The fun that rolls his chariot o'er their heads
Works up more fire and colour in their cheeks :
Were you with these, my prince, you'd soon forget
The pale, unripen'd beauties of the north.

Jul. 'f'is not a set of features, or complexion,
The tincture of the skin, that I admire,
Beauty foon grows familiar to the lover,
Fades in his eye, and palls.upon the sense.
The virtuous Marcia tow'rs above her fex :
True, she is fair (Oh, how divinely fair !)
But still the lovely maid improves her charms
With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom,
And sanctity of manners. Cato's soul
Shines out in every thing the acts or speaks,
While winning mildness and attractive smiles
Dwell in her looks, and with becoming grace
Soften the rigour of her father's virtues.
Syph. How does your tongue grow wanton in her





It must be fo-Plato, thou reason't well
Elle whence this pleasing hope, this fond delire,
This longing after immortality?
Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror,
Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself and startles at destruction?

l'is the divinity that stirs within us;
'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man.
Eternity! thou plealing, dreadful thought !
Thro' what variety of untry'd being,
Thro' what new scenes and changes must we pass!

The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me;
But shadows, clouds, and darkness, reft upon it.
Here will I hold. If there's a power above

us, (And that there is, all nature cries aloud Thro' all her works) he must delight in virtue; And that which he delights in must be happy. But when, or where? This world was made for Cæfar. I'm weary of.conjectures--this must end 'em.

Thus am I doubly arm'd-My death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before me.
This in a moment brings me to an end;
But this informs me I shall never die.
The foul, fecur'd in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger and defies its points
The stars fhall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature-fink in years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amidst the war of elements,
The wreck of matter, and the crush of words.



This very

Officer. My Lord,
We bring an order for your execution,
And hope you are prepar'd; for you must die

South. Indeed! the time is rudden !

Ess. Is death th' event of all my flatter'd hope? False Sex! and Queen more perjur'd than them all! But die I will without the least complaint; My soul shall vanish filent as the dew Attracted by the fun from verdant fields, And leaves of weeping flowers. Come, my dear friend, Partner in fate, give me thy body in

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"These faithful arms, and O now let me tell thee,
And you, my lords, and heaven my witness too,
I have no weight, no heaviness on my soul,
But that I've lost my dearest friend his life.

South. And I protest, by the same powers divine,
And to the world, 'tis all my happiness,
The greatest bliss my mind yet e'er enjoy'd,
Since we must die, my lord, to die together.
OFF. The Queen, my Lord Southampton, has been

To grant particular mercy to your person;
And has by us sent you a reprieve from death,
With pardon of your treasons, and commands
You to depart immediately from hence.

South. O my unguarded soul! Sure never was
A man with mercy wounded fo before.

Ess. Then I am loose to fteer my wand'ring voyage ;
Like a bad vessel that has long been croft,
And bound by adverse winds, at last gets liberty,
And joyfully makes all the fail she can,
To reach its with’d-for port-Angels protect
The Queen ; for her my chiefelt prayers fall be,
That as in time she has spar'd my noble friend,
And owns his crimes worth mercy, may she ne'er
Think so of me too late when I am dead-
Again, Southampton, let me hold thee falt,
For 'tis my last embrace.

South. () be less kind, my friend, or move less pity,
Or I shall fink beneath the weight of sadness !
I weep that I am doom'd to live without you,
And thould have smil'd to share the death of Effex.

Ess. O spare this tenderness for one that needs it,
For her that I commit to thee, 'tis all that I
Can claim of my Southampton-O my wife!


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Methinks that very name Mould stop thy pity,
And make thee covetous of all as loft
That is not meant to her be a kind friend
To her, as we have been to one another;
Name not the dying Eflex to thy Queen,
Left it should cost a tear, nor e'er offend her.

South. O ftay, my Lord; let me have one word more;
One last farewel, before the greedy axe
Shall part my friend, my only friend, from me,
And Ellex from himself-I know not what
Are call'd the pangs of death, but sure I am
I feel an agony that's worse than death

Ess. Why, that's well faid-Farewel to thee
Then let us part, just like two travellers,
Take diftant paths, only this difference is,
Thine is the longes, mine the shortest way
Now let me gommif there's a throne in heaven
For the most brave of men and best of friends,
I will be peak it for Southampton.

South. And I, while I have life, will hoard thy memory; When I am dead, we then thall meet again.

Ess. Till then, Farewel.
South. Till then, Farewel.



JAFF. By Heav'n, you ftir not!
I must be heard, I must have leave to speak !
Thou hast disgrac'd me, Pierre, by a vile blow !
Had not a dagger done thee nobler justice ?
But ufe me as thou wilt, thou canst not wrong me,
For I am fallen beneath the baseft injuries :
Yet look upon me with an eye of mercy ;

With pity and with charity behold me;
Shut not thy heart against a friend's repentance;
But, as there dwells a godlike nature in thee,
Liften with mildness to my fupplications.

Per. What whining monk art thou? what holy cheat,
That wouldst encroach upon my credulous ears,
And cant'st thus vilely? hence! I know thee not.

JAFF. Not know me, Pierre!
Pier. No, know thee not; what art thou ?

JAFF. Jaffier, thy friend, thy once lov'd, valu'd friend! Tho' now deserv’dly scorn’d and us'd most hardiy.

Pier. Thou Jaffier ! thou my once lov’d valu'd friend! By heav'ns thou ly’st; the man so call’d, my friend, Was generous, honest, faithful, just, and valiant, Noble in mind, and in his person lovely, Dear to my eyes, and tender to my heart : But thou a wretched, base, false, worthless coward, Poor even in soul, and loathsome in thy aspect; All eyes must thun thee, and all hearts detest thee. Prithee avoid, nor longer cling thus round me, Like something baneful, that my nature's chill'd at. JAFF. I have not wrong'd thee; by these tears I have

not ; But still am honest, true, and hope too, valiant; My mind still full of thee, therefore still noble. Let not thy eyes then shun me, nor thy heart Detest me utterly : Oh! look upon me, Look back and see my sad, sincere submission ! How my heart swells, as e'en 'twould burst my bosom. Fond of its goal, and labouring to be at thee; What shall I do? what say to make thee hear me? Pier. Halt thou not wrong'd me? dar'ít thou call

thyself That once loy'd, valu'd friend of mine,

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