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Both ways deceitful is the wine of power;
When new 'tis heady, and when old 'tis sour.
WALTER HARTE.

But see, how oft ambitious aims are crost;
And chiefs contend till all the prize is lost.

Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell,
Aspiring to be angels, men rebel.

POPE.

POPE.

The fiery soul abhorr'd in Catiline,
In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine :
The same ambition can destroy or save,
And make a patriot, as it makes a knave.

POPE.

She points the arduous height where glory lies,
And teaches mad ambition to be wise.

POPE.

In vain for life he to the altar fled;
Ambition and revenge have certain speed.
PRIOR.

Thy cruel and unnatural lust of power In me, as yet, ambition had no part; Has sunk thy father more than all his years, Pride had not sour'd, nor wrath debased, my And made him wither in a green old age.

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'Tis a common proof, That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, Whereto the climber upward turns his face :

They ween'd To win the mount of God, and on his throne To set the envier of his state, the proud Aspirer; but their thoughts proved fond and vain. But when he once attains the upmost round,

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Of all the passions which possess the soul,
None so disturb vain mortals' minds
As vain ambition, which so blinds

The light of them, that nothing can control
Nor curb their thoughts who will aspire.

EARL OF STIRLING: Darius.

Well I deserved Evadne's scorn to prove, That to ambition sacrificed my love.

WALLER.

Alas! ambition makes my little less, Embitt'ring the possess'd: why wish for more? Wishing of all employments is the worst; Philosophy's reverse, and health's decay!

YOUNG: Night Thoughts.

ANCESTRY.

Heralds stickle, who got whoSo many hundred years ago.

BUTLER: Hudibras.

He that to ancient wreaths can bring no more From his own worth, dies bankrupt on the score. JOHN CLEAVELAND.

'Twas no false heraldry when madness drew Her pedigree from those who too much knew. SIR J. DENHAM.

Were virtue by descent, a noble name
Could never villanize his father's fame;
But, as the first, the last of all the line
Would, like the sun, ev'n in descending, shine.
DRYDEN.

Vain are their hopes who fancy to inherit,
By trees of pedigree, or fame or merit;
Though plodding heralds through each branch
may trace

Old captains and dictators of their race.

DRYDEN.

Long galleries of ancestors Challenge nor wonder or esteem from me: "Virtue alone is true nobility."

DRYDEN.

Do then as your progenitors have done,
And by their virtues prove yourself their son.
DRYDEN.

Thus, born alike, from virtue first began
The diffrence that distinguish'd man from man:
He claim'd no title from descent of blood;
But that which made him noble, made him good.
DRYDEN.

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