1590s; fought with Sir Walter Ralegh at Cadiz. Married Anne More secretly in 1601; the marriage ruined his diplomatic career. His wife died in 1617. Ordained to the Church of England in 1615; became Dean of St Paul's in 1621.

Joseph Addison and Sir Richard Steele

Both grew up together in London and were friends as schoolboys; both attended Oxford; and both worked on the London literary circuit as critics and playwrights. Together, they wrote the Tatler (1709-11) and the Spectator (1711- 12), the first magazines, which were widely imitated.

Doctor Faustus - author

Christopher Marlowe

The Structure of Gulliver's Travels

Contrast no. 1: Lilliput and Brobdingnag, the very small and the very large (Books 1-2). Interlude: Laputa and Science (Book 3). Contrast no. 2: The Yahoos and the Houhynhyms, reason and the passions, man and animal (Book 4).

Divers doth use, as I have heard and know, When that to change their ladies do begin, To mourn and wail, and never for to lin, Hoping thereby to pease their painful woe. And some there be, that when it chanceth so That women change and hate where love hath been, They call them false and think with words to win The hearts of them which otherwhere doth grow. But as for me, though that by chance indeed Change hath outworn the favor that I had, I will not wail, lament, nor yet be sad, Nor call her false that falsely did me feed, But let it pass, and think it is of kind That often change doth please a woman's mind.

Divers Doth Use - Thomas Wyatt

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store, Though foolishly he lost the same, Decaying more and more, Till he became Most poore: With thee O let me rise As larks, harmoniously, And sing this day thy victories: Then shall the fall further the flight in me. My tender age in sorrow did beginne And still with sicknesses and shame. Thou didst so punish sinne, That I became Most thinne. With thee Let me combine, And feel thy victorie: For, if I imp my wing on thine, Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

Easter Wings - George Herbert. in the shape of wings.

The Faerie Queene - author

Edmund Spenser

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard - Thomas Gray. We're all going to die. all the pomp amounts to nothing, it's stupid. the rich are no more important than the poor.

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown. Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heav'n did a recompense as largely send: He gave to Mis'ry all he had, a tear, He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose) The bosom of his Father and his God.

Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard - Thomas Gray. represents pretty much everyone (also representative partly of Gray)

The Genres of the Faerie Queene

Epic, Romance, Allegory

The Industrial Revolution in the Eighteenth Century

Factories: Used the division of labor to manufacture products en masse; invested in more and more powerful machinery to improve efficiency. Capitalist Farms: Capitalist farmers increasingly bought up the land of local farmers, and used new technologies of automation to work their estates on an efficient and large scale.

Doctor Faustus Characters

Faustus, Mephastophilis, Lucifer, Valdes and Cornelius, Wagner(servant) and his clown Robin

Sentimentalism in the Eighteenth Century

Feeling, not reason: Actions and behavior should come not from reason, but from feelings and emotions. "Moral Sense": "Moral sense" theory in philosophy—the philosophical argument that we know what's right and what's wrong from that feeling "in our gut." Contrast with rationalism: Instead of cultivating reason, you should cultivate your sensibilities—your "fine feelings." Empathy: You should feel kinship with your "fellow man."

Empiricism in Philosophy

Figures: Key representatives of Empiricism included John Locke (1632- 1704) and David Hume (1711-76). Induction: Emphasis on the need for induction as opposed to deduction as a philosophical method. Experimentation: Uses experiments, surveys, and even measurements to determine the nature of the world. Sense Experience: Knowledge comes from sensory experience and physical evidence—not from reason alone.

"Gascoigne's Woodsmanship" - author

George Gascoigne

"Easter Wings" - author

George Herbert

"Jordan (1)" - author

George Herbert

"The Altar" - author

George Herbert

"The Pulley" - author

George Herbert

"The Windows" - author

George Herbert

The Periodical Essay

Gossip: The periodical is designed to keep you up to date on the goings-on about town, to be read as part of your morning ritual, or "tea- equipage." Amusement: It provides those who like to watch people a chance to "look upon the rest of mankind." Education: It provides its readers with an education on those topics that they don't know much about for themselves.

Edmund Spenser

Grew up in London, perhaps the son of a clothmaker; attended the Merchant Taylor's School, one of the finest in London (other literary alumni included Robert Herrick, Thomas Kyd, John Webster). Attended Cambridge as a sizar, or work- study student, from 1569 to 1573. His duties included waiting tables. Served as a colonial bureaucrat in Ireland from 1580-96, and was complicit in brutal English policy towards the Irish. During his time in Ireland composed The Faerie Queene (1590-96) and other short poetry.

William Wordsworth

Grew up in the Lake District, in Northern England, the son of a lawyer. Attended Cambridge 1787-91, where he met and befriended the poet and critic Samuel Taylor Coleridge. After traveling in France during the early 1790s, and living near Coleridge in Wales, settled in the Lake District again in 1799, where he would live for the rest of his career. The most important Romantic poet, his key book was Lyrical Ballads (1798). Wrote "Tintern Abbey" in 1798.

He first took my altitude by a quadrant, and then, with rule and compasses, described the dimensions and outlines of my whole body; all which he entered upon paper, and in six days brought my clothes very ill made, and quite out of shape, by happening to mistake a figure in the calculation. But my comfort was, that I observed such accidents very frequent, and little regarded.

Gulliver's Travels - Jonathan Swift. The scientific method gone wrong

Because the reader may be curious to have some idea of the style and manner of expression peculiar to that people, as well as to know the article upon which I recovered my liberty, I have made a translation of the whole instrument, word for word . . . [. . .] [F]or above seventy moons past, there have been two struggling parties in the empire, under the names of Tramecksan and Slamecksan, from the high and low heels on their shoes . . .

Gulliver's Travels 1.4 - Jonathan Swift. Recognition - where everything turns and recognize something. arbitrary differences between political parties

I then had the honour to be a Nardac, which the treasurer himself is not; for all the world knows, that he is only a Clumglum, a title inferior by one degree . . . yet I allow he preceded me in right of his post. [. . .] The next day the wagoners arrived with it, but not in a very good condition; they had bored two holes in the brim, within an inch and a half of the edge, and fastened two hooks in the holes; these hooks were tied by a long cord to the harness, and thus my hat was dragged along with above half an English mile . . .

Gulliver's Travels 1.6 and 1.3 - Jonathan Swift. shows how arbitrary titles are. shows hat in comparison to the tiny people

We directed him to draw out whatever was at the end of that chain; which appeared to be a globe, half silver, and half of some transparent metal; for, on the transparent side, we saw certain strange figures circularly drawn, and though we could touch them, till we found our fingers stopped by the lucid substance. He put this engine into our ears, which made an incessant noise, like that of a water-mill: and we conjecture it is either some unknown animal, or the god that he worships; but we are more inclined to the latter opinion, because he assured us, (if we understood him right, for he expressed himself very imperfectly) that he seldom did any thing without consulting it.

Gulliver's Travels Part 1 Chapter 2 - Jonathan Swift. Defamiliarization. Recognition. Describing a pocket watch in defamiliarized terms. Satirical. neither an animal or god that he worships. however, in a way, it kind of is a god he worships

Many hundred large volumes have been published upon this controversy: but the books of the Big-endians have been long forbidden, and the whole party rendered incapable by law of holding employments. During the course of these troubles, the emperors of Blefusca did frequently expostulate by their ambassadors, accusing us of making a schism in religion, by offending against a fundamental doctrine of our great prophet Lustrog, in the fifty-fourth chapter of the Blundecral (which is their Al-coran). This, however, is thought to be a mere strain upon the text; for the words are these: 'that all true believers break their eggs at the convenient end.'

Gulliver's travels 1.4 - Jonathan Swift. All true believers break their eggs at the convenient end. whichever end you like. against great social differences for no reason

Theological Use of Allegory

Harmony: Allowed theologians to claim that the New and Old Testaments were "in harmony" with each other, even when their literal sense was different. Teaching: Allegory was a useful teaching tool, since it presented complex ideas in simpler terms. Aesthetics: Many allegorical interpretations were poetic and even moving to their readers.

"Love, that Doth Reign and Live Within my Thought" - author

Henry Howard

"The soote season" - author

Henry Howard

Reigns of Sixteenth-Century Tudor Monarchs

Henry VII: 1485-1509 Henry VIII: 1509-1547 Edward VI: 1547-1553 Mary I: 1553-1558 Elizabeth I: 1558-1603

Alexander Pope

His family was Catholic: his father was a wealthy linen merchant, his mother from an artistic family. He was sickly: bone tuberculosis stopped him from growing more than four and a half feet tall. Became famous early with his Pastorals (1709); wrote the Rape of the Lock in 1712 (revised 1714). Translated Homer for money; edited Shakespeare. Worked for the Tories in politics.

Thomas Gray

His father was a scrivener—a bookseller and notary; his mother was a milliner, a hat-maker. Gray attended high school at Eton College, in Windsor, and then went to Cambridge, where he studied from 1734 and later became a Professor of Classics. Began to write poems seriously in 1742, and although he published very little (in total less than one thousand lines), he was respected by his contemporaries. Finished the "Eton" ode in 1742; finished the "Elegy" in 1750.

John Dryden

Member of a prominent Puritan family who supported the Parliamentarians in the English Civil War (i.e., Cromwell). Studied at the Westminster School (1644- 50) and Cambridge (1650-54). Switched sides to the royalists when Restoration occurred (1660). Wrote for theatre and publication during 1660s; poet laureate in 1668. Known for satire: Mac Flecknoe (1678) and Absalom and Achitophel (1681).

Sir Philip Sidney

Member of the prominent Sidney family (his sister would become a countess, his brother an earl). Traveled widely across Europe in the mid 1570s. Fell in love with Penelope Devereux at court in the early 1580s; she was married instead to Robert Rich in 1581. Composed the Old Arcadia, Astrophel and Stella, and the Defence of Poesy by 1583. Wounded in action at the Battle of Zutphen, in Holland, in 1586; he later died from his wound. Uses lots of extended metaphors

from The Life of Samuel Johnson, LLD - author

James Boswell

"A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" - author

John Donne

"The Canonization" - author

John Donne

"The Ecstasy" - author

John Donne

"The Flea" - author

John Donne

"The Good-Morrow" - author

John Donne

"The Relic" - author

John Donne

"The Sun Rising" - author

John Donne

"Mac Flecknoe" - author

John Dryden

Paradise Lost - author

John Milton

Gulliver's Travels - author

Jonathan Swift

Who says that fictions only and false hair Become a verse? Is there in truth no beauty? Is all good structure in a winding stair? May no lines pass, except they do their duty Not to a true, but painted chair? Is it no verse, except enchanted groves And sudden arbours shadow coarse-spun lines? Must purling streams refresh a lover's loves? Must all be veil'd, while he that reads, divines, Catching the sense at two removes? Shepherds are honest people; let them sing; Riddle who list, for me, and pull for prime; I envy no man's nightingale or spring; Nor let them punish me with loss of rhyme, Who plainly say, my God, my King.

