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May quite as well be kindly done, Dentatus,
As harshly-Had you only to myself,
Declared your discontents, the more you had rail'd
The more I should have thank'd you.

Den. Had I thought

App. And have you been campaigning then so long, And prosperously? and mistrust you, Sicinius, That a young scarless soldier, like myself, Would listen to your tutoring? See, now, How much you have mistaken me! Dentatus, In a word-Can you assist the generals; And will you?

Den. I have all the will—but as For the ability

App. Tut! Tut! Dentatus,
You vex me now! This coyness sits not well on you.
You know as well as I, you have as much
Ability as will. I would not think you
A man that loved to find fault, but to find fault!
Surely the evil you complain of, you
Would lend a hand to remedy! See, now
"Tis fairly put to you—what say you?

Den. Appius!
You may use me as you please.

App. And that will be,

deserve! I'll send you, as my Legate, To the army. (Shout from the people.) Do you hear

your friends, Dentatus?
A lucky omen that! Away! Away!
Apprise your house---prepare for setting out.
I 'll hurry your credentials--Minutes now
Rate high as hours! Assist my colleagues with
Your counsel; if their plans displease you, why
Correct them! change them! utterly reject them;
And if you meet obstruction-notice me,
And I will push it by—There now !-Your hand !
Again! Away! All the success attend you,
That Appius wishes you.

Den. Success is from
The gods; whose hand soe'er it pleases them
To send it by—I know not what success
"Tis Appius' wish they send; but this I know-
I am a soldier; and, as a soldier, I
Am bound to serve. All the success I ask,
Is that which benefits my country, Appius.

[Exit Dentatus. App. You have served her overlong! (aside.) Now

for our causes.

Seene--THE CAMP.

Opp. Has he set out?

Vibul. He has, my Oppius,
And never to return! His guard's instructed
To take good care of him. There's not a man
But's ten times sold to us, and of our wishes
Fully possess’d. Dentatus will no more
Obstruct us in our plans. He did not like
The site of our encampment. He will find
At least the air of it was wholesome.

Opp. What
Report are they instructed to bring back ?

Vibul. They fell into an ambush.-He was slain.
Opp. But should the truth, by any means, come out.

Vibul. Imprison them, and secretly despatch them, Or

ope the dungeon doors, and let them 'scape.
Opp. I should prefer the latter method.

Vilul. Well,
That be our choice. But when it is determined
To spill blood otherwise than as it may
Be spill’d, to hesitate about some drops
Is weakness may be fatal.

From l'irginiui.


Julia. An ample fortune, Helen-I shall be A happy wife! What routs, what balls, what masques, What gala days!

Clifford (aside). For these she marries me!
She'll talk of these!

Julia. Think not, when I am wed,
I'll keep the house as owlet does her tower,
Alone, when


other bird's on wing. I'll use my palfrey, Helen; and my coach; My barge too for excursions on the Thanies; What drives to Barnet, Hackney, Islington! What rides to Epping, Hounslow, and Blackheath! What sails to Greenwich, Woolwich, Fulham, Kew! I'll set a pattern to your lady wives!

Clifford. Ay, lady? Trust me, not at my expense.

Julia. And what a wardrobe! I'll have change of suits For every day in the year! and sets for days!

My morning dress, my noon dress, dinner dress,
And evening dress! then will I show you lace
A foot deep, can I purchase it; if not,
I'll speedily bespeak it. Diamonds too!
Not buckles, rings, and ear-rings only,--but
Whole necklaces and stomachers of gems!
I'll shine! be sure I will.

Clifford (aside). Then shine away;
Who covets thee may wear thee; I'm not he!

Julia. And then my title! Soon as I put on
The ring, I'm Lady Clifford. So I take
Precedence of plain mistress, were she e'en
The richest heiress in the land! At town
Or country ball, you'll see me take the lead,
While wives that carry on their backs the wealth
To dower a princess, shall give place to me;-
Will I not profit, think you, by my right?
Be sure I will! marriage shall prove to me
A never-ending pageant. Every day
Shall show how I am spoused! I will be known
For Lady Clifford all the city through,
And fifty miles the country round about.
Wife of Sir Thomas Clifford, barcnet, -
Not perishable knight! who, when he makes
A lady of me, doubtless must expect
To see me play the part of one.

