Hunks. No, never, I give you my word, and that's as fixed as the laws of the Medes and Persians.

Blithe. But look ye, Sir, here's another circumstance to be attended to; my son has the deeds already in his own hands.

Hunks. Deeds! what deeds! those I gave
Blithe. Yes, the very same.

to my

brother?

Hunks. What a composition of villainy and witchcraft is here? What, my deeds given up to your son?

Blithe. Yes; your brother thought that my son had an undoubted title to them now, since his cousin was mar ried, and so he gave them up the next day.

Hunks. This is intolerable! I could tear the scalp from my old brainless scull; why had I not more wit than to trust them with him? I'm cheated every way! I can't trust a farthing with the best friend I have upon earth!

Blithe. That is very true 'tis no wonder you can't trust your best friends. The truth of the case is, you have no friend, nor can you expect any so long as you make an idol of yourself, and feast your sordid avaricious appetite upon the misfortunes of mankind. You take every póssible advantage, by the present calamities, to gratify your own selfish disposition. So long as this is the case, de-. pend upon it, you will be an object of universal detestation. There is no one on earth that would not rejoice to see how you're bro❜t in. Your daughter now has got a good inheritance, and an agreeable partner, which you were in duty bound to grant her; but, instead of that, you were then doing your utmost to deprive her of every enjoyment in life. Hunks puts his hand to his breast.] I don't wonder your conscience smites you for your villainy. Don't you see how justly you have been cheated into your duty?

Hunks. I'll go this moment to an attorney, and get a warrant; I'll put the villain in jail before an hour is at an end. Oh my deeds! my farms! what shall I do for my farms!

Blithe. Give yourself no farther trouble about them, there's no evidence in the case; you must be sensible therefore, an action can't lie. I would advise you to rest contented, and learn from disappointments, not to place such an exhorbitant value upon wealth. In the mean time I should be very glad of your company at the wedding. My son and his wife would be very happy to see your

Hunks. The dragon fly away with you, and your son, and your son's wife. O my farms! what shall I do for my

farms?

H

POETRY..

1040

Contempt of the common Objects of Pursuit.
ONOR and shame from no condition rise:
Act well your part, there all the honor lies.
Fortune in men has some small difference made;
One flaunts in rags; one flutters in brockade;
The cobler apron'd, and the parson gown'd;
The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd.
What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl ?"
I'll tell you friend! A wise man and a fool.
You'll find if once the wise man acts the monk,.
Or, cobler like, the parson will be drunk;

Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow; :
The rest is all but leather or prunella..

Go if your ancient, but ignoble blood,

Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood; :
Go, and pretend your family is young;

Nor own your fathers have been fools so long.
What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards?
Alas not all the blood of all the Howards..

Look next on greatness. Say where greatness lies?
Where, but among the heroes and the wise,
Heroes are all the same, it is agreed,

From Macedonia's madman to the Swede.

The whole strange purpose of their lives, to find,
Or make an enemy of all mankind.

Not one looks backward, onward still he goes;
Yet ne'er looks forward farther than his nose.
No less alike the politic and wise;

All sly, siow things, with circumspective eyes:
Men in their loose unguarded hours they take;
Not that themselves are wise; but others weak.
But grant that those can conquer, these can cheat;
"Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great.
Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave,
Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.
Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
Or, falling, smiles in exile, or in chains,

Like good Aurelius let him reign; or bleed
Like Socrates; that man is great indeed!
What's fame? a fancy'd life in others breath;
A thing beyond us e'en before our death.
Just what you hear's your own; and what's unknown
The same (my lord) if Tully's or your own.
All that we feel of it, begins and ends

In the small circle of our foes and friends;
To all besides as much an empty shade,
An Eugene living, as a Cæsar dead;
Alike, or when or where they shone, or shine,
Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine.