Jordan (1) - George Herbert

The Spectator - authors

Joseph Addison and Richard Steele

Love that doth reign and live within my thought And built his seat within my captive breast, Clad in arms wherein with me he fought, Oft in my face he doth his banner rest. But she that taught me love and suffer pain, My doubtful hope and eke my hot desire With shamefaced look to shadow and refrain, Her smiling grace converteth straight to ire. And coward Love, then, to the heart apace Taketh his flight, where he doth lurk and 'plain, His purpose lost, and dare not show his face. For my lord's guilt thus faultless bide I pain, Yet from my lord shall not my foot remove, Sweet is the death that taketh end by love.

Love, that Doth Reign and Live Within My Thought - Henry Howard

In his sinister hand, instead of Ball, He plac'd a mighty Mug of potent Ale; Love's Kingdom to his right he did convey, At once his Sceptre and his rule of Sway; Whose righteous Lore the Prince had practis'd young, And from whose Loyns recorded Psyche sprung, His Temples last with Poppies were o'er spread, That nodding seem'd to consecrate his head: Just at that point of time, if Fame not lye, On his left hand twelve reverend Owls did fly.

Mac Flecknoe - John Dryden. Engaging in burlesque. Instead of a crown, poppies (can be used to make opium and apparently Shadwell had a bit of an opium issue).

. . . thy gentle numbers feebly creep, Thy Tragick Muse gives smiles, thy Comick sleep. With whate'er gall thou sett'st thy self to write, Thy inoffensive Satyrs never bite. In thy felonious heart, though Venom lies, It does but touch thy Irish pen, and dyes. Thy Genius calls thee not to purchase fame In keen Iambicks, but mild Anagram: Leave writing Plays, and choose for thy command Some peaceful Province in Acrostick Land. There thou maist wings display and Altars raise, And torture one poor word Ten thousand ways.

Mac Flecknoe - John Dryden. Nonsense: giving a word multiple meanings that you can never sort out. Rhyming. End-stopping (no enjambment): sentences spill over lines. Dryden uses enjambment: doesn't like messiness. believes it should be easy for you to understand

All human things are subject to decay, And, when Fate summons, Monarchs must obey: This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young Was call'd to Empire, and had govern'd long: In Prose and Verse, was own'd, without dispute Through all the Realms of Non-sense, absolute.

Mac Flecknoe - John Dryden. They don't know how to fit things together and they're not funny or clever (Flecknoe and Shadwell). He's dying, so he must find a successor to continue his bad poetry. He's in charge of the Realm of Nonsense (not witty; dull)

Success let other teach: learn thou from me Pangs without birth, and fruitless industry. [. . .] No Persian Carpets spread th'imperial way, But scatter'd limbs of mangled poets lay: From dusty shops neglected authors come, Martyrs of Pies, and Reliques of the Bum. Much Heywood, Shirly, Ogleby there lay, But loads of Sh—— almost choakt the way.

Mac Flecknoe - John Dryden. Writing is like giving birth, but with them, it's just pain, no birth. If the books were so bad that no one would buy them, publishers would sell it as toilet paper (Reliques of the Bum)

from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus poems - author

Mary Wroth

Timeline of English Commonwealth

May 1649: English Commonwealth proclaimed; England to be governed "by the supreame Authoritie of this Nation, the Representatives of the People in Parliament. . ." 1649-51: Cromwell puts down rebellions in Ireland and Scotland. 1653: The Protectorate is established; Cromwell officially proclaimed "Lord Protector" for life. September 1658: Cromwell dies. 1660: The "Restoration" of Charles II; reinstatement of English monarchy.

Difference between Books 1-3 of Paradise Lost and Book 9

Milton goes blind and he's very interested in internality. Shifts from exterior matters to interior. Less politics/public matter. separation of mind and soul

Early modern careers

Mostly limited to men The Law Medicine The Clergy The Court

My galley charged with forgetfulness Thorough sharp seas, in winter nights doth pass 'Tween rock and rock; and eke mine enemy, alas, That is my lord, steereth with cruelness; And every oar a thought in readiness, As though that death were light in such a case. An endless wind doth tear the sail apace Of forced sighs and trusty fearfulness. A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain, Hath done the wearied cords great hinderance; Wreathed with error and eke with ignoraunce. The stars be hid that led me to this pain. Drowned is reason that should me consort, And I remain despairing of the port.

My Galley - Thomas Wyatt

The Financial Revolution

New Financial Instruments: Bonds and stocks are issued after the Bank of England is formed in 1694. Joint-Stock Companies: The East India Company and the South Sea Company are traded in London even while they transport commodities, such as cotton, sugar, slaves, and indigo, between India, Britain, and the New World. Stock Market: Securities were traded (i.e. bought and sold) in "Exchange Alley," near today's Lombard Street, in London.

Print Culture in Pope's Time

New modes of book consumption: Publishers began to sell to subscriber lists, to sell via the post and sale catalogues, and directly via retail. Newspapers and periodicals: New journals and new newspapers, like the one at left, began to spring up. Grub Street: Hack writers took up residence in London and tried to make a living with their pens. Used book shops: The used book trade expanded rapidly.

Ah, happy hills, ah, pleasing shade, Ah, fields belov'd in vain, Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales, that from ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.

Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College - Thomas Gray. second spring - rejuvenated, reborn. nostalgic

Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond today: Yet see how all around 'em wait The ministers of human fate, And black Misfortune's baleful train! Ah, show them where in ambush stand To seize their prey the murderous band! Ah, tell them they are men! [. . .] No more; where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.

Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College - Thomas Gray. victims of the experience of being human - universal experience. it's inherent to who the children are.

Ben Jonson

Of middle class stock: he was the stepson of a London bricklayer. Received a good education and wanted to go to Cambridge, but was apprenticed instead. Fought in Holland in the 1580s. Marries in early 1590s. Working in the theatre by the mid-1590s; writes plays such as Volpone and Every Man in his Humor. Publishes The Works of Ben Jonson in 1616 Poetic immortality

"The Deserted Village" - author

Oliver Goldsmith

Gut eats all day, and lechers all the night, So all his meat he tasteth over twice; And striving so to double his delight, He makes himself a thoroughfare of vice. Thus in his belly can he change a sin: Lust it comes out, that gluttony went in.

On Gut - Ben Jonson

Here lies, to each her parents' ruth, Mary, the daughter of their youth; Yet all heaven's gifts being heaven's due, It makes the father less to rue. At six months' end she parted hence With safety of her innocence; Whose soul heaven's queen, whose name she bears, In comfort of her mother's tears, Hath placed amongst her virgin-train: Where, while that severed doth remain, This grave partakes the fleshly birth; Which cover lightly, gentle earth!

On My First Daughter - Ben Jonson

Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy; My sin was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy. Seven years tho' wert lent to me, and I thee pay, Exacted by thy fate, on the just day. O, could I lose all father now! For why Will man lament the state he should envy? To have so soon 'scap'd world's and flesh's rage, And if no other misery, yet age? Rest in soft peace, and, ask'd, say, "Here doth lie Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry." For whose sake henceforth all his vows be such, As what he loves may never like too much.

On My First Son - Ben Jonson. He's better at making a kid than making poetry. His son was more important. He fears having to lose something like his son again

. . . Farewell happy fields Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell Receive thy new possessor: one who brings A mind not to be changed 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.

Paradise Lost Book 1 - John Milton

Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world, and all our woe, With loss of Eden, till one greater man Restore us, and regain the blissful seat, Sing Heav'nly Muse. . . . . . say first what cause Mov'd our Grand Parents in that happy State, Favour'd of Heav'n so highly, to fall off From their Creator, and transgress his Will For one restraint, Lords of the World besides? Who first seduc'd them to that fowl revolt? Th' infernal Serpent; he it was . . .

Paradise Lost Book 1 - John Milton. Why would God allow all of this? To understand good, you must also know evil

Whether of open Warr or covert guile, We now debate; who can advise, may speak. The bold design Pleas'd highly those infernal States, and joy Sparkl'd in all thir eyes; with full assent They vote: whereat his speech he thus renews. [E]xpectation held His look suspence, awaiting who appeer'd To second, or oppose, or undertake The perilous attempt.

Paradise Lost Book 2 - John Milton. Demonic Parliament

. . . Suppose he should relent And publish grace to all, on promise made Of new subjection; with what eyes could we Stand in his presence humble, and receive Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing Forced hallelujahs, while he lordly sits Our envied sovereign, and his altar breathes Ambrosial odours and ambrosial flowers, Our servile offerings?

Paradise Lost Book 2 - John Milton. Mammon speaking. Supposedly no one in charge to make decisions. There's no freedom, it's compelled. Symbolizes the devils are not number one.

Me though just right, and the fixed Laws of Heav'n Did first create your Leader, next, free choice, With what besides, in Counsel or in Fight, Hath been achieved of merit, yet this loss Thus far at least recovered, hath much more Established in a safe unenvied Throne Yielded with full consent.

Paradise Lost Book 2 - John Milton. Satan speaking. Supposedly democratic, and yet Satan sits on a throne and has somehow appointed himself speaker/head of the Parliament. "No one really wants to be leader, so I will". Devils aren't just, why would heaven decree something in Hell, merit?, a devil? "free choice" although it wasn't

So much the rather thou, celestial Light, Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers Irradiate; there plant eyes, all mist from thence Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell Of things invisible to mortal sight.

Paradise Lost Book 3 - John Milton

Then crowned again their golden harps they took, Harps ever tuned, that glittering by their side Like Quivers hung, and with Preamble sweet Of charming symphony they introduce Their sacred Song, and waken raptures high; No voice exempt, no voice but well could join Melodious part, such concord is in Heaven.

Paradise Lost Book 3 - John Milton. Concord = harmony

If the censure of the Yahoos could any way affect me, I should have great reason to complain, that some of them are so bold as to think my book of travels a mere fiction out of mine own brain, and have gone so far as to drop hints, that the Houyhnhnms and Yahoos have no more existence than the inhabitants of Utopiia.

Prefatory Letter to the Reader - Gulliver's Travels - Jonathan Swift. Structure of the story as a travel narrative allows Swift to claim everything Gulliver writes is true.