Clifford (coming forward). Most true. But not the part which you design to play.

Julia. A list'ner, Sir!

Clifford. By chance, and not intent.
Your speech was forced upon mine ear, that ne'er
More thankless duty to my heart discharged!
Would for that heart it ne'er had known the sense
Which tells it ’tis a bankrupt there, where most
It coveted to be rich, and thought it was so!
O Julia! is it you? Could I have set
A coronet upon that stately brow,
Where partial nature hath already bound
A brighter circlet-radiant beauty's own-
I had been proud to see thee proud of it,
So for the donor thou had’st ta’en the gift,
Not for the gift ta’en him. Could I have pour d
The wealth of richest Cresus in thy lap,
I had been blest to see thee scatter it,
So I was still thy riches paramount!

Julia. Know you me, Sir?
Clifford. I do! On Monday week,

We were to wed, and are, so you're content
The day that weds, wives you to be widow'd. Take
The privilege of my wife; be Lady Clifford !
Outshine thy title in the wearing on’t!
My coffers, lands, are all at thy command;
Wear all! but, for myself, she wears not me,
Although the coveted of every eye,
Who would not wear me for myself alone.

Julia. And do you carry it so proudly, Sir?

Clifford. Proudly, but still more sorrowfully, Lady! I'll lead thee to the church on Monday week. Till then, farewell! and then,-farewell for ever! O Julia, I have ventured for thy love, As the bold merchant, who, for only hope Of some rich gain, all former gains will risk. Before I ask'd a portion of thy heart, I perill'd all my own; and now, all's lost!

From T'la iluschback.


Constance (courtesying). What delight
To back the flying steed, that challenges
The wind for speed !-seems native more of air
Than earth!—whose burden only lends him fire!
Whose soul, in his task, turns labour into sport!
Who makes your pastime his! I sit him now!
He takes away my breath!—He makes me reel!
I touch not earth-I see not-hear not-All
Is ecstacy of motion !

Wildrake. You are used,
I see, to the chase.
Constance. I


Sir! Then the leap-
To see the saucy barrier, and know
The mettle that can clear it! Then


To prove you master of the manage. Now
You keep him well together for a space,
Both horse and rider braced as you were one,
Scanning the distance—then you give him rein,
And let him fly at it, and o'er he goes
Light as a bird on wing.

Wildrake. "Twere a bold leap,
I see, that turn’d you, Madam.

Constance (courtesying). Sir, you're good! And then the hounds, Sir! Nothing I almire Beyond the running of the well-train'd pack.

The training's every thing! Keen on the scent!
At fault none losing heart!—but all at work!
None leaving his task to another !-answering
The watchful huntsman's caution, check, or cheer,
As steed his rider's rein! Away they go!
How close they keep together!—What a pack!
Nor turn, nor ditch, nor stream, divides them—as
They moved with one intelligence, act, will!
And then the concert they keep up!-enough
To make one tenant of the merry-wood,
To list their jocund music!

Wildrake. You describe
The huntsman's pastime to the life!

Constance. I love it!
To wood and glen, hamlet and town, it is
A laughing holiday!--Not a hill-top
But's then alive!-Footmen with horsemen vie,
All earth's astir, roused with the revelry
Of vigour, health, and joy!-Cheer awakes cheer,
While Echo's mimic tongue, that never tires,
Keeps up the hearty din! Each face is then
Its neighbour's glass-where gladness sees itself,
And, at the bright reflection, grows more glad!
Breaks into tenfold mirth!- laughs like a child!
Would make a gift of its heart, it is so free!
Would scarce accept a kingdom, 'tis so rich!
Shakes hands with all, and vows it never knew
That life was life before!

From The Love Chast'.


Could I find Something to tear—to rend were worth it—something Most ravenous and bloody-something like Gesler; a wolf-no, no; a wolf's a lamb To Gesler! it is natural hunger makes The wolf a savage, and savage as he is, Yet with his kind he gently doth consort. 'Tis but his lawful prey he tears, and that He finishes, not mangles, and then leaves To live! they slander him who call him cruel: He hath no joy in cruelty, but as It ministers to his most needful want: He does not know that he is cruel-noNot when he rends an infant. I would let The wolf go free for Gesler! Water! water! My tongue cleaves to my roof.

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