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perate. Avicen says, "If learning be mixed Directing. with a brain that is not of a contexture fit to receive it, the brain ferments, till it be totally exhausted." We must endeavour to eradicate these indigested ideas out of the pericranium, and to restore the patient to a competent knowledge of himself.

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Dennis. Caitiffs, stand off! Unhand me, miscreants! [The Doctor, the nurse, and Lintot, run out of the room in a hurry, and tumble down the garret stairs altogether.] Is the man, whose labours are calculated to bring the town to reason, Mad? Is the man, who settles poetry on the basis of antiquity, mad? See Longinus in my right hand, and Aristotle in my left! [Calls after the Doctor, the bookseller, and the nurse, from the top of the stairs.] I am the only man among the moderns, that support the venerable ancients. And am I to be assassinated? Shall a bookseller, who has lived upon my labours, take away that life, to which he owes his support? [Goes into his garret, and shuts the door.]



Milton's Morning Hymn. (PARAD. Løsт. B. V. v. 153.)

THESE are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Veneration.

Almighty! thine this universal frame,

Thus wond' rous fair! Thyself (1) how wondrous Admiration


Unspeakable! who sitt'st above the heav'ns,
To us invisible, or dimly seen

In these thy lowest works; yet these declare


Love, with

Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine. Veneration

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(1) Thyfelf how wond'rous," &c. The fenfe, in profe, would be, "If thy works be fo wonderfully excellent, thy own original excellence is unfpeakable, and inconceivable." It is not, I believe, generally underflood fo, elfe readers would not (as I have heard many) make a paufe between the word then and unspeakable.


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Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light,

Sacred Rap- Angels! For (1) ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night,


Circle his throne rejoicing. (2) Ye in heav'n!
On earth join all ye creatures to extol

Him first, him last, Him midst, and without end.
Fairest of stars, last in the train of night,
If better thou belong not to the dawn,

Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet! praise him in thy sphere While morn arises, that sweet hour of prime. Admiration (3) Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul, Lowly Sub- Acknowledge Him thy greater. Sound his praise miffion. In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st,

And when high moon hast gain'd, and when thou


Rapture. Moon, that now meet'st the orient sun, now fly'st
With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their sphere on high,
And ye five other wand'ring orbs, that move
In mystic dance, not without song! resound
His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light.
Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth
Of nature's womb, that in quaterion run
Perpetual circle, multiform; and mix

And nourish all things; let your ceaseless change
Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Ye mists, and exhalations, that now rise.
From hill, or streaming lake, dusky or grey,
Till the sun paint your flcecy skirts with gold,
In honor to the world's great Author rise;
Whether to deck with clouds, th' uncolour'd sky,
Or cheer with falling show'rs the thirsty ground,

(1) The reader need fcarce be told, that fuch matter ought to be expreffed with as much smoothness and liquidity of utterance as poffible.

(2) "Ye in heav'n." This is generally ill pointed. Thefe words are a complete sentence. The meaning is," I call on you (Angels) to praife God in your celeftial habitation.' And then the poet goes on to call on the terreftials to join their humble tribute. (3) Thou fun of this," &c. To be fpoken a little more ore rotundo, or full-mouthed, than the foregoing, to image the ftupendous greatnefs of a world of fire, equal as fuppofed by astronomers, to a million of earths.


Rising, or falling, still advance his praise.
His praise, ye winds that from four quarters blow
Breathe soft or loud, and wave your tops, ye

With ev'ry plant, in sign of worship wave,
Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise,
Join voices, all ye living souls. Ye birds,
That singing, up to heaven's high gate ascend,
Bear on your wings, and in your notes his praise.'
Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk
The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep.
Witness, if I be silent, morn or ev'n

To hill or valley, fountain, or fresh shade
Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise.
Hail, universal Lord! Be bounteous still,
To give us only good; and if the night
Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd,
Disperse it, as now day the dark dispels.



The scene between Priuli, a Venetian senator, and Jaffier, who had married his daughter without his consent, and being afterwards reduced to poverty, and soliciting his father-in-law to relieve his distress, receives the following treatment. VENICE PRESERVED.]


Priuli. No more! I'll hear no more.

and leave me.

Profound Submiffion.

Be gone Pecvifanefs.

Jafier. Not hear me! By my sufferings but Courage. you shall.

My lord! my lord! I am not that abject wretch

You think me. Where's the difference, throws Remonftr,

me back

So far behind you, that I must not speak to you?
Priuli. Have you not wrong'd ine?



Jaffier. Could my nature e'er But have endur'd the thought of doing wrong, Distress. I need not now thus low have bent myself To gain a hearing from a cruel father.

Remonftr. You cannot say that I have ever wrong'd you. Priuli. I say you've wrong'd me in the nicest



The honor of my house.




Your baseness to me.

You can't defend
When you first came

From travel, I with open arms received you.
Pleased with your seeming virtues: sought to
raise you.

My house, my table, fortune, all was yours;
And, in requital of my best endeavours,
You treacherously practis'd to undo me;
Seduc'd the joy of my declining age,

My only child, and stole her from my bosom.
Jaffer. Is this your gratitude to him who

Your daughter's life? You know, that, but for me Selfdefence You had been childless. I restor'd her to you, When sunk before your eyes amidst the waves, I hazarded my life for her's; and she


Has richly paid me with her generous love.
Priuli. You stole her from me, like a thief
you stole her,

At dead of night. That cursed hour you chose
To rifle me of all my heart held dear.


Easeration But inay your joy in her prove false as mine.
May the hard hand of pinching poverty
Oppress and grind you; till at last you
The curse of disobedience all your fortune.
Home, and be humble. Study to retrench.
Discharge the lazy vermin of thy hall,
Those pageants of thy folly;


Reduce the glittering trappings of thy wife
To humbleweeds fit for thy narrow state.
Then to some suburb-cottage both retire,
And with your starveling brats enjoy your misery.
Home, honte, I say.




HONOR and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part: There all the honor lies.
Fortune in men has some small diff'rence made;
One flaunts in rags; one flutters in brocade;
The cobler apron'd, and the parson gown'd;
The friar hooded, and the monarch corn'd.
"What differ more (you cry) than crown and
cowl ?"



(1) I'll tell you, friend! A wise man and a fool. Informing, You'll find, if once the wise man acts the monk; Teaching. Or, cobler like, the parson will be drunk;

*Worth makes the man, and twant of it the fel- *Approbat. +Contempt

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The rest is all but leather or prunella.

Stuck o'er with titles and hung round with


That thou may'st be by kings, or whores of kings,
Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race
In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece :

But by your father's worth if yours you rate,
Count me those only, who were good and great.
Go! if your ancient, but ignoble blood,
Has crept thro' 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 great-
ness lies?

Where but among the heroes and the wise.
Heroes are all the same it is agreed,

(1) This line (I'll tell you, friend," &c.) may be expreffed in a fort of important half-whisper, and with fignificant locks and nod, as if a grand secret was told.





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