For man will hearken to his glozing lies, And easily transgress the sole Command, Sole pledge of his obedience: So will fall, He and his faithless progeny: whose fault? Whose but his own? Ingrate! He had of me All he could have; I made him just and right, Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall. Such I created all the ethereal Powers And Spirits, both them who stood and them who failed; Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell.

Paradise Lost Book 3 - John Milton. God knows Adam and Eve will fall. It's their fault completely. You need to be lied to to know when someone else is lying to you.

. . . each the other viewing, Soon found their eyes how opened, and their minds How darkened; innocence, that as a veil Had shadowed them from knowing ill, was gone; Just confidence, and native righteousness, And honour, from about them, naked left To guilty shame; he covered, but his robe Uncovered more.

Paradise Lost Book 9 - John Milton. Adam and Eve feel shame. they can't think and feel the way they could about things before.

Thy praise he also, who forbids thy use, Conceals not from us, naming thee the Tree Of Knowledge, knowledge both of good and evil— Forbids us, then, to taste, but his forbidding Commends thee more, while it infers the good By thee communicated, and our want. For good unknown sure is not had—or, had And yet unknown, is as not had at all. In plain then, what forbids he but to know, Forbids us good, forbids us to be wise? Such prohibitions bind not. But, if death Bind us with after-bands, what profits then Our inward freedom? In the day we eat Of this fair fruit, our doom is, we shall die.

Paradise Lost Book 9 - John Milton. Eve deliberating eating the fruit. Knowledge is a good thing. Want = lack. Why might God be forbidding us? the good stuff is just for him. Something keeps her from doing it still - she's afraid she's going to die. "for good unknown" - turning point.

. . . within himself The danger lies, yet lies within his power: Against his will he can receive no harm. But God left free the will; for what obeys Reason, is free; and Reason he made right, But bid her well be ware, and still erect; Lest, by some fair-appearing good surprised, She dictate false; and misinform the will To do what God expressly hath forbid.

Paradise Lost Book 9 - John Milton. It's Eve's will and her rationality that Satan is trying to manipulate. Adam is speaking

. . . the evil one abstracted stood From his own evil, and for the time remained Stupidly good; of enmity disarmed, Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge: But the hot Hell that always in him burns, Though in mid Heaven, soon ended his delight, And tortures him now more, the more he sees Of pleasure, not for him ordained: then soon Fierce hate he recollects, and all his thoughts Of mischief, gratulating,° thus excites

Paradise Lost Book 9 - John Milton. Satan's reaction to Eve. being dragged out of himself, stupidly good. Eve is really beautiful, virtuous, good. If Satan who is evil can be knocked back to good for even a moment, so can you. Satan kind of mirrors Eve - ignorance is bliss

They sat them down to weep; nor only tears Rained at their eyes, but high winds worse within Began to rise, high passions, anger, hate, Mistrust, suspicion, discord; and shook sore Their inward state of mind, calm region once And full of peace, now tost and turbulent: For Understanding ruled not, and the Will Heard not her lore; both in subjection now To sensual Appetite, who from beneath Usurping over sov'reign Reason claimed Superiour sway . . .

Paradise Lost Book 9 - John Milton. Your mental chaos comes from Adam and Eve's decision

. . . what in me is dark Illumine, what is low raise and support, That to the height of this great argument I may assert eternal providence, And justify the ways of God to men.

Paradise Lost Book One - John Milton

He trusted to have equalled the most High, If he opposed, and with ambitious aim Against the Throne and Monarchy of God Rais'd impious War in Heav'n and Battel proud With vain attempt.

Paradise Lost Book One - John Milton. Can anyone equal the most high? No.

. . . he above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent Stood like a tower; his form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appear'd Less then archangel ruined, and th' excess Of glory obscur'd: As when the sun new ris'n Looks through the horizontal misty air Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon In dim eclipse disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.

Paradise Lost Book One - John Milton. Description of Satan. Simile of solar eclipse to Satan; center is dark, but there is amazing, powerful light around the edges. He's beautiful even though he's no longer an angel.

. . . Here at least We shall be free; th' 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, then serve in Heaven.

Paradise Lost Book One - John Milton. Like the disaster that befalls the commonwealth. It's better here because at least we're free. Milton really hated kings. He was an anti-trinitarian.

What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable Will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield: And what is else not to be overcome? That Glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from me.

Paradise Lost Book One - John Milton. Milton may admire this desire for revenge. Rationalizing why it's ok he's been sent down. God is never going to break his spirit. Connects to how he characterizes Cromwell in Second Defense of the English people. about Cromwell's will. just like Satan, he refuses to be taken down by external forces.

. . . round he throws his baleful eyes That witness'd huge affliction and dismay Mixt with obdurate pride and steadfast hate: At once as far as Angels ken° he views The dismal situation waste and wilde, A dungeon horrible, on all sides round As one great furnace flam'd, yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe.

Paradise Lost Book One - John Milton. Satan has fallen to Hell into the burning lake and is chained down. Milton was blind, so this is what Satan sees, but worse, actually sees, but just blackness, and the worst things even though there is no light.

Philosophy and Science in Swift's Time

Rationalism: Reason, and the conclusions produced by reason, are the chief source and ultimate test of all knowledge. Popularized by René Descartes. Empiricism: All knowledge comes only, or primarily, from sensory experience. Popularized by John Locke and the thinkers of the Royal Academy.

Now had the Almighty Father from above, From the pure Empyrean where he sits High Throned above all height, bent down his eye, His own works and their works at once to view: About him all the Sanctities of Heaven Stood thick as stars, and from his sight receiv'd Beatitude past utterance; on his right The radiant image of his Glory sat, His only Son; On Earth he first beheld Our two first Parents, yet the only two Of mankind, in the happy Garden placed, Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love, Uninterrupted joy, unrivaled love In blissful solitude . . . . . . he then survey'd Hell and the Gulf between, and Satan there Coasting the wall of Heav'n on this side Night In the dun Air sublime, and ready now To stoop with wearied wings, and willing feet On the bare outside of this World, that seemed Firm land imbosom'd without Firmament, Uncertain which, in Ocean or in Air. Him God beholding from his prospect high, Wherein past, present, future he beholds, Thus to his only Son foreseeing spoke.

Paradise Lost Book Three - John Milton. Giving an idea of what God sees. He's allowing Satan to go. Sees all of time at once and sees things from more than just his eyes.

[A]t once with him they rose; Thir rising all at once was as the sound Of Thunder heard remote. Towards him they bend With awful reverence prone; and as a God Extoll him equal to the highest in Heav'n.

Paradise Lost Book Two - John Milton. just reinstated what they tried to overthrow. "ruling as a God" - perverse to Milton

Jonathan Swift

Parents were English Anglicans who had fled to Ireland during the Civil War. Raised by his uncle Godwin; attended Kilkenny College and then Trinity College Dublin (B.A. 1686). Began to write satire, initially on the side of the Whigs, in early 1700s; this included A Tale of a Tub and The Battle of the Books (1704). Switched sides to the Tories in 1710; but was pushed out of politics when the Whigs came back to power in 1714. Wrote Gulliver's Travels while living in Ireland in 1726.

from Astrophil and Stella poems - author

Philip Sidney

James Boswell

Raised in Edinburgh, Scotland, where his father was a prominent judge and aristocrat. Attended university of Edinburgh from 1753 to 1758; took the bar exam in 1762 and became a lawyer. Met Johnson on May 16, 1763, for the first time, and over the course of the next ten years or so, spent roughly one month per year in Johnson's company in London. Wrote travel books and biographies, including The Life of Samuel Johnson (1791). About that empiricism shit

Oliver Goldsmith

Raised in Ireland, where his father was an Anglican minister. Attended Trinity College Dublin from 1744 until 1749; he was a poor student, and was expelled once. Traveled and studied to be a doctor in the 1750s before settling in London in 1756 and starting to write. A friend of Johnson's, he was often short on money because of a dissolute lifestyle. Wrote several works over the years, including "The Deserted Village" (1770).

Lady Mary Wroth

Related to the Sidney family: she was the niece both of Philip Sidney and his sister, Mary Sidney. A close friend of Queen Anne, the wife of James I of England, during the early 1600s. Married Robert Wroth in 1604. Began an affair with William Herbert in 1614, after Robert Wroth's death. Wrote Pamphilius to Amphilanthus in 1621; it was a succès de scandale, since it alluded in veiled terms to her life at court. Lyric Self-Destruction

All joy or sorrow for the happiness or calamities of others is produced by an act of the imagination, that realizes the event however fictitious, or approximates it however remote, by placing us, for a time, in the condition of him whose fortunes we contemplate; so that we feel, while the deception lasts, whatever emotions would be excited by the same good or evil happening to ourselves.

Rambler No. 60 - Samuel Johnson

[T]here is such a uniformity in the state of man, considered apart from adventitious and separable decorations and disguises, that there is scarce any possibility of good or ill but is common to human kind. A great part of the time of those who are placed at the greatest distance by fortune or by temper must unavoidably pass in the same manner; and though, when the claims of nature are satisfied, caprice and vanity and accident begin to produce discriminations and peculiarities, yet the eye is not very heedful or quick which cannot discover the same causes still terminating their influence in the same effect, though sometimes accelerated, sometimes retarded, or perplexed by multiplied combinations. We are all prompted by the same motives, all deceived by the same fallacies, all animated by hope, obstructed by danger, entangled by desire, and seduced by pleasure.

Rambler No. 60 - Samuel Johnson. All humans have the same feelings, passions, motives. Different because of our different surroundings and environments. also links morality to being able to feel

[N]o species of writing seems more worthy of cultivation than biography, since none can be more delightful or more useful, none can more certainly enchain the heart by irresistible interest, or more widely diffuse instruction to every diversity of condition. The general and rapid narratives of history, which involve a thousand fortunes in the business of a day, and complicate innumerable incidents in one great transaction, afford few lessons applicable to private life, which derives its comforts and its wretchedness from the right or wrong management of things, which nothing but their frequency makes considerable.

Rambler No. 60 - Samuel Johnson. about biographies

What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trivial things, I sing. . .

Rape of the Lock - Canto 1 - Alexander Pope Epic genre of poetry - about trivial things - often called a mock epic

The Idler - author

Samuel Johnson

The Rambler - author

Samuel Johnson

In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn, But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing; In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn, In vowing new hate after new love bearing: But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee, When I break twenty? I am perjured most; For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee, And all my honest faith in thee is lost: For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness, Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy; And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness, Or made them swear against the thing they see; For I have sworn thee fair; more perjured eye, To swear against the truth so foul a lie.

