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CHA P. Y V.
Bellarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Bel. A goodly day! not to keep house, with such
Whose roof's as low as ours: see! boys, this gate Instructs you how t'adore the heav'ns: and bows
The morning's holy office. Gates of monarchs
Guid. Hail Heav'n!
Arv. Hail Heav'n!
Bel. Now for our mountain sport up to you
Your legs are young. I'll tread these flats. Consider,
And you may
Have never wing'd from view o'th' nest; nor know
That have a sharper known; well corresponding
With your stiff age but unto us, it is
Arv. What should we speak of,
When we are old as yon? When we shall hear
Bel. How you speak!
Did you but know the city's usuries,
And felt them knowingly; the art o' th' court,
The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of war;
And hath as oft a sland'rous epitaph,
As record of fair act; nay, many times
Whose boughs did bend with fruit. But, in one night,
A storm, or robbery, call it what
Guid. Uncertain favour!
Bel. My fault being nothing, as I have told
But that two villains (whose false oaths prevail'd
Before my perfect honour) swore to Cymbeline
The fore end of my time.-But, up to the moun
This is not hunters' language; he that strikes
And we will fear no poison, which attends
I'll meet you in the vallies.
CHA P. I.
EAR Sensibility! source inexhausted of all that's precious in our joys, or costly in our sorrows; thou chainest the martyr down upon his bed of straw, and it is thou who liftest 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 some sad and sickening moments, my soul shrinks back upon herself, and startles at destruction' --mere pomp of words!--but that I feel some generous joys and generous cares beyond myself --all comes from thee, great, great Sensoriam of the world! which vibrates, if a hair of our head but falls upon the ground, in the remotest desert of thy creation. Touched with thee Eugenius draws my curtain when I languish! hears my tale of symptoms, and blames the weather for the disorder of his nerves. Thou givest a portion of it sometimes to the roughest peasant who traverses the bleakest mountains. --He finds the lacerated lamb of another's flock. This moment I beheld him leaning with his head against his crook, with piteous inclination looking down upon it,--Oh! had I come one moment sooner!--it bleeds to death--his gentle heart bleeds with it.
Peace to thee generous, swain ! I see thou
walkest off with anguish--but thy joys shall balance it; for happy is thy cottage, and happy is the sharer of it, and happy are the lambs which sport about you.
CHA P. II.
Liberty and Slavery.
ISGUISE thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery! still thou art a bitter draught; and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink of the, 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 chymic 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-
Pursuing these ideas, I sat down close by my table, and leaning my head upon my hand, I began to figure to myself the miseries of confinement. I was in a right frame for it, and so I gave full scope to my imagination.
I was going to begin with the millions of my fellow-creatures born to no inheritance but Slavery; but finding, however affecting the picture was, that I could not bring it nearer ine, and that the multitude of sad groups , did but distract me-