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CA P. Y V.
Bellarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Bel. A goodly day! not to keep house, with such Whose roof's as low as ours: see! boys, this gate Instructs
how ľadore the heav'ns: and bows
Guid. Hail Ileav'n!
hill, Your legs are young. I'll tread these flats. Consider, When
you , above, perceive me like a crow, That it is place which lessons and sets off: And you may
then revolve what tales I told you,
of him, that makes them fine , Yet keeps his book uncross'di-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 air's from home. Haply this life is best, If quiet life is best : sweeter to you, That have a sharper known; well corresponding
Ary. What should we speak of, When we are old as yon? 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 prisou'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, bs 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 I'th' name of fame and honour; which dies i' th
seareh And hath as oft a sland'rous epitaph, As record of fair act; nay, many times , Doth ill deserve, by doing well: what's worse Must curt'sy at the censure. -Oh, boys, this story The world might read in me: my body's mark'd With Roman swords; and my rep First with the best of note, Cymbeline lor'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
Guid. Uncertain favour!
oft * But that two villains (whose false oaths prevail'd
Before my perfect honour) swore to Cymbeline
my time.-But, up to the moun.
tains ! This is not hunters' language ; he that strikes The venison first , shall be the lord o'th' feast; To him the other iwo shall minister, And we will fear no poison, which attends In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the rallies. SHAKESPEARS. BOOK VII.
С НА Р. І.
Sensibility: DEAR Sensibility : source inexhausted of all that's precious in our joys, or costly in our sorrows; thou chainest the 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 --all comes from thee, great, great Sensoriam 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, Eugenius draws my curtain when 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 piteous inclination looking down upon it,--Oh! bad I come oire 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. CIA P. I I.
Liberly and Slavery. DISGUISE thyself as thou wilt, still, Sla very! still thou art a bitter draught; and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink of the, 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 than his monarch, from whose court thou art exiled. Gracious Heaven ! grant me but health , thou great Bestower of it, and give me but this fair goddess as my companjon ; 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 niy 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 fellow-creatures born to no inheritance but Slavery ; but finding, however affecting the picture was, that I could not bring it nearer ine, and that the multitude of sad groups in y did but distract me--