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So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name, What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame. How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot ;
A heap of dust alone remains of thee,
'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
Poets themselves must fall like those they sung,
VIII.-WOLSEY AND CROMWELL.
Wol.-Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a rip'ning, nips his shoot; And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd. Like little wanton boys, that swim on bladders, These many summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me; and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of the world, I hate ye! I feel my heart new-open'd. Oh, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is, betwixt that smile he would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and his ruin,
More pangs and fears than war or women have ;
Crom.—I have no power to speak, sir.
my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder A great man should decline ?
Crom.-How does your Grace ?
Wol. Why, well;
Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
A peace above all earthly dignities;
A still and quiet conscience. The King has cur'd me,
A load would sink a navy, too much honour.
I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master. Seek the King.
What, and how true thou art; he will advance thee;
Some little memory of me will stir him
(I know his noble nature) not to let
Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell,
Crom.-O my Lord!
Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego
Wol.-Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not.
Thy God's and Truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!
Lead me in, and take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny, 'tis the King's. My robe,
I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
IX.-ON THE DEATH OF HENRY KIRKE WHITE.
UNHAPPY White! while life was in its spring,
Oh! what a noble heart was here undone,
X.-UNHAPPY CLOSE OF LIFE.
How shocking must thy summons be, O Death!
Oh, might she stay to wash away her stains;
HUMOROUS, SATIRICAL, AND COMIC PIECES.
L-ON FEMALE ORATORY.
WE are told by some ancient authors, that Socrates was instructed in eloquence by a woman, whose name, if I am not mistaken, was Aspasia. I have indeed very often looked upon that art as the most proper for the female sex; and I think the universities would do well to consider whether they should not fill the rhetoric chairs with she-professors.
It has been said in the praise of some men, that they could talk whole hours together upon any thing; but it must be owned, to the honour of the other sex, that there are many among them who can talk whole hours together upon nothing. I have known a woman branch out into a long extempore dissertation upon the edging of a petticoat, and chide her servant for breaking a china cup, in all the figures of rhetoric.
Were women admitted to plead in courts of judicature, I am persuaded they would carry the eloquence of the bar to greater heights than it has yet arrived at. If any one doubts this, let him but be present at those debates which frequently arise among the ladies of the British fishery.'
The first kind, therefore of female orators which I shall take notice of, are those who are employed in stirring up the passions; a part of rhetoric in which Socrates's wife had perhaps made a greater proficiency than his above-mentioned teacher.
The second kind of female orators are those who deal in invectives, and who are commonly known by the name of the Censorious. The imagination and elocution of this set of rhetoricians is wonderful. With what a fluency of invention, and copiousness of expression, will they enlarge upon every little slip in the behaviour of another! With how many different circumstances, and with what variety of
The writer means the Fishwomen of Billingsgate.