Surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
For, being not propped by ancestry, whose grace
Chalks successors their way, nor called upon
For high feats done to th' crown, neither allied
To eminent assistants, but spiderlike
Out of his self-drawing web, 'a gives us note,
The force of his own merit makes his way,
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the king.
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Merit is much more cheaply acknowledged than rewarded
Merit is much more cheaply acknowledged than rewarded
The sufficiency of merit is to know that my merit is not
sufficient.
The sufficiency of merit is to know that my merit is not
sufficient.
He merits no thanks who does a kindness for his own ends
He merits no thanks who does a kindness for his own ends
The world rewards the appearance of merit oftener than merit
itself.
[Fr., Le monde recompense plus souvent les read more
The world rewards the appearance of merit oftener than merit
itself.
[Fr., Le monde recompense plus souvent les apparences de merite
que le merite meme.]
There's a proud modesty in merit; averse from asking, and resolved to pay ten times the gifts it asks.
There's a proud modesty in merit; averse from asking, and resolved to pay ten times the gifts it asks.
There is merit without elevation, but there is no elevation
without some merit.
[Fr., Il y a du read more
There is merit without elevation, but there is no elevation
without some merit.
[Fr., Il y a du merite sans elevation mais il n'y a point
d'elevation sans quelque merite.]
Speak little and well if you wish to be esteemed a person of merit.
Speak little and well if you wish to be esteemed a person of merit.
The favor of princes does not preclude the existence of merit,
and yet does not prove that it exists.
read more
The favor of princes does not preclude the existence of merit,
and yet does not prove that it exists.
[Fr., La faveur des princes n'exclut pas le merite, et ne le
suppose pas aussi.]
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
read more
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?
