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Dejection. I have to offer. The misfortune I have lain under,

these six years, of your Majesty's displeasure, has rendered life so insipid to me, that, besides the honour of losing it in your Majesty's service, the prospect of an end being by death put to my vexations, makes

the thought of my dissolution pleasing to me. If it submission, should seem good to your Majesty to finish my dis

tresses the other way, I mean by your most gracious pardon, the obligation will be still greater; and to the zeal I have for your Majesty's interest, I shall think myself obliged to add gratitude suitable to so important a favour. May heaven touch the heart of

your Majesty, that you may at last forgive your sinHumble re- cerely penitent subject. No one knows better than

your Majesty that it is as great to forgive as to punish. If I alone am dooined to have no benefit from that goodness, which extends to so many, my lot must be peculiarly calamitous.




Part of Socrates's speech to Montaigne, translated from the

French “ Dialogues of the Dead." Teaching. Antiquity is an object of a peculiar sort : distance

magnifies it. If you had been personally acquainted with Aristotle, Phocion, and me, you would have found nothing in us very different from what you may find in people of your own age. What com

monly prejudices us in favour of antiquity is, that Disappro- we are prejudiced against our own times. We raise

the ancients, that we may depress the moderns. When we ancients were alive, we esteemed our ancestors more than they deserved. And our posterity esteem us more than we deserve. But the very truth of the matter is, our ancestors, and we and our posterity, are all very much alike.


Lamenta. tion,

IX.-A LOVE-SICK SHEPHERD'S COMPLAINT. Ah-well-a-day how long must I endure This pining pain ?! Or who shall speed my cure ? Fond love no cure will have ; seeks no repose ; Anguish. Delights in grief, nor any measure knows. Lo! now the moon begins in clouds to rise, Complaint. The bright'ning stars bespangle all the skies, The winds are hush’d; the dews distil ; and sleep Hath clos'd the eyelids of my weary sheep. 3 I only with the prowling wolf constrain’d

Auguish. 4 All night to wake. With hunger he is pain d, And I with love. His hunger he may tame; But who can quench,5 O cruel love ! thy flame? Whilom did I, all as this poplar fair, Uprise my heedless head, devoid of care; 'Mong rustic routs the chief for wanton game; Nor could they merry make, till Lobbin came. Who better seen than I in shepherd's arts, To please the lads, and win the lasses' hearts? How deftly to mine oaten reed so sweet Wont they upon the green to shift their feet ! And wearied in the dance how would they yearn Some well-devised tale from me to learn ! For many a song, and tale of mirth, had I To chase the loit’ring sun adown the sky. But ah! since Lucy coy deep wrought her spite Within my heart, unmindful of delight, The jolly youths I fly; and all alone To rocks and woods


fruitless moan.


1 The words pining pain cannot be spoken too slovely.

2 These four lines are to be spoken slowly, and with a torpid uniformity of tone.

The speaker is to seem roused here, as by a sudden pang. 4 These four words to express extreme anguish.

5 A stop before and after the words, O cruel lore, which are to be expressed with exclamation of anguish.


Deprecation Oh! leave thy cruelty, relentless fair,

Ere, lingering long, I perish through despair.
Complaint. Had Rosalind been mistress of my mind,

Though not so fair, she would have prov'd more kind.
Oh, think, unwitting maid! while yet is time,
How flying years impair the youthful prime!
Thy virgin bloom will not for ever stay,
And flow'rs, though left ungather'd, will decay.
The flow'rs, anew, returning seasons bring;

But faded beauty has no second spring ;
Despair. My words are wind !-She, deaf to all my cries,
Takes pleasure in the mischief of her eyes.

A. Philips.



Jupiter forbids the gods and goddesses taking any part in the

contention between the Greeks and Trojans. Narration. AURORA now, fair daughter of the dawn,

Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn;
When Jove conven'd the senate of the skies,

Where high Olympus' cloudy tops arise,
Awe. The sire of gods his awful silence broke ;

The heav'ns attentive trembled as he spoke : Authority. “ Celestial states! immortal gods! give ear;? Hear our decree; and rev'rence what

ye The fix'd decree, which not all heav'n can move ;

Thou Fate! fulfil it; and ye, Pow'rs, approve,
Threatening What god shall enter yon forbidden field,

Who yields assistance, or but wills to yield.
Back to the skies with shame he shall be driv'n
Gash'd with dishonest wounds, the scorn of heav'n;


1 A long pause.

2 There are three pretty long pauses to be made in this line, at the words stutes, gods, and ear.

Or from our sacred hill with fury thrown

Threatening. Deep, in the dark Tartarean gulph shall groan; With burning chains fix'd to the brazen floors, And lock'd by hell's inexorable doors ; As deep beneath th' infernal centre hurld, As from that centre to th' ethereal world. Let each submissive, dread those dire abodes, Nor tempt the vengeance of the god of gods. League all your forces, then, ye pow'rs above; Challenging. Your strength unite against the might of Jove. Let down our golden everlasting chain, Whose strong embrace holds heav'n and earth and

Strive all, of mortal and immortal birth,
To drag by this the thund'rer down to earth.
Ye strive in vain. If I but stretch this hand, Contempt.
I heave the gods, the ocean,

the land,
I fix the chain to great Olympus' height,
And the rast world hangs trembling in my sight.
For such I reign unbounded, and above;
And such are men, and gods, compar'd to Jove."


Honour and shame, from no condition rise;

Teaching Act well your part ; there all the honour lies. Fortune in men has some small diff'rence made; One flaunts in rags; one flutters in brocade ; The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd; The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd. What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl ? Questioning. "I'll tell you, friend! A wise man and a fool. Inforining.

1 This line (“I'll tell you, friend,” &c.) may be expressed in a sort of important half-whisper, and with significant looks and nods, as if a grand secret was told.

Teaching. You'll find, if once the wise man acts the monk;

Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk ; Approbation Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow : Contempt. The rest all but leather or prunella. Boast the


blood of an illustrious race
In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece:
But by your father's worth, if yours you rate,
Count me those only, who were good and great.
Go! if your ancient but ignoble blood
Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood:
Go! and pretend, your family is young ;
Nor own, your fathers have been fools so long.
What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards ?
Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.

Look next on greatness. Say, where greatness lies? Questioning Where, but among the heroes and the wise.

Heroes are much the same, it is agreed,

From Macedonia's madman to the Swede.
Contempt. The whole strange purpose of their lives to find,

Or make—an enemy of all mankind.
Not one looks backwards ; onward still he goes ;
Yet ne'er looks forward, farther than his nose.
No less alike the politic and wise ;
All sly, slow things, with circumspective eyes.
Men in their loose, unguarded hours they take;
Not that themselves are wise ; but others weak.
But grant that those can conquer; these can cheat ;

'Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great. Aversion, Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave,

Is but the more a fool, the more a knave. Approbation Who noble ends by noble means obtains,

Or, failing, smiles in exile, or in chains,


Remon. strance.

1 I have put a pause after make, though contrary to general rules, to mark the antithesis between find and make more distinctly.

2 " All sly, slow things," to be pronounced very slowly, and with a cunning look.

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