What though my winged hours of bliss have been,
Like angel-visits, few and far between.
The Pleasures of Hope, Pt.  II.  T. CAMPBELL.

ANGER.

                          Anger is like
  A full-hot horse; who being allowed his way,
  Self-mettle tires him.
King Henry VIII., Act i.  Sc 1.  SHAKESPEARE.

Being once chased, he cannot
Be reined again to temperance; then he speaks
What’s in his heart.
Coriolanus, Act iii.  Sc. 3.  SHAKESPEARE.

I am very sorry, good Horatio,
That to Laertes I forgot myself,

* * * * *

But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me
Into a towering passion.
Hamlet, Act v.  Sc. 2.  SHAKESPEARE.

Senseless, and deformed,
Convulsive Anger storms at large; or, pale
And silent, settles into fell revenge.
The Seasons:  Spring.  J. THOMSON.

                           Be advised;
  Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
  That it do singe yourself:  we may outrun. 
  By violent swiftness, that which we run at,
  And lose by over-running.
King Henry VIII., Act i.  Sc. 1.  SHAKESPEARE.

Never anger made good guard for itself. Antony and Cleopatra, Act iv.  Sc. 1.  SHAKESPEARE.

ANGLING.

  All’s fish they get
  That cometh to net.
Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry.  T. TUSSER.

In genial spring, beneath the quivering shade,
Where cooling vapors breathe along the mead,
The patient fisher takes his silent stand,
Intent, his angle trembling in his hand;
With looks unmoved, he hopes the scaly breed,
And eyes the dancing cork, and bending reed.
Windsor Forest.  A. POPE.

                           Now is the time,
  While yet the dark-brown water aids the guile,
  To tempt the trout.  The well-dissembled fly,
  The rod fine tapering with elastic spring,
  Snatched from the hoary steed the floating line,
  And all thy slender wat’ry stores prepare.
The Seasons:  Spring.  J. THOMSON.

Just in the dubious point, where with the pool
Is mixed the trembling stream, or where it boils
Around the stone, or from the hollowed bank
Reverted plays in undulating flow,
There throw, nice judging, the delusive fly;
And as you lead it round in artful curve,
With eye attentive mark the springing game. 
Straight as above the surface of the flood
They wanton rise, or urged by hunger leap,
Then fix, with gentle twitch, the barbed hook: 
Some lightly tossing to the grassy bank,
And to the shelving shore slow-dragging some,
With various hand proportioned to their force.

  Give me mine angle, we’ll to the river; there,
  My music playing far off, I will betray
  Tawny-finned fishes; my bended hook shall pierce
  Their shiny jaws.
Antony and Cleopatra, Act ii. Sc. 5.  SHAKESPEARE.