No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.

Oh, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it!

Orlan.—Why, what's the matter?
Adam.-Oh, unhappy youth,

Come not within these doors; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives:

Your brother (no; no brother; yet the son;
Yet not the son; I will not call him son,
Of him I was about to call his father)

Hath heard your praises, and this night he means
To burn the lodging where you used to lie,
And you within it; if he fail of that,

He will have other means to cut you off.

I overheard him and his practices:

This is no place, this house is but a butchery;
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

Orlan. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. Orlan.-What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food? Or with a base and boist'rous sword enforce

A thievish living on the common road?
This must I do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can ;

I rather will subject me to the malice
Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.

Adam. But do not so; I have five hundred crowns,
The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father,

Which I did store to be my foster-nurse,

When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown:
Take that; and He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
All this I give you, let me be your servant:

Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty;
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did I with unbashful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly; let me go with you;
I'll do the service of a younger man
In all your business and necessities.

Orlan.-O! good old man, how well in thee appears
The constant service of the antique world,
When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat, but for promotion;
And, having that, do choke their service up
Ev'n with the having: 'tis not so with thee;
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossom yield
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.
But come thy ways, we'll go along together,
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
We'll light upon some settled low content.
Adam.-Master, go on and I will follow thee
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.

XI.-RICHMOND ENCOURAGING HIS SOLDIERS.

THUS far into the bowels of the land
Have we marched on without impediment.
Richard, the bloody and devouring boar,'
Whose ravenous appetite has spoiled your fields,
Laid this rich country waste, and rudely cropped
Its ripened hopes of fair posterity,

Is now even in the centre of the isle.

Thrice is he armed who hath his quarrel just;

1 In allusion to the badge of Richard, which was a silver Boar.

And he but naked, though locked up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted:

The very weight of Richard's guilt shall crush him—
Then, let us on, my friends, and boldly face him!

In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man
As mild behaviour and humanity;

But, when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Let us be tigers in our fierce deportment :
For me, the ransom of my bold attempt
Shall be this body on the earth's cold face ;
But, if we thrive, the glory of the action
The meanest soldier here shall share his part of.
Advance your standards, draw your willing swords,
Sound drums and trumpets boldly and cheerfully;
The word's "St. George, Richmond, and Victory!"

PROMISCUOUS PIECES.

1. HOTSPUR READING A LETTER.

"BUT, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house.” He could be contented to be there! Why is he not, then? “In respect of the love he bears our house." He shows in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house! Let me see some more. "The purpose you undertake is dangerous." Why, that's certain, 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. "The purpose you undertake is dangerous; the friends you have named, uncertain; the time itself, unsorted; and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoise of so great an opposition." Say you so, say you so? I say unto you again, you are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lackbrain is this! Our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends true and constant; a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty

spirited rogue this is! Why, my Lord of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, and myself? Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not, besides, the Douglas? Have I not all their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of next month? and are there not some of them set forward already? What a pagan rascal is this? an infidel!-Ha! you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. Oh! I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skim-milk with so honourable an action. Hang him! let him tell the King. We are prepared, I will set forward to-night.

.

II. ON CRITICISM.

AND how did Garrick speak the soliloquy last night? Oh, against all rule, my lord—most ungrammatically! Betwixt the substantive and the adjective, which should agree together in number, case, and gender, he made a breach thus-stopping as if the point wanted settling; and betwixt the nominative case, which your lordship knows should govern the verb, he suspended his voice in the epilogue a dozen times, three seconds and three-fifths, by a stop-watch, my lord, éach time. Admirable grammarian!

But in suspending his voice, was the sense suspended likewise? did no expression of attitude or countenance fill up the chasm? Was the eye silent? Did you narrowly look? I looked only at the stop-watch, my lord. Excellent observer!

And what of this new book the whole world makes such a rout about? Oh, 'tis out of all plumb, my lord-quite an irregular thing; not one of the angles at the four corners was a right angle. I had my rule and compasses, &c., lord, in my pocket. Excellent critic!

my

And for the epic poem your lordship bid me look at; upon

taking the length, breadth, height, and depth of it, and trying them at home upon an exact scale of Bossu's, 'tis out, my lord, in every one of its dimensions. Admirable connoisseur !

And did you step in, to look at the grand picture in your way back? 'Tis a melancholy daub! my lord; not one principle of the pyramid in any one group! and what a price! for there is nothing of the colouring of Titian, the expression of Rubens, the grace of Raphael, the purity of Dominichino, the corregiescity of Corregio, the learning of the Poussins, the airs of Guido, the taste of the Carrachis, or the grand contour of Angelo.

Grant me patience, just heaven! Of all the cants which are canted in this canting world—though the cant of hypocrisy may be the worst, the cant of criticism is the most tormenting!

I would go fifty miles on foot to kiss the hand of that man, whose generous heart will give up the reins of his imagination into his author's hands, be pleased he knows not why, and cares not wherefore.

III.-LIBERTY AND SLAVERY.

DISGUISE thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery! still thou art a bitter draught; and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that account. It is thou, Liberty! thrice sweet and gracious goddess, whom all in public or in private worship, whose taste is grateful and ever will be so, till Nature herself shall change- -No tint of words can spot thy snowy mantle, or chemic power turn thy sceptre into iron- -with thee to smile upon him as he eats his crust the swain is happier than his monarch, from whose court thou art exiled. Gracious Heaven! grant me but health, thou great Bestower of it, and give me but this fair goddess as my companion; and shower down thy mitres, if it seems good unto thy divine providence, upon those heads which are aching for them.