Shakespeare

In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; But now is black beauty's successive heir, And beauty slandered with a bastard shame: For since each hand hath put on Nature's power, Fairing the foul with Art's false borrowed face, Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower, But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace. Therefore my mistress' eyes are raven black, Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack, Sland'ring creation with a false esteem: Yet so they mourn becoming of their woe, That every tongue says beauty should look so.

Shakespeare

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.

Shakespeare

Let not my love be called idolatry, Nor my beloved as an idol show, Since all alike my songs and praises be To one, of one, still such, and ever so. Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind, Still constant in a wondrous excellence; Therefore my verse to constancy confined, One thing expressing, leaves out difference. Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument, Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words; And in this change is my invention spent, Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords. Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone, Which three till now, never kept seat in one.

Shakespeare

Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

Shakespeare

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress when she walks treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.

Shakespeare

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; Who hast by waning grown, and therein showest Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self growest. If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack, As thou goest onwards still will pluck thee back, She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill. Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure! She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure: Her audit (though delayed) answered must be, And her quietus is to render thee.

Shakespeare

SONNETS - author

Shakespeare

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower? O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out Against the wrackful siege of batt'ring days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays? O fearful meditation! where, alack, Shall time's best jewel from time's chest lie hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? O, none, unless this miracle have might, That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

Shakespeare

So shall I live, supposing thou art true, Like a deceived husband; so love's face May still seem love to me, though altered new; Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place: For there can live no hatred in thine eye, Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. In many's looks, the false heart's history Is writ in moods, and frowns, and wrinkles strange. But heaven in thy creation did decree That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; Whate'er thy thoughts, or thy heart's workings be, Thy looks should nothing thence, but sweetness tell. How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show!

Shakespeare

Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action; and till action, lust Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody, full of blame, Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd straight, Past reason hunted; and, no sooner had Past reason hated as a swallowed bait On purpose laid to make the taker mad; Mad in pursuit and in possession so, Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof and proved, a very woe; Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream. All this the world well knows; yet none knows well To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

Shakespeare

That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by. This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Shakespeare

When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutored youth, Unlearnèd in the world's false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue: On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed. But wherefore says she not she is unjust? And wherefore say not I that I am old? Oh, love's best habit is in seeming trust, And age in love loves not to have years told. Therefore I lie with her and she with me, And in our faults by lies we flattered be.

Shakespeare

Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will, And Will to boot, and Will in overplus; More than enough am I that vex thee still, To thy sweet will making addition thus. Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious, Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine? Shall will in others seem right gracious, And in my will no fair acceptance shine? The sea, all water, yet receives rain still, And in abundance addeth to his store; So thou being rich in Will add to thy Will One will of mine, to make thy large Will more. Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill; Think all but one, and me in that one Will.

Shakespeare

From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty's rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decrease, His tender heir might bear his memory; But thou, contracted° to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament And only° herald to the gaudy spring, Within thine own bud buriest thy content° And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding.° Pity the world, or else this glutton be, To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.

Shakespeare Sonnet. They can't reproduce because they're of the same sex, so he's telling him to go have sex with other people so that his face will live on

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, (Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

Shakespeare sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed, And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed: But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st, So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Shakespeare sonnet. He has written his love into a poem and they will therefore never fade or die. As long as men can breathe to read the poem out loud or have eyes to see the poem, they will live on

Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest Now is the time that face should form another; Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. For where is she so fair whose uneared womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry? Or who is he so fond will be the tomb Of his self-love, to stop posterity? Thou art thy mother's glass and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime; So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time. But if thou live, remembered not to be, Die single and thine image dies with thee.

Shakespeare sonnet. If you die alone, without reproducing, your face and legacy die with you.

Not marble nor the gilded monuments Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme, But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone besmeared with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory. 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom. So, till the Judgement that yourself arise, You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.

Shakespeare sonnet. speaks about the destruction of monasteries and monuments

Despair's Literal Arguments

Sin: Sin is permanent. Once you have sinned, you are a sinner forever. Free will: God ordains our fates for us. We act out what he pre-ordains, and so die when he chooses us to die. Salvation: You are saved or damned by the grace of God alone. If you are damned, the longer you live, the worse your punishment in Hell may be, since you will continue to sin. The Law: God is absolutely just, and so offers sinners no mercy, but punishes them with a fair hand.

George Gascoigne

Son of Sir John Gascoigne, of Bedfordshire (just north of London) At Cambridge in the early 1550s, at Gray's Inn (a law school in London) by 1555. Evidently lived a wild life, since he was often imprisoned for debt during the 1560s and 1570s. Fought in Holland in 1572. Composed The Adventures of Master FJ and a collection of poems, A Hundreth Sundrie Flowers, in the early 1570s. Lyric Self-Destruction

John Milton

Son of a wealthy scrivener, or notary. Studied at St Paul's School, London, and then at Cambridge, from 1625-32. Studied privately (he knew Latin, Greek, Hebrew, French, Spanish, and Italian) and traveled during the 1630s. Secretary for Foreign Tongues under Cromwell from 1649-1660. Composed Paradise Lost after retiring from politics; its first edition was published in 1667, the second in 1674. Strong shift in perspective on Cromwell: positive -> negative

It was said of Socrates that he brought philosophy down from heaven, to inhabit among men; and I shall be ambitious to have it said that I have brought philosophy out of closets and libraries, schools and colleges, to dwell in clubs and assemblies, at tea tables and in coffeehouses. I would therefore . . . earnestly advise them [those who drink tea] to order this paper to be punctually served up, and to be looked upon as part of the tea equipage.

Spectator No. 11 - Sir Richard Steele.

For these reasons there are no more useful members in a commonwealth than merchants. They knit mankind together in a mutual intercourse of god offices, distribute the gifts of nature, find work for the poor, add wealth to the rich, and magnificence to the great. Our English merchant converts the tin of his own country into gold and exchanges his wool for rubies. The Mahometans are clothed in our British manufacture and the inhabitants of the frozen zone warmed with the fleeces of our sheep.

Spectator No. 69 - Joseph Addison. The Royal Exchange. Merchants turn stuff into wealth and circulate goods around. Market is like the circulatory system of the world

I am infinitely delighted in mixing with these several ministers of commerce as they are distinguished by their different walks and different languages. Sometimes I am justled among a body of Armenians; sometimes I am lost in a crowd of Jews; and sometimes make one in a group of Dutchmen. I am a Dane, Swede, or Frenchman at different times; or rather fancy [p. 2651] myself like the old philosopher, who upon being asked what countryman he was, replied that he was a citizen of the world.

Spectator No. 69 - Joseph Addison. The Royal Exchange. meeting new people from different places around the world.

Stand whoso list upon the slipper top Of court's estates, and let me here rejoice And use me quiet without let or stop, Unknown in court, that hath such brackish joys. In hidden place so let my days forth pass That when my years be done withouten noise, I may die aged after the common trace. For him death grippeth right hard by the crop That is much known of other, and of himself, alas, Doth die unknown, dazed, with dreadful face.

Stand whoso list - Thomas Wyatt

Key Technological Innovations in the Eighteenth Century

Steam engine: invented by James Watt (patented 1781) Seed drill: invented by Jethro Tull (patented 1733) Threshing machine: invented by Andrew Meikle (patented 1786) Spinning Jenny: invented by James Hargreaves (patented 1764) Puddling Furnace: invented by Henry Cort (patented 1783)

A broken ALTAR, Lord thy servant rears, Made of a heart, and cemented with teares: Whose parts are as thy hand did frame; No workmans tool hath touch'd the same A HEART alone Is such a stone, As nothing but Thy pow'r doth cut. Wherefore each part Of my hard heart Meets in this frame, To praise thy Name: That if I chance to hold my peace, These stones to praise thee may not cease. O let thy blessed SACRIFICE be mine, And sanctifie this ALTAR to be thine.

The Altar - George Herbert. The poem is actually in the shape of an altar.

Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlor splendors of that festive place; The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnished clock that clicked behind the door; The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; The pictures placed for ornament and use, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose; The hearth, except when winter chilled the day, With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay; While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, Ranged o'er the chimney, glistened in a row.

The Deserted Village - Oliver Goldsmith. Sentimental focus on objects - significant because they relate to people

But times are altered; Trade's unfeeling train Usurp the land and dispossess the swain; Along the lawn, where scattered hamlets rose, Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose; And every want to opulence allied, And every pang that folly pays to pride.

The Deserted Village - Oliver Goldsmith. Trade is clearly partly circulation of goods, but also a way of making money by selling goods.

Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheared the labouring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed, Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene! How often have I paused on every charm, The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, The never-failing brook, the busy mill, The decent church that topt the neighbouring hill, The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made! [. . .] These were thy charms—But all these charms are fled.

The Deserted Village - Oliver Goldsmith. childhood and innocence are represented by the village. Then turning point. used to be like this, but now it's changed

Thither [to the tavern] no more the peasant shall repair To sweet oblivion of his daily care; No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear. . .

The Deserted Village - Oliver Goldsmith. exactly what you want, a community, can't have it anymore

A time there was, ere England's griefs began, When every rood of ground maintained its man; For him light labor spread her wholesome store, Just gave what life required, but gave no more.

The Deserted Village - Oliver Goldsmith. state of subsidence farming and now those farms are going out of business due to big farms

[She] deplores that luckless hour, When idly first, ambitious of the town, She left her wheel and robes of country brown.

The Deserted Village - Oliver Goldsmith. weaver who used to be a weaver and now has moved to the city

Mark but this flea, and mark in this, How little that which thou deniest me is; Me it sucked first, and now sucks thee, And in this flea our two bloods mingled be; Thou know'st that this cannot be said A sin, or shame, or loss of maidenhead,° Yet this enjoys before it woo, And pampered° swells with one blood made of two, And this, alas, is more than we would do. Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare, Where we almost, nay more than married are. This flea is you and I, and this Our marriage bed and marriage temple is; Though parents grudge, and you, we are met, And cloistered in these living walls of jet.° Though use° make you apt to kill me, Let not to that, self-murder added be, And sacrilege, three sins in killing three. Cruel and sudden, hast thou since Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence? Wherein could this flea guilty be, Except in that drop which it sucked from thee? Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou Find'st not thy self nor me the weaker now; 'Tis true; then learn how false fears be: Just so much honor, when thou yiedl'st to me, Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.

