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that which inflames the breast of the connoisseur, has led me from my own house into France, and from France will lead me through Italy, 'tis a quiet journey of the heart in pursuit of Nature, and those affections which rise out of her, which make us love each other, and the world, better than we do. The Count said a great many civil things to me upon the occasion; and added, very politely, how much he stood obliged to Shakespeare for making me known to him, but apropos, said he, Shakespeare is full of great things. He forgot a small punctillo of announcing your name, it puts you under the necessity of doing it yourself.

THE PASSPORT.

VERSAILLES.

THERE is not a more perplexing affair in life to me, than to set about telling any one who I am, for there is scarce any body I cannot give a better account of, than of myself; I have often wished I could do it in a single word, and have an end of it. It was the only time and occasion in my life I could accomplish this to any purpose, for Shakespeare lying upon the table, and recollecting I was in his books, I took up Hamlet, and turning immediately to the grave digger's scene in the fifth act, I laid my finger upon YORICK, and advancing the book to the Count, with my finger all the way over the name-Me voici ! said I.

Now whether the idea of Yorick's skull was poor put out of the Count's mind, by the reality of my own, or by what magic he could drop a period of seven or eight hundred years, makes nothing in this account, 'tis certain the French conceive better than they combine, I wonder at nothing in this world,

and the less at this; inasmuch as one of the first of our own church, for whose candour and paternal sentiments I have the highest veneration, fell into the same mistake in the very same case. "He

could not bear, he said, to look into sermons wrote by the King of Denmark's jester." Good my Lord! said 1---but there are two Yoricks. The Yorick your Lordship thinks of, has been dead and buried eight hundred years ago: he flourished in Horwendillus's court, the other Yorick is myself, who have flourished, my Lord, in no court. He shook his head, Good God said I, you might as well confound Alexander the Great, with Alexander the Copper-smith, my Lord,-- Twas all one, he replied.

If Alexander King of Macedon could have translated your Lordship, said I, I am sure your Lordship would not have said so.

The poor Count de B**** fell but into the same

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-Et Monsieur est il Yorick? cried the Count, ---Je le suis, said I---Vous ?---Moi---moi qui ai l'honneur de vous prler, Monsieur le Comte-- Mon Dieu! said he, embracing me---Vous êtez Yorick!

The Count instantly put the Shakespeare into his pocket, and left me alone in the room.

THE PASSPORT.

VERSAILLES.

I COULD not conceive why the Count de B**** had gone so abruptly out of the room, any more than I could conceive why he had put the Shakspeare into his pocket Mysteries which must explain themselves, are not worth the loss of time which a conjecture about them takes up: 'twas better to read

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Shakespeare; so taking up "Much ado about Nothing," I transported myself instantly from the chair I sat in to Messina, in Scily, and got so busy with Don Pedro and Benedick and Beatrice, that I thought not of Versailles, the Count, or the passport.

Sweet pliability of man's spirit, that can at once surrender itself to illusions, which cheat expectation and sorrow of their weary moments!-Long- long since had ye numbered out my days, had I not trod so great a part of them upon this enchanted ground: when my way is too rough for my feet, or too steep for my strength, I get off it, to some smooth velvet patch which Fancy has scattered over with rosebuds of delights; and, having taken a few turns in it, come back strengthened and refreshed---When evils press sore upon me, and there is no retreat from them in this world, then I take a new course, I leave it, and as I have a clearer idea of the Elysian fields than I have of heaven, I force myself, like Eneas, into them, I see him meet the pensive shade of his forsaken Dido, and wish to recognise it, I see the injured spirit wave her head, and turn off silent from the author of her miseries and dishonour, I lose the feelings for myself in her's, and in those affections which were wont to make me mourn for her when I was at school.

Surely this is not walking in a vain shadow, nor does man disquiet himself in vain by it, he oftener does so in trusting the issue of his commotions to reason only. I can safely say for myself, I was never able to conquer any one single bad sensation in my heart so decisively, as beating up as fast as I could for some kindly and gentle sensation, to fight it upon its own ground.

When I had got to the end of the third act, the Count de B**** entered, with my passport in his hand Mons. le Duc de C****, said the Count, is as good a prophet, I dare say, as he is a statesman, Un homme qui rit, said the Duke, ne sera jamais dangereux. Had it been for any one but the king's jester, added the Count, I could not have got it these two hours, Pardonnez moi, Mons. le Count, said I, I am not the king's jester, but you are Yorick? Yes, Et vous plaisantez? answered, indeed I did jest, but was not paid for it, it was entirely at my own expense.

We have no jester at Court, Mons. le Count, said I, the last we had was in the licentious reign of Charles II.---since which time our manners have been so gradually refining, that our court, at present, is so full of patriots, who wish for nothing but the honours and wealth of their country, and our ladies are all so chaste, so spotless, so good, so devout, there is nothing for a jester to make a jest of. Voila un persiflage! cried the Count.

THE PASSPORT.

VERSAILLES.

As the passport was directed to all lieutenant-governors, governors, and commandants of cities, generals of armies, justiciaries, and all officers of justice, to let Mr. Yorick, the king's jester, and his baggage, travel quietly along, I own the triumph of obtaining the passport was not a little tarnished by the figure I cut in it---But there is nothing unmixed in this world; and some of the gravest of our divines have carried it so far as to affirm, that enjoyment itself was attended even with a sigh, and that the greatest they knew of terminated in a eneral way, in little better than a convulsion.

I remember the grave and learned Bevoriskius, in his commentary upon the generations from Adam, very naturally breaks off, in the middle of a note, to give an account to the world of a couple of sparrows upon the out edge of his window, which had incommoded him all the time he wrote, and at last entirely taken him off from his genealogy.

It is strange writes Bevoriskius; but the facts are certain, for I have had the curiosity to mark them down one by one with my pen, but the cocksparrow, during the little time that I could have finished the other half of this note, has actually interrupted me with the reiteration of his caresses three-and twenty times and an half.

How merciful, adds Bevoriskius, is Heaven to his creatures!

Ill-fated Yorick! that the gravest of thy brethren should be able to write that to the world, which stains thy face with crimson, to copy even in thy study.

But this is nothing to my travels. So I twice, beg pardon for it.

CHARACTER.

VERSAILLES.

AND how do you find the French? said the Count de B****, after he had given me the passport.

The reader may suppose that, after so obliging a proof of courtesy, I could not be at a loss to say something handsome to the inquiry.

Mais passe, pour cela, Speak frankly said he; do you find all the urbanity in the French which the world give us the honour of? I had found every thing, I said, which confirmed it, Vraiment, said the Count, les François sont polis. To an excess, replied I.

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