=Cupid.=

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind. 447 SHAKS.:  Mid.  N. Dream, Act i., Sc. 1.

Cupid is a casuist,
A mystic, and a cabalist,—­
Can your lurking thought surprise,
And interpret your device.... 
Heralds high before him run;
He has ushers many a one;
He spreads his welcome where he goes,
And touches all things with his rose. 
All things wait for and divine him,—­
How shall I dare to malign him?
448
EMERSON:  Daem. and Celes., Love, Pt. i.

=Cure.=

’T is an ill cure
For life’s worst ills, to have no time to feel them.
449
SIR HENRY TAYLOR:  Philip Van Artevelde, Pt. i., Act i., Sc. 5.

=Curfew.=

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
  The lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
  And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
450
GRAY:  Elegy, St. 1.

=Curiosity.=

I loathe that low vice, curiosity. 451 BYRON:  Don Juan, Canto i., St. 23.

=Curls.=

Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod,—­ The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god. 452 POPE:  Iliad, Bk. i., Line 684.

=Current.=

We must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.
453
SHAKS.:  Jul.  Caesar, Act iv., Sc. 3.

=Curses.=

Let this pernicious hour
Stand aye accursed in the calendar.
454
SHAKS.:  Macbeth, Act iv., Sc. 1.

But in their stead
Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
455
SHAKS.:  Macbeth, Act v., Sc. 3.

It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th’ eclipse, and rigg’d with curses dark. 456 MILTON:  Lycidas, Line 100.

=Custom.=

How use doth breed a habit in a man! 457 SHAKS.:  Two Gent. of V., Act v., Sc. 4.

Custom calls me to ’t;—­
What custom wills, in all things should we do ’t?
458
SHAKS.:  Coriolanus, Act ii., Sc. 3.

Assume a virtue, if you have it not. 
That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,
Of habits devil, is angel yet in this.
459
SHAKS.:  Hamlet, Act iii., Sc. 4

=Cypress.=

Dark tree! still sad when others’ grief is fled, The only constant mourner o’er the dead. 460 BYRON:  Giaour, Line 286.

==D.==

=Daffadills.=

Fair daffadills, we weep to see
  You haste away so soon: 
As yet the early rising sun
  Has not attained his noon.
461
HERRICK:  To Daffadills.

=Dagger.=

Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand?...
                  or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
462
SHAKS.:  Macbeth, Act ii., Sc. 1