BRU. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;
What you would work me to, I have some aim :
How I have thought of this, and of these times,
I fhall recount hereafter: for this prefent,
I would not (fo with love I might intreat you)
Be any further mov'd. What you have faid,
I will confider; what you have to fay,

I will with patience hear; and find a time.
Both meet to hear, and answer fuch high things.
Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this;
Brutus had rather be a villager,

Than to repute himself a son of Rome

Under fuch hard conditions as this time

Is like to lay upon us.

CAS. I am glad that my weak words

Have ftruck but thus much fhew of fire from Brutus.

SHAKESPEAR.

CHA P. XV.

BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, AND ARVIRAGUS.

A

GOODLY day! not to keep house, with fuch
Whofe roof's as low as ours: fee! boys, this gate
Inftructs you
how t' adore the heav'ns;
and bows you
To morning's holy office. Gates of monarchs
Are arch'd fo high, that giants may jet through,
And keep their impious turbands on, without
Good morrow to the fun. Hail, thou fair heav'n!
We house i' th' rock, yet ufe thee not fo hardly
As prouder livers do.

GUID. Hail, Heav'n!
ARY. Hail, Heav'n!

BEL.

3

BEL.

BEL. Now for our mountain fport, up to yond hill, Your legs are young. I'll tread thefe flats. Confider, When you, above, perceive me like a crow,

That it is place which leffens and fets off:
And you may then revolve what tales I told you,

Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war;
That fervice is not fervice, fo being done,
But being fo allow'd. To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we see ;
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The fharded beetle in a fafer hold,
Than 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 ruftling in unpaid-for filk.
Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine,
Yet keeps his book uncrofs'd;-no life to ours..

GUID. Out of your proof you fpeak; we, poor, unfledg'd,
Have never wing'd from view o' th' neft; nor know
What air's from home. Haply this life is beft,
If quiet life is beft; fweeter to you,

That have a fharper known; well correfponding
With your ftiff age: but unto us, it is
A cell of ign'rance; travelling a bed;
A prifon, for a debtor that not dares
To ftride 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, fhall we difcourfe
The freezing hours away? We have feen nothing
We're beaftly; fubtle as the fox for prey,

R 4

Like

Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat.
Our valour is to chafe what flies; our cage
We make a choir, as doth the prison'd bi
And fing our bondage freely.

BEL. How you speak!

Did you but know the city's ufuries,

And felt them knowingly; the art o' th' court,
As hard to leave, as keep; whofe top to climb,

Is certain falling; or fo flipp'ry, that

The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of war;

A pain that only feems to feek out danger

I' th' name of fame and honour; which dies i' th' feareh, And hath as oft a fland'rous epitaph,

As record of fair act; nay, many time,

Doth ill deserve, by doing well: what's worfe
Muft curt'fy at the cenfure.-Oh, boys, this story
The world might read in me: my body's mark'd
With Roman fwords; and my report was once
Firft with the beft of note. Cymbeline lov'd me;
And when a foldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: then was I as a tree,
Whofe boughs did bend with fruit. But, in one night,
A ftorm, or robbery, call 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 you oft, But that two villains (whofe falfe oaths prevail'd Before my perfe&t honour) fwore to Cymbeline, I was confed'rate with the Romans: fo Follow'd my banifhment; and, this twenty years, This rock and thefe demefnes have been my world;

Where

Where I have liv'd at honeft 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 venifon firft, fhall be the lord o' th' feast;
To him the other two fhall minifter,

And we will fear no poison, which attends
In place of greater state.

I'll meet you in the valleys.

(

во ок VII.

DESCRIPTIVE PIECES.

CHAP. I.

SENSIBILITY.

EAR Senfibility! fource inexhaufted of all that's precious in our joys, or coftly in our forrows! thou chaineft thy martyr down upon his bed of straw, and it is thou who lifteft 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 fome fad and fickening moments, C my foul shrinks back upon herself, and startles at deftruction'-mere pomp of words!-but that I feel fome generous joys and generous cares beyond myself-all comes from thee, great, great Senforium of the world! which vibrates, if a hair of our head but falls upon the ground, in the remoteft defert of thy creation. Touched with thee, Eugenius draws my curtain when I languish; hears my tale of fymptoms, and blames the weather for the diforder of his nerves. Thou giveft a portion of it fometimes to the rougheft