The Flea - John Donne. Three lives = the trinity. He's like "that flea gets to have your blood, but I don't?" She kills the flea. but the flea taking some of her blood didn't really affect her/make her any weaker

I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then? But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den? 'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be. If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee. And now good-morrow to our waking souls, Which watch not one another out of fear; For love, all love of other sights controls, And makes one little room an everywhere. Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone, Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown, Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one. My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, And true plain hearts do in the faces rest; Where can we find two better hemispheres, Without sharp north, without declining west? Whatever dies, was not mixed equally; If our two loves be one, or, thou and I Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

The Good-Morrow - John Donne

The longe love that in my thought doth harbour And in mine heart doth keep his residence, Into my face presseth with bold pretence And therein campeth, spreading his banner. She that me learneth to love and suffer And will that my trust and lust's negligence Be reigned by reason, shame, and reverence, With his hardiness taketh displeasure. Wherewithal unto the heart's forest he fleeth, Leaving his enterprise with pain and cry, And there him hideth and not appeareth. What may I do when my master feareth But in the field with him to live and die? For good is the life ending faithfully.

The Long Love that in My Thought Doth Harbor - Thomas Wyatt

When God at first made man, Having a glass of blessings standing by, "Let us," said he, "pour on him all we can. Let the world's riches, which dispersèd lie, Contract into a span." So strength first made a way; Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honour, pleasure. When almost all was out, God made a stay, Perceiving that, alone of all his treasure, Rest in the bottom lay. "For if I should," said he, "Bestow this jewel also on my creature, He would adore my gifts instead of me, And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature; So both should losers be. "Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlessness; Let him be rich and weary, that at least, If goodness lead him not, yet weariness May toss him to my breast."

The Pulley - George Herbert

There are animals that borrow their colour from the neighbouring body, and consequently vary their hue as they happen to change their place. In like manner it ought to be the endeavour of every man to derive his reflections from the objects about him; for it is to no purpose that he alters his position, if his attention continues fixed to the same point. The mind should be kept open to the access of every new idea, and so far disengaged from the predominance of particular thoughts, as easily to accommodate itself to occasional entertainment.

The Rambler No. 5 - Samuel Johnson. You should be like a mental chameleon; adapt to what you hear, feel, and see. You need to empty out your mind and let the world come in. also need to cultivate feeling because we share feelings with everyone else.

And now, unveil'd, the toilet stands display'd, Each silver vase in mystic order laid. First, rob'd in white, the nymph intent adores With head uncover'd, the cosmetic pow'rs. A heav'nly image in the glass appears, To that she bends, to that her eyes she rears; Th' inferior priestess, at her altar's side, Trembling, begins the sacred rites of pride. Unnumber'd treasures ope at once, and here The various off'rings of the world appear; From each she nicely culls with curious toil, And decks the goddess with the glitt'ring spoil . . . . . . This casket India's glowing gems unlocks, And all Arabia breathes from yonder box. The tortoise here and elephant unite, Transform'd to combs, the speckled and the white. Here files of pins extend their shining rows, Puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux.

The Rape of the Lock - Canto 1 - Alexander Pope. Doing her make up. Partly satirical, but also wonder. gems from India - jewelry. Arabia - perfume. ivory for combs - tortoise and elephant. pins for her hair. The sublime - Edmund Burke and Immanuel Kant. Beauty instilled with terror. a mountain: can't completely grasp it/have a sense of it in a holistic way

This day, black omens threat the brightest fair That e'er deserv'd a watchful spirit's care; Some dire disaster, or by force, or slight, But what, or where, the fates have wrapt in night. Whether the nymph shall break Diana's law, Or some frail china jar receive a flaw; Or stain her honour, or her new brocade, Forget her pray'rs, or miss a masquerade; Or lose her heart, or necklace, at a ball; Or whether Heav'n has doom'd that Shock must fall.

The Rape of the Lock - Canto 2 - Alexander Pope. Ariel the sylph talking to Belinda. humor in equating her hair with honor or her heart. zeugma - stain -> honor and brocade lose -> heart and necklace people blowing things out of proportion

For lo! the board with cups and spoons is crown'd, The berries crackle, and the mill turns round. On shining altars of Japan they raise The silver lamp; the fiery spirits blaze. From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide, While China's earth receives the smoking tide. At once they gratify their scent and taste, And frequent cups prolong the rich repast. Straight hover round the fair her airy band; Some, as she sipp'd, the fuming liquor fann'd, Some o'er her lap their careful plumes display'd, Trembling, and conscious of the rich brocade.

The Rape of the Lock - Canto 3 - Alexander Pope. The coffee is mostly from the Middle East/India, maybe S. America. The table - Japan. Silver lamp/coffee vat. China's earth - porcelain cups

Say, why are beauties prais'd and honour'd most, The wise man's passion, and the vain man's toast? Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford, Why angels call'd, and angel-like ador'd? Why round our coaches crowd the white-glov'd beaux, Why bows the side-box from its inmost vows? How vain are all these glories, all our pains, Unless good sense preserve what beauty gains: That men may say, when we the front-box grace: 'Behold the first in virtue, as in face!' Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day, Charm'd the smallpox, or chas'd old age away; Who would not scorn what housewife's cares produce, Or who would learn one earthly thing of use?

The Rape of the Lock - Canto 5 - Alexander Pope. Clarissa speaking to Belinda and the others. She is the voice of reason. It's what is on the inside that matters. Not an effective speech. doesn't account for how small things sometimes are important.

Some thought it mounted to the lunar sphere, Since all things lost on earth are treasur'd there. There hero's wits are kept in pond'rous vases, And beaux' in snuff boxes and tweezercases. There broken vows and deathbed alms are found, And lovers' hearts with ends of riband bound; The courtier's promises, and sick man's prayers, The smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, Cages for gnats, and chains to yoke a flea, Dried butterflies, and tomes of casuistry.

The Rape of the Lock - Canto 5 - Alexander Pope. The lock is like a cage for a gnat (you don't really need a cage for your gnats). Courtier's promises, sick man's prayers - all a little useless. Put things in perspective

The single dress of a woman of quality is often the product of an hundred climates. The muff and the fan come together from the different ends of the earth. The scarf is sent from the torrid zone and the tippet from beneath the pole. The brocade petticoat rises out of the mines of Peru and the diamond necklace out of the bowels of Indostan.

The Spectator No. 69 - Joseph Addison. Different origins of commodities. Wit is similar to how you feel when you get a new dress (enjoyment)

The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings, The green hath clad the hill and eke the vale. The nightingale with feathers new she sings; The turtle to her make hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs. The hart hath hung his old head on the pale; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings; The fishes float with new repairèd scale; The adder all her slough away she slings; The swift swallow pursueth the fliès small; The busy bee her honey now she mings. Winter is worn, that was the flowers' bale. And thus I see among these pleasant things, Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.

The Soote Season - Henry Howard

For which reasons I shall endeavor to enliven morality with wit, and to temper wit with morality, that my readers may, if possible, both ways find their account in the speculation of the day. And to the end that their virtue and discretion may not be short, transient, intermitting starts of thought...

The Spectator (Joseph Addison), No. 10

In the next place, I would recommend this paper to the daily perusal of those gentlemen whom I cannot but consider as my good brothers and allies, I mean the fraternity of spectators who live in the world without having anything to do in it; and either by the affluence of their fortunes or laziness of their dispositions have no other business with the rest of mankind but to look upon them.

The Spectator (Joseph Addison), No. 10. it's for people who have nothing to talk about - gives them topics

Our adventurer was the third son of an eminent citizen, who had taken particular care to instill into his mind an early love of gain by making him a perfect master of numbers, and consequently giving him a quick view of loss and advantage, and preventing the natural impulses of his passions by prepossession towards his interests. [. . .] To be short, Mr. Thomas Inkle, now coming into English territories, began seriously to reflect upon his loss of time and to weigh with himself how many days' interest of his money he had lost during his stay with Yarico. This thought made the young man very pensive and careful what account he should be able to give his friends of his voyage. Upon which considerations, the prudent and frugal young man sold Yarico to a Barabadian merchant; notwithstanding that the poor girl, to incline him to commiserate her condition, told him that she was with child by him. But he only made use of that information to rise in his demands upon the purchaser.

The Spectator No. 11 - Sir Richard Steele. Barbados was the center of the English slave trade. Moral indictment of the way English financial system was involved so deeply with the slave trade. comes to believe that everything has a price.

If we consider those parts of the material world which lie the nearest to us and are, therefore, subject to our observations and inquiries. Every part of matter is peopled. Every green leaf swarms with inhabitants . . . We find every mountain and marsh, wilderness and wood, plentifully stocked with birds and beasts, and every part of matter affording proper necessaries and conveniences for the livelihood of multitudes which inhabit it.

The Spectator No. 519 - Joseph Addison. Weird looking at nature like a storehouse/store. Utilitarian seeming kind of view. Viewing everything in what way we can use it. Addison is pretty thrilled about how much there is and how it's like a supermarket

I shall only add to it [i.e., Locke's definition], by way of explanation, that every resemblance of ideas is not that which we call wit, unless it be such an one that gives delight and surprise to the reader. These two properties seem essential to wit, more particularly the last of them.

The Spectator No. 62 - Joseph Addison. Assemblage of ideas that don't normally go together in a way that is funny or shocking = wit.

Busy old fool, unruly sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows, and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run? Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide Late school boys and sour prentices, Go tell court huntsmen that the king will ride, Call country ants to harvest offices, Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime, Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time. Thy beams, so reverend and strong Why shouldst thou think? I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink, But that I would not lose her sight so long; If her eyes have not blinded thine, Look, and tomorrow late, tell me, Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with me. Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday, And thou shalt hear, All here in one bed lay. She's all states, and all princes, I, Nothing else is. Princes do but play us; compared to this, All honor's mimic, all wealth alchemy. Thou, sun, art half as happy as we, In that the world's contracted thus. Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be To warm the world, that's done in warming us. Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere; This bed thy center is, these walls, thy sphere.

The Sun Rising - John Donne

Lord, how can man preach thy eternal word? He is a brittle crazy glass; Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford This glorious and transcendent place, To be a window, through thy grace. But when thou dost anneal in glass thy story, Making thy life to shine within The holy preachers, then the light and glory More reverend grows, and more doth win; Which else shows waterish, bleak, and thin. Doctrine and life, colors and light, in one When they combine and mingle, bring A strong regard and awe; but speech alone Doth vanish like a flaring thing, And in the ear, not conscience, ring.

The Windows - George Herbert. Explores how the preacher himself may become such a window. Preachers are like stained-glass windows; God's word is getting slightly distorted.

Thomas Wyatt

The son of Henry Wyatt, a Yorkshire nobleman who rose to prominence as an early advocate of Henry VII. Married in 1522, but it was an unhappy match; may have been involved in an illicit affair with Anne Boleyn (the second wife of Henry VIII). The first to transpose the form of the Petrarchan sonnet into English, during the 1530s. Imprisoned twice, in 1536 and 1541.

