1st Sold. Nay, I'll read it first, by your favor. [Reading.] When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it; After he scores, he never pays the score: Half won is match well made; match, and well make it. He ne'er pays after debts, take it before. For count of this, the count 's a fool`, I know` it, Count R. He shall be whipped through the army, with these rhymes on his forehead. 2d Capt. D. This is your devoted friend, the learned linguist, and the gallant soldier. Count R. I could endure any thing before but a cat`, and now he's a cat to me. 1st Sold. I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we shall be fain to hang you. Del. My life, in any case: not that I am afraid to die; but that my offenses being many, I would repent out the remainder of my nature. Let me live, sir, in a dungeon`, in the stocks, or any where, so I may live. 1st Sold. We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely; therefore once more to this Captain Dumain. You have answered to his reputation with the Duke', and to his valor. What his honesty? Del. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister. He pretends not to keep oaths; but in breaking them is stronger than Hercules. He will lie, sir, with such volubility, that you would think truth were a fool; drunkenness is his best virtue. I have but little more to say, sir, of his honesty: he has every thing that an honest man should not have; what an honest man should have, he has nothing`. Count R. Hang him. 1st Sold. His qualities He is more and more a cat. being at this poor price, I need not ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt. Del. Sir, for the fourth part of a French crown, he will sell the fee-simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it, and cut the entail from all remainder. 1st Sold. What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain? 2d Capt. D. Why does he ask of me? 1st Sold. What's he? Del. E'en a crow of the same nest; not altogether so great as the other in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil. He excels his brother for a coward, yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is: in a retreat, he outruns a lackey; marry, in coming on he has the cramp. 1st Sold. If your life is saved, will you undertake to betray your friends? Del. Ay, the Captain of their horse, Count Rozencrantz, and all of them. 1st Sold. I'll whisper with the general and know his pleasure. Del. I'll no more drumming; a plague of all drums. Only to seem to deserve well, and to get the good opinion of that foolish young boy, the count, have I run into this danger. Yet who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken? [Aside. 1st. Sold. There is no remedy, sir', but you must die`. The general says, you', that have so traitorously discovered the secrets of your army, and made such villainous reports of men in high estimation", can serve the world for no honest use; therefore you must die. Come, headsman, off with his head. Del. O, sir, let me live, or let me see my death! 1st. Sold. That you shall, and take your leave of all your friends. So`, look about` you; know you any here? Count R. Good morrow, noble captain. [Unmuffling him. 2d Capt. D. God bless you, Captain Delgrado. 1st. Capt. D. God save you, noble captain. 2d Capt. D. What greeting will you to my lord Lafeu`? I'm for France. 1st Capt. D. Good captain, will you give me a copy of your sonnet? If I were not a very coward, I'd compel it of you; but fare-you-well. [Exeunt Count R., Capt. D. and brother. 1st Sold. You are undone, captain; all but your scarf, that has a knot on 't yet. of Del. Who can not be crushed with a plot? 1st. Sold. I'm for France, too: farewell, we shall speak you there. Del. Yet I am thankful. If my heart were great, 'T would burst at this. Captain I'll be no more; [Exit. But I will eat, and drink, and sleep as soft ·As captain shall; simply the thing I am Shall make me live. Let him fear this. Who knows himself a braggart Rust, sword! cool, blushes! and, Delgrado ́, live! [Exit. 1. In my daily walks into the country, I was accustomed to pass a certain cottage. It had nothing particularly picturesque about it. It had its little garden, and its vine spreading over its front; but, beyond these, it possessed no feature likely to fix it in the mind of the poet or novel-writer, and which might induce him to people it with creatures of his own fancy. In fact, it appeared to be inhabited by persons as little extraordinary as itself. A "good man of the house" it might possess, but he was never visible. The only inmates I ever saw, were a young woman, and another female, in the wane of life, no doubt the mother. 2. The damsel was a comely, fresh, mild-looking cottage. girl, always seated in one spot, near the window, intent on her needle. The old dame was as regularly busied, to and fro, in household affairs. She appeared one of those good housewives, who never dream of rest, except when in sleep. The cottage stood so near the road, that the fire at the further end of the room, showed you, without your being rudely inquisitive, the whole interior in a single moment of passing. A clean hearth and a cheerful fire, shining upon homely, but neat and orderly furniture, spoke of comfort: but whether the old dame enjoyed, or merely diffused that comfort, was a problem. 3. I passed the house many successive days. It was always alike, the fire shining brightly and peacefully,—the girl seated at her post by the window, the housewife going to and fro, catering and contriving, dusting and managing. One morning as I went by, there was a change. The dame was seated near her daughter, her arms laid upon the table, and her head reclined upon her arms. I was sure that it was sickness which had compelled her to that action of repose; nothing less could have done it. I felt that I knew exactly the poor woman's feelings. She had felt a weariness stealing upon her; she had wondered at it, and struggled against it, and borne up, hoping it would pass by; till, loth as she was to yield, it had forced submission. 4. The next day, when I passed, the room appeared as usual; the fire burning pleasantly, the girl at her needle, but her mother was not to be seen; and, glancing my eye upward, I perceived the blind close drawn, in the window above. It is so, said I to myself, disease is in progress. Perhaps it occasions no gloomy fear of consequences, no extreme concern: and yet, who knows how it may end? It is thus, that begin those changes that draw out the central bolt that holds families together; which steal away our fire-side faces, and lay waste our affections. 5. I passed by, day after day. The scene was the same; the fire burning, the hearth beaming clear and beautiful; but the mother was not to be seen; the blind was still drawn above. At length, I missed the girl, and in her place appeared another woman, bearing considerable resemblance to the mother, but of a more quiet habit. It was easy to interrupt this change. Disease had assumed an alarming aspect; the daughter was occupied in intense watching and caring for the suffering mother, and the good woman's sister had been summoned to her side, perhaps from a distant spot, and, perhaps, from her family cares, which no less important an event could have induced her to elude. 6. Thus appearances continued some days. There was silence around the house, and an air of neglect within it, till, one morning, I beheld the blind drawn, in the room below, and the window thrown open above. The scene was over; the mother was removed from her family, and one of those great changes effected in human life, which commence with so little observation, but leave behind them such lasting effects. "Reflec THANATOPSIS is composed of two Greek words, thanatos meaning death, and opsis a view. The word, therefore, signifies a view of death or tions on Death." 1. To him who in the love of nature holds 2. 3. When thoughts Of the last bitter hour come like a blight, Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, Go forth unto the open sky, and list To nature's teaching, while from all around, "Yet a few days, and thee, The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet, in the cold ground, Thy image. Earth, that nourish'd thee, shall claim, To be a brother to th' insensible rock And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain 4. Yet not to thy eternal resting place Shalt thou retire alone, nor could'st thou wish |