=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