Christopher Marlowe

The son of a London shoemaker. Attended the King's School in Canterbury, and then studied at Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, from 1580-87. May have worked as a spy for Francis Walsingham during 1580s and 1590s. Working in London theatre scene by 1587; he published several plays, including Tamburlaine and Doctor Faustus, between 1588 and 1593. Died in a brawl with known government agents on 30 May 1593.

Andrew Marvell

The son of an Anglican clergyman, and grew up in Hull, a city in the northeast of England. Studied at Cambridge, as a "sizar" or work- study student, from 1633-39. Traveled in Europe during the 1640s. Made a number of Republican ties, serving as a tutor to the daughter of Lord Fairfax in 1650-52, and then as Latin secretary (alongside John Milton) to Cromwell's Council of State in 1658-59. Member of Parliament for Hull from 1661 to his death, in 1678.

They flee from me, that sometime did me seek With naked foot stalking in my chamber. I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek That now are wild and do not remember That sometime they put themself in danger To take bread at my hand; and now they range, Busily seeking with a continual change. Thanked be fortune it hath been otherwise Twenty times better; but once in special, In thin array, after a pleasant guise, When her loose gown from her shoulders did fall, And she me caught in her arms long and small, Therewithal sweetly did me kiss And softly said, "Dear heart, how like you this?" It was no dream, I lay broad waking, But all is turned, thorough my gentleness, Into a strange fashion of forsaking; And I have leave to go, of her goodness, And she also to use newfangleness But since that I so Kindly am served, I fain would know what she hath deserved.

They Flee from me - Thomas Wyatt

"Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard" - author

Thomas Gray

"Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College" - author

Thomas Gray

"Divers doth Use" - author

Thomas Wyatt

"My Galley" - author

Thomas Wyatt

"Stand whoso list" - author

Thomas Wyatt

"They Flee from Me" - author

Thomas Wyatt

"What vaileth truth?" - author

Thomas Wyatt

"Who list his wealth and ease retain" - author

Thomas Wyatt

"Whoso List to Hunt" - author

Thomas Wyatt

The Long Love that in My Thought - author

Thomas Wyatt

I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean, and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man, A motion and a spirit, that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth; of all the mighty world Of eye and ear, both what they half-create, And what perceive.

Tintern Abbey - William Wordsworth. Describing combination of objective and subjective. subject of poem is really Wordsworth perceiving the Abbey. half-create; half-perceive. how much is being worked on by our thoughts/imaginations?

Once again I see These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild; these pastoral farms Green to the very door; and wreathes of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees, With some uncertain notice, as might seem, Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, Or of some hermit's cave, where by his fire The hermit sits alone.

Tintern Abbey - William Wordsworth. Houseless, because they're living in tents/shacks. hermit - homeless person. greet to the very door: just to get enough subsistence. from the farm, there were no walkways, just plantings. wreathes of smoke from campfires. deeply reading Milton

. . . we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul— While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.

Tintern Abbey - William Wordsworth. This is what he needs to focus his mind on.

I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite: a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, or any interest Unborrowed from the eye.

Tintern Abbey - William Wordsworth. What he cares about is how the Tintern Abbey reflects on him. How has it changed since last time? How has he changed? passage about his failure to put himself back in his shoes 5 years ago. can't paint who he was because he isn't the same person. he has changed - before felt like a passion, love; he soaked it all in. now, he's constantly supplying thought, can't stop thinking. similar to Johnson-Wordsworth was reading Johnson

Five years have passed; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I hear These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs With a sweet inland murmur.—Once again Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, Which on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of a more deep seclusion; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky. The day is come when I again repose Here, under this dark sycamore, and view These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts, Which, at this season, with their unripe fruits, Among the woods and copses lose themselves, Nor, with their green and simple hue, disturb The wild green landscape. Once again I see These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild; these pastoral farms Green to the very door; and wreathes of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees, With some uncertain notice, as might seem, Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, Or of some hermit's cave, where by his fire The hermit sits alone.

Tintern Abbey - William Wordsworth. about the landscape. His return in 1798 after visit in 1793. cliffs, hills, water/river. "these" - shows it's a specific place

It will be looked for, book, when some but see Thy title, Epigrams, and named of me, Thou should'st be bold, licentious, full of gall, Wormwood and sulphur, sharp and toothed withal, Become a petulant thing, hurl ink and wit As madmen stones, not caring whom they hit. Deceive their malice who could wish it so, And by thy wiser temper let men know Thou art not covetous of least self-fame Made from the hazard of another's shame -- Much less with lewd, profane, and beastly phrase To catch the world's loose laughter or vain gaze. He that departs with his own honesty For vulgar praise, doth it too dearly buy.

To My Book - Ben Jonson

Samuel Johnson

Was raised in Lichfield, in central England; his father was a bookseller. Attended Oxford in 1728, but had to drop out because his father couldn't pay. Suffered from Tourette's Syndrome, with many tics and vocal outbursts. Began writing in London in late 1730s and socialized with the literary intelligentsia. Wrote widely, including poetry, such as "The Vanity of Human Wishes" (1749), essays, such as the Rambler and Idler, and a Dictionary of English, finished in 1755.

What vaileth truth? or by it to take pain, To strive by steadfastness for to attain. To be just and true and flee from doubleness; Sithens all alike, where ruleth craftiness, Rewarded is both false and plain? Soonest he speedeth that most can feign; True-meaning heart is had in disdain. Against deceit and doubleness, What vaileth truth? Deceived is he by crafty train That meaneth no guile and doth remain Within the trap without redress. But for to love, lo, such a mistress, Whose cruelty nothing can refrain, What vaileth truth?

What Vaileth Truth? - Thomas Wyatt

Who list his wealth and ease retain, Himself let him unknown contain. Press not too fast in at that gate Where the return stands by disdain: For sure, circa regna tonat. The high mountains are blasted oft When the low valley is mild and soft. Fortune with Health stands at debate. The fall is grievous from aloft. And sure, circa regna tonat. These bloody days have broken my heart. My lust, my youth did then depart, And blind desire of estate. Whoa hastes to climb seeks to revert. Of truth circa regna tonat. The Bell Tower showed me such sight That in my head sticks day and night. There did I learn out of a grate, For all favor, glory, or might, That yet circa regna tonat. By proof, I say, there did I learn: Wit helpeth not defense to yerne, Of innocence to plead or prate. Bear low, therefore, give God the stern, For sure, circa regna tonat.

Who list his wealth and ease retain - Thomas Wyatt

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind, But as for me, alas, I may no more. The vain travail hath wearied me so sore, I am of them that farthest cometh behind. Yet may I, by no means, my wearied mind Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore, Fainting I follow. I leave off, therefore, Since in a net I seek to hold the wind. Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt, As well as I, may spend his time in vain. And graven with diamonds in letters plain There is written, her fair neck round about, "Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am, And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.

Whoso List to Hunt - Thomas Wyatt

"Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey" - author

William Wordsworth

Wit according to Dryden

a fittingness of thoughts and words; matches thoughts and words or saying something clever in as simple and clear terms as possible

Rape of the Lock

about Lord Petra and Arabella having tea. Petra snips off a lock of her hair. Belinda is Arabella's alter ego. Ariel the sylph. Clarissa - alter ego/voice of reason

The Spectator No. 411

by Joseph Addison and is about imagination and how we incorporate things we have seen into it

Idler No. 31

by Samuel Johnson. Literally just about Idleness

What, have I thus betray'd my liberty? Can those black beams such burning marks engrave In my free side? Or am I born a slave, Whose neck becomes such yoke of tyranny? Or want I sense to feel my misery? Or sprite, disdain of such disdain to have, Who for long faith, though daily help I crave, May get no alms but scorn of beggary? Virtue awake, beauty but beauty is; I may, I must, I can, I will, I do Leave following that, which it is gain to miss. Let her go! Soft, but here she comes. Go to, Unkind, I love you not. Oh me, that eye Doth make my heart give to my tongue the lie.

from Astrophil and Stella - Philip Sidney

When Nature made her chief work, Stella's eyes, In colour black why wrapt she beams so bright? Would she in beamy black, like painter wise, Frame daintiest lustre, mix'd of shades and light? Or did she else that sober hue devise, In object best to knit and strength our sight; Lest, if no veil these brave gleams did disguise, They, sunlike, should more dazzle than delight? Or would she her miraculous power show, That, whereas black seems beauty's contrary, She even in black doth make all beauties flow? Both so, and thus, she, minding Love should be Plac'd ever there, gave him this mourning weed To honour all their deaths who for her bleed.

from Astrophil and Stella - Philip Sidney

Desire, though thou my old companion art, And oft so clings to my pure Love that I One from the other scarcely can descry, While each doth blow the fire of my heart, Now from thy fellowship I needs must part; Venus is taught with Dian's wings to fly; I must no more in thy sweet passions lie; Virtue's gold now must head my Cupid's dart. Service and honor, wonder with delight, Fear to offend, will worthy to appear, Care shining in mine eyes, faith in my sprite: These things are let me by my only dear; But thou, Desire, because thou wouldst have all, Now banished art. But yet alas how shall?

from Astrophil and Stella - Philip Sidney

I on my horse, and Love on me doth try Our horsemanships, while by strange work I prove A horseman to my horse, a horse to Love; And now man's wrongs in me, poor beast, descry. The reins wherewith my rider doth me tie, Are humbled thoughts, which bit of reverence move, Curb'd in with fear, but with gilt boss above Of hope, which makes it seem fair to the eye. The wand is will; thou, fancy, saddle art, Girt fast by memory, and while I spur My horse, he spurs with sharp desire my heart: He sits me fast, however I do stir: And now hath made me to his hand so right, That in the manage myself takes delight.

from Astrophil and Stella - Philip Sidney

Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That the dear She might take some pleasure of my pain, Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain, I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain, Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sunburned brain. But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay; Invention, Nature's child, fled step-dame Study's blows, And others' feet still° seemed but strangers in my way. Thus great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes, Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite, "Fool," said my Muse to me, "look in thy heart and write."

from Astrophil and Stella - Philip Sidney

Now that of absence the most irksome night, With darkest shade doth overcome my day; Since Stella's eyes, wont to give me my day, Leaving my hemisphere, leave me in night; Each day seems long, and longs for long-stayed night; The night as tedious, woos the approach of day; Tired with the dusty toils of busy day, Languished with horrors of the silent night, Suffering the ills both of the day and night, While no night is more dark than is my day, Nor no day hath less quiet than my night; With such bad mixture of my night and day, That living thus in blackest winter night, I feel the flames of hottest summer day.

