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BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, AND ARVIRAGUS.
BEL. A GOODLY day! not to keep house, with such
GUID. Hail, Heav'n!
Bel. Now for our mountain sport, up to yond' hill,
I'll tread these flats. Consider, When you, above, perceive me like a crow, That it is place which lessens and sets off: And you may
then revolve what tales I told you,
stiff age: but unto us, it is
Arv. What should we speak of
Bel. How you speak!
Guid. Uncertain fa, cur!
Bel. My fault being :lothing, as I have told you oft, But that two villains (whose false vatns prevailid Before my perfect honour) swore to Cynbeiine I was confed'rait with the Romans; so Follow'd my banishment; and, ihese twenty years,
This rock and these demesnes have been my world;
SAAKSPEARE. BOOK VII.
Dear Sensibility! source inexhausted of all that's precious in our joys, or costly in our sorrows! thíu chainest thy martyr down upon his bed of straw, and it is thou who liftest him up to Heaven. Eternal Fountain of our feelings! It is kere I trace ther, and this is thy "divinity which stirs within me: not, that in some sad and sickening momients, my soul shrinks back upon herself, and startles at destruction' !--mere pomp of words !--but that I frel some generous joys and generous cares beyond myself--all comes from thre, great, great Sensoriuin of the world! which vibrates, if a hair of our head but falls upon
the ground, in the renintest desert of thy creation. "Touched. with thee, Eugenius draws my curtain when I languish; hears my tale of symptoms, and blames the iverther for the skisorder 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 heart against his crook, with piteous inclination looking down upon it-Oh! had I come one menent sooner !it bleeds to death-his gentle heart bleeds with it.
Peace to thee, generous swain! I see thou walkest off with anguish-hut thy joys shall balance it; for happy is thiy cottage, and happy is the sharer of it, and happy are the lambs which sport about you.
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! tlırice sweet and gracious go:ldess, 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 słowy mantle, or chymic power turn thy sceptre into ironwith thee 10 smile upon him as he eats bis crust, the swain is happier Mian his monarch, from whose court thou art exiled. Gracimus Heaven? grant me but health, thua great Bestoiver of it, and give me hit this fair goduless as my companion; and shower down thy mitres, if it seems good unto thy divine Providence, upon those heads which are aching for thein.
Pursuing thiese ideas, I sat down close to my table, and leaning niy head upon my hanıl, I began to figure to myseif the miseries of confinement. I was in a right frame for it, and so I gave til scope to my imagination.
I was going to begin with the millions of my fellow- . (reatures born 10 no inheritance but slavery; but finding, however affecting the picture was, that I coukl not bring it nearer me, and that the multitude of sad
groups in it did but distract ine
I took a single captive, and having first shut him up in his dungeon, I then looked through the twilight of his grated door to take his picture.
I beheld his body half wasted away with long expectation and confinement, and felt what kind of sickness of the heart it was which arises from hope deferred. Upon looking nearer, I saw him pale and feverish: in thirty