(So many of the quotations are from poetry that these will be printed as verse rather than, as in the preceding exercises, in continuous lines like prose.)

Affront, insult, indignity.

  A moral, sensible, and well-bred man
  Will not affront me,—­and no other can. 
    An old affront will stir the heart
    Through years of rankling pain.

The way to procure insults is to submit to them.  A man meets with no more respect than he exacts.

It is often better not to see an insult than to avenge it.

Even a hare, the weakest of animals, may insult a dead lion.

To a native of rank, arrest was not merely a restraint, but a foul personal indignity.

Dishonor, disgrace, ignominy, infamy, obloquy, opprobrium.

  His honor rooted in dishonor stood,
  And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.

It is hard to say which of the two we ought most to lament,—­the unhappy man who sinks under the sense of his dishonor, or him who survives it.

  Could he with reason murmur at his case
  Himself sole author of his own disgrace?

Whatever disgrace we may have deserved, it is almost always in our power to re-establish our character.

  When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes
  I all alone beweep my outcast state.

Their generals have been received with honor after their defeat; yours with ignominy after conquest.

Wilful perpetuations of unworthy actions brand with most indelible characters of infamy the name and memory to posterity.

And when his long public life, so singularly chequered with good and evil, with glory and obloquy, bad at length closed forever, it was to Daylesford that he retired to die.

Great opprobrium has been thrown on her name.

Fame, honor, renown, glory, distinction, reputation, repute, celebrity, eminence, notoriety.

  Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
  Live register’d upon our brazen tombs.

Men have a solicitude about fame; and the greater share they have of it, the more afraid they are of losing it.

Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, . . . . . . . .  But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes And perfect witness of all-judging Jove; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed.

  When faith is lost, when honor dies,
  The man is dead.

  Act well your part; there all the honor lies.

The Athenians erected a large statue of Aesop, and placed him, though a slave, on a lasting pedestal, to show that the way to honor lies open indifferently to all.

  I could not love thee, dear, so much,
  Loved I not honor more.