from Astrophil and Stella - Philip Sidney

O absent presence, Stella is not here; False flattering hope, that with so fair a face Bare me in hand, that in this orphan place Stella, I say my Stella, should appear. What say'st thou now? Where is that dainty cheer Thou told'st mine eyes should help their famished case? But thou art gone, now that self-felt disgrace Doth make me most to wish thy comfort near. But here I do store of fair ladies meet, Who may with charm of conversation sweet Make in my heavy mould new thoughts to grow: Sure they prevail as much with me, as he That bade his friend, but then new maimed, to be Merry with him, and not think of his woe.

from Astrophil and Stella - Philip Sidney

Queen Virtue's court, which some call Stella's face, Prepar'd by Nature's choicest furniture, Hath his front built of alabaster pure; Gold in the covering of that stately place. The door by which sometimes comes forth her Grace Red porphyr is, which lock of pearl makes sure, Whose porches rich (which name of cheeks endure) Marble mix'd red and white do interlace. The windows now through which this heav'nly guest Looks o'er the world, and can find nothing such, Which dare claim from those lights the name of best, Of touch they are that without touch doth touch, Which Cupid's self from Beauty's mine did draw: Of touch they are, and poor I am their straw.

from Astrophil and Stella - Philip Sidney

Stella oft sees the very face of woe Painted in my beclouded stormy face: But cannot skill to pity my disgrace, Not though thereof the cause herself she know: Yet hearing late a fable, which did show Of lovers never known, a grievous case, Pity thereof gat in her breast such place That, from that sea deriv'd, tears' spring did flow. Alas, if fancy drawn by imag'd things, Though false, yet with free scope more grace doth breed Than servant's wrack, where new doubts honour brings; Then think, my dear, that you in me do read Of lovers' ruin some sad tragedy: I am not I, pity the tale of me.

from Astrophil and Stella - Philip Sidney

When sorrow (using mine own fire's might) Melts down his lead into my boiling breast, Through that dark furnace to my heart oppressed, There shines a joy from thee, my only light; But soon as thought of thee breeds my delight, And my young soul flutters to thee, his nest, Most rude despair, my daily unbidden guest, Clips straight my wings, straight wraps me in his night, And makes me then bow down my head, and say, Ah, what doth Phoebus ' gold that wretch avail Whom iron doors do keep from use of day? So strangely (alas) thy works in me prevail, That in my woes for thee thou art my joy, And in my joys for thee my only annoy.

from Astrophil and Stella - Philip Sidney

Who will in fairest book of nature know How virtue may best lodg'd in beauty be, Let him but learn of love to read in thee, Stella, those fair lines which true goodness show. There shall he find all vices' overthrow, Not by rude force, but sweetest sovereignty Of reason, from whose light those night-birds fly; That inward sun in thine eyes shineth so. And, not content to be perfection's heir Thyself, dost strive all minds that way to move, Who mark in thee what is in thee most fair. So while thy beauty draws thy heart to love, As fast thy virtue bends that love to good: But "Ah," Desire still cries, "Give me some food!"

from Astrophil and Stella - Philip Sidney

You that with allegory's curious frame, Of others' children changelings use to make, With me those pains for God's sake do not take: I list not dig so deep for brazen fame. When I say "Stella," I do mean the same Princess of Beauty, for whose only sake The reins of Love I love, though never slake, And joy therein, though nations count it shame. I beg no subject to use eloquence, Nor in hid ways do guide Philosophy: Look at my hands for no such quintessence; But know that I in pure simplicity Breathe out the flames which burn within my heart Love only reading unto me this art.

from Astrophil and Stella - Philip Sidney

Faustus, begin thine incantations, And try if devils will obey thy hest,° Seeing thou hast prayed and sacrificed to them. Within this circle is Jehovah's name, Forward and backward anagrammatized; Th'bbreviated names of holy saints, Figures of every adjunct to the heavens, And characters of signs and erring stars, By which the spirits are enforced to rise. Then fear not Faustus, but be resolute, And try the uttermost magic can perform.

from Doctor Faustus - Christopher Marlowe.

These metaphysics of magicians And necromantic books are heavenly! Lines, circles, schemes, letters, and characters! Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires. O what a world of profit and delight, Of power, of honor, of omnipotence Is promised to the studious artisan! All things that move between the quiet° poles Shall be at my command: emperors and kings Are but obeyed in their several° provinces, Nor can they raise the wind, or rend the clouds; But his dominion that exceeds in this Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man: A sound magician is a mighty god.

from Doctor Faustus - Christopher Marlowe. About the art and power of magic, power of speech is what is important to him

I see there's virtue° in my heavenly words! Who would not be proficient in this art? How pliant is this Mephastophilis, Full of obedience and humility, Such is the force of magic and my spells. Now Faustus, thou art conjurer laureate° That canst command great Mephastophilis.

from Doctor Faustus - Christopher Marlowe. Believes there is power in his words

Now Faustus, what would'st thou have me do? I charge thee wait upon me whilst I live, To do whatever Faustus shall command, Be it to make the moon drop from her sphere, Or the ocean to overwhelm the world. I am a servant to great Lucifer, And may not follow thee without his leave; No more than he command must we perform. Did not he charge thee to appear to me? No, I came now hither of mine own accord. Did not my conjuring speeches raise thee? Speak! That was the cause, but yet per accidens, For when we hear one rack° the name of God, Abjure° the Scriptures, and his savior Christ, We fly in hope to get his glorious soul . . .

from Doctor Faustus - Christopher Marlowe. He isn't actually powerful. Devils come for those who call because they sense that the person is a fool and they can take their body over.

May the gods of the lower regions favor me! Farewell to the Trinity! Hail, spirits of fire, air, water, and earth! Prince of the East, Belzebub, monarch of burning hell, and Demogorgon, we pray to you that Mephastophilis may appear and rise. What are you waiting for! By Jehovah, Gehenna, and the holy water that I now sprinkle, and the sign of the cross that I now make, and by our vows, may Mephastophilis himself now rise to serve us.

from Doctor Faustus - Christopher Marlowe. His incantations

My gracious lord, I am ready to accomplish your request, so far forth as by art and power of my spirit I am able to perform. KNIGHT [aside] I'faith, that's just nothing at all. But, if it like your grace, it is not in my ability to present before your eyes the true substantial bodies of those two deceased princes, which long since are consumed to dust. KNIGHT [aside] Ay, marry, master doctor, now there's a sign of grace in you, when you will confess the truth.

from Doctor Faustus - Christopher Marlowe. Just him showing off

Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss: Her lips sucks forth my soul, see where it flies! Come Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven be in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena!

from Doctor Faustus - Christopher Marlowe. it is just an illusion

My worthy Lord, I pray you wonder not To see your woodman shoot so oft awry, Nor that he stands amazèd like a sot, And lets the harmless deer unhurt go by. Or if he strike a doe which is but carren, Laugh not good Lord, but favor such a fault, Take will in worth, he would fain hit the barren, But though his heart be good, his hap is naught.

from Gascoigne's Woodsmanship - George Gascoigne.

He cannot climb as other catchers° can, To lead a charge before himself be led, He cannot spoil° the simple sakeless° man, Which is content to feed him with his bread. He cannot pinch° the painful soldier's pay, And shear him out° his share in ragged sheets, He cannot stoop to take a greedy pray Upon his fellows groveling in the streets.

from Gascoigne's Woodsmanship - George Gascoigne. "He cannot" repetition to say what he isn't. He doesn't have the heart to be a jerk to other people. Leading to his point about what's important

And when I see the milk hang in her teat, Methinks it saith, old babe, now learn to suck, Who in thy youth couldst never learn the feat To hit the whites° which live with all good luck.

from Gascoigne's Woodsmanship - George Gascoigne. Again, he shot the wrong deer; he is just like a helpless infant.

. . . some that never handled such a bow, Can hit the white,° or touch it near the quick, Who can nor° speak, nor write in pleasant wise,° Nor lead their life by Aristotle's rule, Nor argue well on questions that arise, Nor plead a case more° than my lord mayor's mule, Yet can they hit the marks that I do miss, And win the mean° which may the man maintain.

from Gascoigne's Woodsmanship - George Gascoigne. Some people can hit a target, but can't speak, write, argue well, understand Aristotle, etc. It's crazy that we value these things so little and things like hitting a target so much.

[He] shot sometimes to hit Philosophy . . [. . .] Next that, he shot to be a man of law°. . . [. . .] From thence he shot to catch a courtly grace°. . . [. . .] But now behold what mark the man doth find:° He shoots to be a soldier in his age, Mistrusting all the virtues° of the mind, He trusts the power of his personage,° As though long limbs led by a lusty hart Might yet suffice to make him rich again.

from Gascoigne's Woodsmanship - George Gascoigne. Talking about all of the things he's tried to do, but has failed at.

Am I thus conquered? Have I lost the powers That to withstand, which joys to ruin me? Must I be still, while it my strength devours, And captive leads me prisoner, bound, unfree? Love first shall leave men's fancies to them free, Desire shall quench Love's flames, spring hate sweet showers, Love shall loose all his darts, have sight, and see His shame, and wishings hinder happy hours. Why should we not Love's purblind charms resist? Must we be servile, doing what he list? No, seek some host too harbor thee: I fly Thy babish tricks, and freedome do profess. But O my hurt makes my lost heart confess I love, and must: So farewell liberty.

from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus - Mary Wroth

False hope which feeds but to destroy, and spill What it first breeds; unnatural to the birth Of thine own womb; conceiving but to kill, And plenty gives to make the greater dearth, So tyrants do who falsely ruling earth Outwardly grace them, and with profits fill, Advance those who appointed are to death To make their greater fall to please their will. Thus shadow they their wicked vile intent, Coloring evil with a show of good While in fair shows their malice so is spent; Hope kills the heart, and tyrants shed the blood. For hope deluding brings us to the pride Of our desires the farther down to slide.

from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus - Mary Wroth

Take heed mine eyes, how you your looks do cast Lest they betray my heart's most secret thought, Be true unto yourselves, for nothing's bought More dear then doubt, which brings a lover's fast. Catch you all watching eyes, ere they be past, Or take yours fixed, where your best love hath sought The pride of your desires; let them be taught Their faults for shame they could no truer last. Then look, and look with joy, for conquest won Of those that searched your hurt in double kind; So you kept safe, let them themselves look blind, Watch, gaze, and mark till they to madness run, While you, mine eyes enjoy full sight of love Contented that such happinesses move.