A wit's a feather, and a chief's a rod;

An honest man's the noblest work of God.
Fame, but from death a villain's name can save,-
As justice tears his body from the grave;
When what t'oblivion better were consign'd
Is hung on high to poison half mankind.
All fame is foreign, but of true desert;

Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart.
One self-approving hour whole years outweighs
Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas;
And more true joy, Marcellus exil'd feels,
Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels.
In parts superior what advantage lies?
Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise?
'Tis but to know, how little can be known;
To see all others' faults, and feel our own ::
Condemn'd in business or in arts to drudge,
Without a second and without a judge.
Truths would you teach, to save a sinking land
All fear, none aid you; and few understand.
Painful pre-eminence! yourself to view
Above life's weakness, and its comforts too.
Bring then these blessings to a strict account;
Make fair deductions: see to what they 'mount;
How much of other each is sure to cost;
How each for other oft is wholly lost;
How inconsistent greater goods with these;
How sometimes life is risk'd, and always ease;
Think; and if still such things thy envy call,
Say, would'st thou be the man to whom they fall?
To sigh for ribbands if thou art so so silly,

Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy
Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life?
Look but on Gripus or on Gripus' wife.
If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shin'd
The wisest, brightest-meanest of mankind;
Or, ravish'd with the whistling of a name,
See Cromwell damn'd to everlasting fame:
If all united thy ambition call,

From ancient story learn to scorn them all..

"T

Various Characters.

IS from high life, high characters are drawn
A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn;

A judge is just; a chanc'lor juster still;

A gownman learn'd; a bishop-what you will;
Wise if a minister: but if a king,

More wise, more just, more learn'd, more every thing
"Tis education forms the common mind;
Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclin'd.
Boastful and rough, your first son is a squire;
The next a tradesman, meek and much a liar :
Tom struts a soldier, open, bold and brave:
Will sneaks a scriv'ner an exceeding knave.
Is he a churchman? Then he's fond of power:
A quaker? sly: A presbyterian? sour:
A smart freethinker? All things in an hour.
Manners with fortunes, humors turn with climes,
Tenets with books, and principles with times.
Search then the ruling passion. There, alone,
The wild are constant, and the cunning known.

L

Description of a Storm of Hail.

ONG rush'd the victors o'er the sanguine field, And scarce were Gibeon's loftiest spires beheld; When up the west, dark clouds began to rise,

Sail'd o'er the hills and lengthened round the skies;
A ridge of folding fire, their summits shone,
But fearful blackness all beneath was thrown;
Swift round the sun the spreading gloom was hurl'd,
And night and solitude amaz'd the world.

At once the voice of deep resounding gales
Rung slow and solemn in the distant vales;
Then through the groves and o'er the extended plaid,

With stormy,rage the rapid whirlwinds ran.
Red o'er the glimmering hills with pomp divine;
The lightning's flaming path began to shine;
Far round the immense, unusual thunders driven,
Proclaim'd the onset of approaching Heaven;
Astonish'd nature own'd the strange alarm,
And the world trembled at the impending storm.
O'er the dark fields aghast Cannaan stream'd;
Thick in the course the scatter'd bucklers gleam'd,
Behind them. Joshua urg'd the furious car,
And tenfold horrors hovered round the war.

But when the chief the spreading storm survey'd
And trac'd Almighty arms in Heaven display'd;
With piercing voice he gave the great command,
Stand still, ye chosen sons, admiring stand!
Behold what awful scenes in heaven arise!
Adore the power that brightens in the skies!
Now God's tremendous arm asserts his laws;
Now bids his thunder aid the righteous cause;
Shows man how virtue saves her chosen bands,
And points the vengeance doom'd for guilty lands.
Behold what flames shoot forth! what gloom ascends!
How nature trembles! how the concave rends!
How the clouds darken! see, in yonder sky,

Their opening skirts proclaim the Almighty nigh!
He spoke, and from the north a rushing sound

Roll'd thro' the Heavens, and shook the embattled ground,
Thron'd on a dark-red cloud an angel's form
Sail'd awfully sublime, above the storm;
Half veil'd in mist, his count'nance like a sun,
Inflam'd the clouds, and thro' all ether shone;
Long robes of crimson light behind him flow'd;

His wings were flames; his locks were dy'd in blood;,
Ten thousand fiery shapes were round him driven,
And all the dazzling pomp of opening Heaven.
Now, save Canaan's cries that feebly rung
Round the dark plain, a fearful silence hung;
Stretch'd in dire terror o'er the quivering band,
The etherial Vision wav'd his sun bright hand;
At once from opening skies, red flames were hurl'd;
And thunders, roll'd on thunders, rock'd the world;
In one broad deluge sunk the avenging hail,
And all'd with tempest, roar'd the hoary vale;