|Grocott & Ward, comps. Grocotts Familiar Quotations, 6th ed. 189-?.|
|Tis all my pleasure thy past toil to know,|
For pleased remembrance builds delight on woe.
|The pleasure your letter gave me surpassed all the anxiety your silence had occasioned me.|
Miss Kelly.To Swift on his silence. (Roscoes Life of S.)
|Sweet is pleasure after pain.|
Dryden.Alexanders Feast, Verse 3.
|And pleasing others, learnd herself to please.|
Churchill.Epi. to Hogarth, Line 104.
|And if you mean to profit, learn to please.|
Churchill.Gotham, Book II. Line 88. (A Quotation.)
|Yours be the care to profit, and to please.|
Dryden.The Wife of Bath, Line 517.
|No person spoke without being pleased himself, and pleasing his companions.|
Swift.Voyage to the Houyhnhnms.
|The pleasures of the vulgar are ungrounded, this, and superficial, but the other are solid and eternal.|
Seneca.Of a Happy Life, Chap. I. near the end.
|Approach loves awful throne by just degrees,|
And, if thou wouldst be happy, learn to please.
Prior.Solomon, Book II. Line 266.
|And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.|
Spenser.Fairy Queen, Book III. Canto X. Verse 60.
|May you be all as old as I,|
And see your sons to manhood grow;
And, many a time before you die,
Be just as pleased as I am now.
Bloomfield.Richard and Kate.
|Pleasures are ever in our hands or eyes;|
And when in act they cease, in prospect rise.
Pope.Essay on Man, Epi. II. Line 123.
|If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,|
One cordial in this melancholy vale,
Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,
In others arms breathe out the tender tale,
Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale!
Burns.Cotters Saturday Night, Verse 9.
|But pleasures are like poppies spread,|
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed!
Burns.Tam OShanter, Line 59.
|Or like the snow-fall in the river,|
A moment whitethen melts for ever.
Burns.Tam OShanter, Line 61.
|There is a pleasure in the pathless woods;|
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar.
Byron.Childe Harold, Canto IV. Stanza 178.