from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus - Mary Wroth

When night's black mantle could most darkness prove, And sleep, death's image, did my senses hire From knowledge of myself, then thoughts did move Swifter than those most swiftness need require. In sleep, a chariot drawn by winged desire I saw, where sat bright Venus, Queen of Love, And at her feet, her son, still adding fire To burning hearts, which she did hold above. But one heart flaming more than all the rest The goddess held, and put it to my breast. "Dear son, now shut,"° said she: "thus must we win." He her obeyed, and martyred my poor heart. I, waking, hoped as dreams it would depart: Yet since, O me, a lover I have been.

from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus - Mary Wroth

For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love, Or chide my palsy, or my gout, My five gray hairs, or ruined fortune flout, With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve, Take you a course, get you a place, Observe his honor, or his grace, Or the king's real, or his stampèd face Contemplate; what you will, approve, So you will let me love. [...] And thus invoke us: "You, whom reverend love Made one another's hermitage; You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage; Who did the whole world's soul contract, and drove Into the glasses of your eyes (So made such mirrors, and such spies, That they did all to you epitomize) Countries, towns, courts: beg from above A pattern of your love!"

from The Canonization - John Donne

Where, like a pillow on a bed A pregnant bank swell'd up to rest The violet's reclining head, Sat we two, one another's best. Our hands were firmly cemented With a fast balm, which thence did spring; Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread Our eyes upon one double string; So to'intergraft our hands, as yet Was all the means to make us one, And pictures in our eyes to get Was all our propagation. [...] To'our bodies turn we then, that so Weak men on love reveal'd may look; Love's mysteries in souls do grow, But yet the body is his book. And if some lover, such as we, Have heard this dialogue of one, Let him still mark us, he shall see Small change, when we'are to bodies gone.

from The Ecstasy - John Donne

The knight was much enmovèd with his speech, That as a swords point through his hart did perse, And in his conscience made a secret breach,° Well knowing true all, that he did rehearse.° Come, come away, fraile, feeble, fleshly wight, Ne let vaine words bewitch thy manly hart, Ne divelish thoughts dismay thy constant spright.° In heavenly mercies hast thou not a part? Why shouldst thou then despeire, that chosen art? Where justice growes, there grows eke° greater grace, The which doth quench the brond° of hellish smart, And that accurst hand-writing doth deface.° Arise, Sir knight arise, and leave this cursed place.

from The Faerie Queene Book One, Canto Nine- Edmund Spenser. Despaire starts to get to Redcrosse, but Una steps in saying that mercy exists, and why should it not for him

. . . A booke, wherein his Saveours testament Was writ with golden letters rich and brave;° A worke of wondrous grace, and able soules to save.

from The Faerie Queene Book One, Canto Nine- Edmund Spenser. King Arthur had just saved Redcrosse and they are exchanging gifts. This is Redcrosse's gift to Arthur.

Is not he just, that all this doth behold From highest heaven, and beares an equall eye? Shall he thy sins up in his knowledge fold, And guiltie be of thine impietie? Is not his law, Let every sinner die: Die shall all flesh? what then must needs be donne, Is it not better to doe willinglie, Then linger, till the glasse° be all out ronne? Death is the end of woes: die soone, O faeries sonne.

from The Faerie Queene Book One, Canto Nine- Edmund Spenser. Protestant thinking is actually where Despaire gets his thinking, which is interesting because Spenser was Protestant

"Which, when he knew, and felt our feeble harts Embost° with bale,° and bitter byting griefe, Which love had launchèd° with his deadly darts, With wounding words and termes of foule repriefe, He pluckt from us all hope of due reliefe, That earst° us held in love of lingering life; Then hopelesse hartlesse, gan the cunning thiefe Perswade us die, to stint° all further strife: To me he lent this rope, to him, a rustie° knife."

from The Faerie Queene Book One, Canto Nine- Edmund Spenser. Trevisan is speaking about Despaire. Despaire is kind of like a writer, and he's a very literal guy

But on his brest a bloudie Crosse he bore, The deare remembrance of his dying Lord, For whose sweet sake that glorious badge he wore, And dead as living ever him adored: Upon his shield the like was also scored,° For soveraine° hope, which in his helpe he had: Right faithfull true° he was in deede and word, But of his cheere° did seeme too solemne sad; Yet nothing did he dread,° but ever was ydrad.°

from The Faerie Queene Book One, Canto One - Edmund Spenser. Symbol of Redcrosse's faith and how he has it as his weapon

Led with delight, they thus beguile the way, Untill the blustring storme is overblowne; When weening° to returne, whence they did stray, They cannot finde that path, which first was showne, But wander too and fro in ways unknowne, Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene, That makes them doubt, their wits be not their owne: So many pathes, so many turnings seene, That which of them to take, in diverse doubt they been.

from The Faerie Queene Book One, Canto One- Edmund Spenser

Much daunted with that dint,° her scence was dazd, Yet kindling rage, her selfe she gathered round, And all attonce her beastly body raized° With doubled forces high above the ground: Tho° wrapping up her wrethèd sterne° arownd, Lept fierce upon his shield, and her huge traine° All suddenly about his body wound, That hand or foot to stirre he strove in vaine: God helpe the man so wrapt in Errours endlesse traine.

from The Faerie Queene Book One, Canto One- Edmund Spenser. Description of Errour and Redcrosse's battle with her. Partly religious error, but also just error in general.

"Love of your selfe," she said, "and deare° constraint Lets me not sleepe, but waist the wearie night In secret anguish and unpittied plaint, Whiles you in ceaselesse sleepe are drownèd quight." Her doubtfull words made that redoubted° knight Suspect her truth: yet since no'untruth he knew, Her fawning love with foule disdainefull spight He would not shend,° but said, "Deare dame I rew, That for my sake unknowne suche grief unto you grew."

from The Faerie Queene Book One, Canto One- Edmund Spenser. The fake church: disguised herself to look like Una and tried to seduce Knight Redcrosse. He's holy, so he doesn't know how to be a liar/to be untrue and so he doesn't recognize her lies.

His lady sad to see his sore constraint, Cride out, "Now now Sir knight, shew what ye bee, Add faith unto your force, and be not faint: Strangle her, else she sure will strangle thee." That when he heard, in great perplexitie,° His gall did grate° for griefe° and high disdaine, And knitting all his force got one hand free, Wherewith he grypt her gorge° with so great paine, That soone to loose her wicked bands did her constraine. Therewith she spewd out of her filthy maw° A floud of poyson horrible and blacke, Full of great lumpes of flesh and gobbets° raw, Which stunck so vildly, that it forst him slacke° His grasping hold, and from her turne him backe: Her vomit full of bookes and papers was, With loathly frogs and toades, which eyes did lacke, And creeping sought way in the weedy gras: Her filthy parbreake° all the place defilèd has.

from The Faerie Queene Book One, Canto One- Edmund Spenser. Una = the one true church (Protestant). She's telling him to be holy, to use his faith. Books, papers, frogs, and toads leave Errour's mouth: she has read something that has polluted her body (possibly Catholic propaganda).

When my grave is broke up again Some second guest to entertain (For graves have learned that woman-head° To be more than one a bed), And he that digs it spies A bracelet of bright hair about the bone, Will he not let us alone, And think that there a loving couple lies, Who thought that this device might be some way To make their souls, at the last busy day,° Meet at this grave, and make a little stay?

from The Relic - John Donne. About him looking forward to reuniting with his love on Judgment Day

But at my back I always hear Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. [. . .] Now let us sport us while we may, And now, like amorous birds of prey, Rather at once our time devour Than languish in his slow-chapped° power. Let us roll all our strength and all Our sweetness up into one ball, And tear our pleasures with rough strife Thorough° the iron gates of life: Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.

from To His Coy Mistress - Andrew Marvell. Time is moving too fast, we aren't going to live forever. Time flies when you're having fun

A little further to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live, And we have wits to read and praise to give. That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses, I mean with great, but disproportioned Muses; For, if I thought my judgment were of years, I should commit thee surely with thy peers, And tell how far thou didst our Lyly outshine...

from To the Memory of My Beloved, The Author, Mr. William Shakespeare, and What He Hath Left Us - Ben Jonson

My Shakespeare, rise; I will not lodge thee by Chaucer or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further to make thee a room°: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live, And we have wits to read and praise to give. [. . .] Triumph, my Britain; thou hast one to show To whom all scenes° of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time!

from To the Memory of My Beloved, The Author, Mr. William Shakespeare, and What He Hath Left Us - Ben Jonson

I have heard him, upon other occasions, talk with great contempt of people who were anxious to gratify their palates; and the 206th number of his Rambler is a masterly essay against gulosity . . .

from the Life of Samuel Johnson - James Boswell.

[I]n the chronological series of Johnson's life, which I trace as distinctly as I can, year by year, I produce, wherever it is in my power, his own minutes, letters or conversation, being convinced that this mode is more lively, and will make my readers better acquainted with him, than even most of those were who actually knew him, but could know him only partially . . . I cannot conceive a more perfect mode of writing any man's life, than not only relating all the most important events of it in their order, but interweaving what he privately wrote, and said, and thought; by which mankind are enabled as it were to see him live, and to "live o'er each scene" with him, as he actually advanced through the several stages of his life.

from the Life of Samuel Johnson - James Boswell. Series of private thoughts and what he wrote and what he said. live over each scene with him. get a picture of what it's like to hang out with him.

Mr. Wilkes was very assiduous in helping him to some fine veal. 'Pray give me leave, Sir:—It is better here—A little of the brown—Some fat, Sir—A little of the stuffing—Some gravy—Let me have the pleasure of giving you some butter—Allow me to recommend a squeeze of this orange;—or the lemon, perhaps, may have more zest.'—'Sir, Sir, I am obliged to you, Sir,' cried Johnson, bowing, and turning his head to him with a look for some time of 'surly virtue,' but, in a short while, of complacency.

from the Life of Samuel Johnson - James Boswell. Wilkes keeps offering Johnson food and eventually, the two get along and Johnson doesn't think that Wilkes is that bad. If you're nice, he's not gonna be stand-offish - people first, principle second.

. . . His practice, indeed, I must acknowledge, may be considered as casting the balance of his different opinions upon this subject; for I never knew any man who relished good eating more than he did. When at table, he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment; his looks seemed riveted to his plate; nor would he, unless when in very high company, say one word, or even pay the least attention to what was said by others, till he had satisfied his appetite, which was so fierce, and indulged with such intenseness, that while in the act of eating, the veins of his forehead swelled, and generally a strong perspiration was visible. To those whose sensations were delicate, this could not but be disgusting; and it was doubtless not very suitable to the character of a philosopher, who should be distinguished by self-command. But it must be owned, that Johnson, though he could be rigidly abstemious, was not a temperate man either in eating or drinking. He could refrain, but he could not use moderately.

from the Life of Samuel Johnson - James Boswell. he's a super intense guy, man of extremes