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It seems to me most strange, that men should fear;
There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
O momentary grace of mortal men,
Who shall go about
To cozen fortune, and be honourable
Were not derived corruptly; that clear honour
Oh who can hold a fire in his hand
Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue:
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
To morrow, and to morrow, and to morrow, Creeps in this petty space from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusky death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more! It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
A DERVISE, travelling through Tartary, being arrived at the town of Balk, went into the king's palace by mistake, as thinking it to be a public inn or caravansary. Having looked about him for some time, he entered into a long gallery, where he laid down his wallet, and spread his carpet, in order to repose himself upon it after the manner of the eastern nations. He had not been long in this posture, before he was discovered by some of the guards, who asked him what was his business in that place. The dervise told them he intended to take up his night's lodging in that caravansary. The guards let him know, in a very angry manner, that the house he was in was not a caravansary, but the king's palace. It happened that the king himself passed through the gallery -during this debate, and, smiling at the mistake of the dervise, asked him how he could possibly be so dull as not to distinguish a palace from a caravansary. Sir, says the dervise, give me leave to ask your majesty a question or two. Who were the persons that lodged in this house when it was first built? The king replied, his ancestors. And who, says the dervise, was the last person that lodged here? The king replied, his father. And who is it, says the dervise, that lodges here at present? The king told him, that it was he
himself. And who, says the dervise, will be here after you? The king answered, the young prince his son. Ah, Sir! said the dervise, a house that changes it's inhabitants so often, and receives such a perpetual succession of guests, is not a palace, but a caravansary. SPECTATOR.
A TURKISH TALE..
WE are told that the Sultan Mahmoud, by his perpetual wars abroad, and his tyranny at home, had filled his dominions with ruin and desolation, and half unpeopled the Persian empire. The visier to this great sultan (whether a hu morist or an enthusiast, we are not informed) pretended to have learned of a certain dervise to understand the language of birds, so that there was not a bird that could open his mouth, but the visier knew what it was he said. As he was one evening with the emperor, in their return from hunting, they saw a couple of owls upon a tree that grew near an old wall out of a heap of rubbish. I would fain know, says the sultan, what those two owls are saying to one another-listen to their discourse, and give me an account of it. The visier approached the tree, pretending to be very attentive to the two owls. Upon his return to the sultan, Sir, says he, I have heard part of their conversation, but dare not tell you what it is. The sultan would not be satisfied with such an answer, but forced him to repeat, word for word, every thing the owls had said: You must know, then, said the visier, that one of these owls has a son, and the other a daughter, between whom they are now upon a treaty of marriage. The father of the son said to the father of the daughter, in my hearing, brother, I con- . sent to this marriage, provided you. will settle upon your daughter fifty ruined villages for her portion. To which the father of the daughter replied, instead of fifty I will give her five hundred, if you please. God grant a long life to Sultan Mahmoud; while he reigns over us we shall never want ruined villages.
The story says, the sultan was so touched with the fable,,
that he rebuilt the towns and villages which had been destroyed, and from that time forward consulted the good of his people. SPECTATOR.
AVARICE AND LUXURY.
THERE were two very powerful tyrants engaged in a perpetual war against each other: the name of the first was Luxury, and of the second, Avarice. The aim of each of them was no less than universal monarchy over the hearts of mankind. Luxury had many generals under him, who did him great service, as Pleasure, Mirth, Pomp, and Fashion. Avarice was likewise very strong in his officers, being faithfully served by Hunger, Industry, Care, and Watchfulness: he had likewise a privy counsellor, who was always at his elbow, and whispering something or other in his ear: the name of this privy counsellor was Poverty. As Avarice conducted himself by the counsels of Poverty, his antagonist was entirely guided by the dictates and advice of Plenty, who was his first counsellor and minister of state, that concerted all his measures for him, and never departed out of his sight. While these two great rivals were thus contending for empire, their conquests were very various. Luxury got possession of one heart, and Avarice of another. The father of a family would often range himself under the banners of Avarice, and the son under those of Luxury. The wife and husband would often declare themselves of the two different parties; nay, the same person would very often side with one in his youth, and revolt to the other in his old age. Indeed, the wise men of the world stood neuter; but, alas! their numbers were not considerable. At length, when these two potentates had wearied themselves with waging war upon one another, they agreed upon an interview, at which neither of their counsellors was to be present. It is said, that Luxury began the parley, and after having represented the endless state of war in which they were engaged, told his enemy, with a frankness of heart which is natural to him, that he believed they two should