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Cal. I am glad that my weak words
Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.

Shakspeare.

CHAP. XV.

BELLARIUS, GUIDERIUS, AND ARV1RAGUS.

Bel. A GOODLY day! not to keep house, with such. Whose roofs as low F.s ours: see! boys, this gate Instruct you how t' adore the heav'ns; and bows you To morning's holy office. Gates of monarchs Are arch'd so high, that giants may jet throng!i, And keep their impious turbans on, without Good morrow to the sun. Hail thou fair heav'n! We house i' th' re- k, yet use thee not so hardly As prouder livers do.

Quid. Hail, Heav'n!

Arv. Hail , Heav'n!

Bel. Now for our mmrrtflffn sport, up to yond hill,
Your legs are young. I'il,rread these flats. Consider,.
When you, above, perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which lessens and sets off:
And you may then revolve what tales' I told you,
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war;
Thnt service is not service, so being done,
But being so allow'd. To apprehend thus, -.

Draws us a profit from all things we see;
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded beetle in a safer hold,
Thafi is the full-wing'd eagle. Oh, this life
Is nobler than attending for a check;

Richer, than doing nothing for a bauble; ,.

Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk.

Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd :—no life to ours.

Guid. Out of your proof you speak; we, poor, unfledg'd,
Have never wing'd from view o' th' nest; nor know
What airs from home. Haply this life is best,
If quiet life is best; sweeter to you,
That have a sharper known; well correspon ding
With your stiff age: but unto us, it is
A cell of ign'rance; travelling a-bed i
A prison, for a debtor that not dares
To stride a limit.

Arv. What should we speak of, - ,
When we are old as you? When we shall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December? how,
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing;
We're beastly; subtle as the fox for prey,
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat.
Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage
We make a choir, as doth the prison'd bird,
And sing our bondage freely.

Bel. How you speak!
Did you but know the city's usuries,
And felt them knowingly; the art o' th' court,
As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb,
Is certain falling; or so slipp'ry, that
The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of war;
A pain that only seems to seek out danger
J' th' name of fame and honour; which dies i' th' search,
And hath as oft a sland'rous epitaph,
As record of fair act; nay, many time,
Doth ill deserve, by doing well : what's worse
Must eurt'sy at the censure.—Oh, boys, this story
The world might read in me; my body's mark'd
With Roman swords; and my report was once
First with the best of note. Cymbeline lov'd me;
And when a soldier was the theme, my name

Was not far off: then was I as a tree,

Whose boughs did bend with fruit. But in one night,

A storm, or robbery, ca!5 it what you will,

Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves;

And left me bare to weather.

Guid. Uncertain favour!

Bel. My fault being nothing, as I have told oft. But that two villians (whose false oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour) swore to Cymbeline. I was confed'rate with the Romans : so Follow'd my banishment; and, these twenty years, This rock and thes» demesnes have been my world; Where I have liv'd at honest freedom; paid More pious debts to Heaven, than in all The fore-end of my time—But, up to th' mountains! This is not hunter's language; he that strikes The venison first, shall be the lord o' th' feast; To him the other two shall minister, And we v/ill fear no poison, which attends In place of greater state> I'll meet you in the valleys.

Shakspeare.

BOOK VII.

DESCRIPTIVE PIBCFS.

CHAP. I.

SENSIBILITY.

DEAR Sensibility! source inexhausted of all that's precious in our joys, or costly in our sorrows! thou chainest thy martyr down upon his bed of straw, and it is thou who liftest him up to Heaven. Eternal Fountain of our feelings ! It is here I trace thee, and this is thy divinity which stirs within me: not, that in some sad and sickening moments, ' my soul shrinks back upon herself, and startles at destruction'—mere pomp of words!—but that I feel some generous joys and generous cares beyond myself—air comes from thee, great, great Sensorinm of the world ! which vibrates, if a hair of our head but falls upon the ground, in the remotest "desert of thy creation. Touched with thee, Eugeuius draws my curtain w)ien I languish; hears, my tale of symptoms, and blames the weather for the disorder of his nerves. Thou givest'a portion of it sometimes to the roughest peasant who traverses the bleakest mountains. He finds the lacerated lamb of another's flock. This moment I beheld him leaning with his head against his crook, with pilecms inclination looking down upon it—Oh! had I come one moment sooner!—it bleeds to death—his gentle heart bleeds with it.

Peace to thee, generous swain ! 'I see thou walkest off with anguish—but thy joys shall balance it ; for happy is thy cottage, and happy is the sharer of it, and happy are the lambs which sport about you.

Sterne.

CHAT1, II.
LIBERTY AND SLAVERY.

DISGUISE thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery! still thou art a bitter draught; and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that account. It is thou, Liberty, thrice sweet and gracious goddess, whom all in public or in private worship, whose taste is grateful, and ever will be so,

till nature herself shall change no tint of words can

spot thy snowy mantle, or chymic power turn thy sceptre into iron with thee to smile upon him as he eats

his crust, the swain is happier tha-i his monarch, from whose court thou art exiled. Gracious Heaten'. grant me but health, thou great Bestower of it, and give me but this fair goddess as my companion ; 'and shower down thy mitres, if it seems good unto thy divine providence, upon those heads which are aching for them.

Pursuing these ideas, I sat down close by my table, and leaning my head upon my hand, I began to figure to myself the miseries of confinement. I was in a right frame for it, and so I gave full scope to my imagination.

I was going to begin with the millions of my fellowcreatures born to no inheritance but slavery; but finding,

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