the thinly-stationed foe. And soon our art so well avail'd, that now at Snowdon's foot full twenty troops of hardy veterans wait to call my sire their leader.
TO NICHOLAS EMPEROR OF RUSSIA, ON HIS RE- PORTED CONDUCT TOWARDS THE POLES
HAT would it help to call thee what thou art? when all is spoken, thou remainest still with the same power and the same evil will to crush a nation's life out, to dispart
all holiest ties, to turn away and thwart all courses that kind nature keeps, to spill the blood of noblest veins, to maim, or kill with torture of slow pain the aching heart. When our weak hands hang useless, and we feel deeds cannot be, who then would ease his breast with the impotence of words? but our appeal is unto Him, who counts a nation's tears, with whom are the oppressor and opprest, and vengeance, and the recompensing years.
Am. BLAME in heaven only mine own star: but one that hath deceived me more by far.
Nic. Then blame thyself: thyself thou didst deceive. Am. I did, when I a cozener did believe.
Nic. They who desire to be deceived are not.
Am. Dost think me naught? Nic. Nay ask thy actions
Am. Actions are oft false comments on our hearts.
Nic. Yet those we see and not the inward parts.
Am. The heart may be seen too with th' eyes o' th' mind.
Nic. Without the senses help those eyes are blind.
Am. The senses must submit to reason's sway. Nic. Reason in point of fact must sense obey. Am. Well, I am sure an honest heart I have. Nic. Prythee who brought thee then unto the cave? Am. My folly and too much credulity.
Nic. Thou trustedst with a friend thy honesty? Am. I trusted a friend's honesty. Nic. Thy blood?
was that the friend thou wouldst have understood? Am. Ormino's sister, who betrayed me hither. Nic. 'Tis sweet when lovers are betrayed together. Am. Mirtillo entered without my consent.
Nic. How entered'st thou then and for what intent? Am. Let this suffice: 'twas not for him I came. Nic. It cannot, if no other cause thou name. Am. Examine him about my innocence.
Nic. Him who hath been the cause of thy offence! Am. Call to her witness who betrayed our path. Nic. Why should we hear a witness without faith? Am. By chaste Diana's dreadful name I swear. Nic. Thou by thy deeds are perjured unto her.
WHAT mean you, Cæsar? think you to walk forth?
you shall not stir out of your house today.
Cæs. Cæsar shall forth; the things that threatened me ne'er looked but on my back; when they shall see the face of Cæsar, they are vanished.
Cal. Cæsar, I never stood on ceremonies,
yet now they fright me. There is one within, besides the things that we have heard and seen, recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. A lioness hath whelpéd in the streets;
and graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead; fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds, in ranks and squadrons and right form of war, which drizzled blood upon the Capitol;
the noise of battle hurtled in the air,
horses did neigh, and dying men did groan;
and ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets. O Cæsar, these things are beyond all use, and I do fear them!
What can be avoided whose end is purpos'd by the mighty gods? yet Cæsar shall go forth: for these predictions are to the world in general as to Cæsar.
Cal. When beggars die, there are no comets seen;
the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes. Cæs. Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders, that I yet have heard,
it seems to me most strange that men should fear; seeing that death, a necessary,
will come when it will come.
ADAM I'm well assured, you will not send one poor thought after me, much less a mes- senger,
to know the truth; but if you do, he'll find, in some unfinish'd part of the creation, where Night and Chaos never were disturb'd, but bed-rid lie in some dark rocky desert, there will he find a thing-whether a man, or the collected shadows of the desert condens'd into a shade, he 'll hardly know; this figure he will find walking alone, poring one while on some sad book at noon by taper-light, for never day shone there: sometimes laid grovelling on the barren earth, moist with his tears, for never dew fell there: and when night comes, not known from day by dark-
but by some faithful messenger of time,
he 'll find him stretcht upon a bed of stone, cut from the bowels of some rocky cave, offering himself either to Sleep or Death; and neither will accept the dismal wretch: at length a Slumber, in its infant arms, takes up his heavy soul, but wanting strength to bear it, quickly lets it fall again;
at which the wretch starts up, and walks about all night, and all the time it should be day; till quite forgetting, quite forgot of every thing but Sorrow, pines away, and in small time of the only man that durst inhabit there, becomes the only Ghost that dares walk there.
EXHORTATION TO CONTENTMENT
HADST only thou of all mankind been born
to walk in paths untroubled with a thorn, from the first hour that gave thee vital air consigned to pleasure and exempt from care: heedless to wile away the day and night in one unbroken banquet of delight, pamper each ruling sense, secure from ill, and own no law superior to thy will; if partial heaven had ever sworn to give this happy right as thy prerogative,
then blame the gods, and call thy life the worst, thyself of all mankind the most accurst! but if with us the common air you draw, subject alike to nature's general law, and on thy head an equal portion fall of life's afflicting weight imposed on all, take courage from necessity, and try boldly to meet the foe thou canst not fly. Thou art a man like others doomed to feel the quick descent of Fortune's giddy wheel; weak human race! we strive to soar from sight with wings unfitted to the daring flight;
restless each fleeting object to obtain,
we lose in minutes what in years we gain.
But why should'st thou, my honour'd friend, repine? no grief peculiar or unknown is thine!
though Fortune smile no more as once she smiled, nor pour her gifts on thee, her favourite child, patient and firm, the present ill redress, nor, by despairing, make thy little less.
ADAM'S DISCOURSE WITH EVE
OW came still Evening on, and Twilight grey had in her sober livery all things clad; silence accompanied; for beast and bird, they to their grassy couch, these to their nests were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale; she all night long her amorous descant sung;
silence was pleased: now glowed the firmament with living sapphire: Hesperus, that led
the starry host, rode brightest, till the moon, rising in clouded majesty, at length
apparent queen unveiled her peerless light, and o'er the dark her silver mantle threw ;- "To morrow, ere fresh morning streak the east with first approach of light, we must be risen, and at our pleasant labour, to reform yon flowery arbours, yonder alleys green, our walk at noon, with branches overgrown, that mock our scant manuring, and require
more hands than ours to lop their wanton growth. Those blossoms also, and those dropping gums, that lie bestrown, unsightly and unsmooth, ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; meanwhile, as Nature wills, night bids us rest." To whom thus Eve, with perfect beauty adorned:- “My author and disposer, what thou biddest unargued I obey: so God ordains:
God is thy law, thou mine; to know no more is woman's happiest knowledge, and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time;
all seasons and their change, all please alike.
THE CHARACTER OF GERMANICUS
CAIUS SILIUS-LUCIUS ARRUNTIUS
HE was a man most like to virtue; in all
and every action, nearer to the gods,
than men, in nature; of a body as fair as was his mind; and no less reverend in face, than fame: he could so use his state, tempering his greatness with his gravity, as it avoided all self-love in him,
and spight in others. What his funerals lack'd in images and pomp, they had supply'd with honourable sorrow, soldiers' sadness, a kind of silent mourning, such as men (who know no tears, but from their captives) use to shew in so great losses. Arr. I am sure
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