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Contrive who need; or when they need, noč now.
For while they sit contriving, shall the rest,
Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait
The signal to ascend, sit ling’ring here,
Heaven's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place
Accept this dark opprobrious den of shaine,
The prison of his tyranny, who reigns
By our delay ? No; let us rather choose,
Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once,
O’or heaven'a high vers to force resistless way,
Turning our tortures into horrid arms,
Against the tort'rer; when, to meet the noise
Of his almighty engine, he shall hear
Infernal thunder; and for lightning, see
Black fire and horror shot with equal rage
Among his angels and his throne itself,
Mix'd with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire,
His own invented torments. But perhaps,
The way seems difficult and steep to scale,
With upright wing, against a higher foe.
Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench
Of that forgetful lake benumb not still,
That in our proper motion we ascend
Up to our native seat ; descent and fall
To us is adverse. Who but felt of late,
When the fierce foe hung upon our broken rear
Insulting, and pursued us through the deep,
With what compulsion and laborious flight,
We sunk thus low? Th' ascent is easy then,
Th' event is fear'd. Shouhl we again provoke
Our stronger, some worse way his wra.h may find,
To our destruction; if there be in hell,
Fear to be worse destroy'd: What can be worse
Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemn'd
In this abhorred deep to utter wo;
Where pain of unextinguishable fire,
Must exercise us without hope of end,
The vassals of his anger, when the scourge
Inexorable, and the tort'ring hour
Calls us to penance ? More destroy'd than thus
We should be quite abolish'd and expire.
What fear we then? What doubt we to incense
His utmost ire ? Which to the height enrag'd,
Will either quite consume us, and reduce
To nothing this essential, (happier far,
Than miserable, to have eternal being)
Or if our substance be indeed divine,
And cannot cease to be, we are at worst
On this side nothing; and by proof we feel
Our power sufficient to disturb this heaven,
And with perpetual inroads tu alarm,
Though inaccessible, his fatal throne;
Which, if not victory, is yet reveage.

Сс

XV.--Speech of Beliai, advising Peace.

I SHOULD be much for open war, O peers, As not behind in hate, if what was urg'd Main reason to persuade immediate war, Did not dissuade the most, ard seem to cast Ominous conjecture on the whole success ; When he who most excels in feats of arms, In what he counsels, and in what excels, Mistrustful, grounds bis courage on despair And utter dissolution, as the scope Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. First, what revenge? The towers of heaven are fill'd With armed watch, that render all access Impregnable ; oft on the bordering deep Encamp their legions : or, with obscure wing, Scout far and wide, into the realm of night, Scorning surprise. Or, could we break our way By force, and at our heels all hell should rise With blackest insurrection, to confound Heaven's purest light-yet our great enemy, All incorruptible, would on his throne, Sit unpolluted ; and th' ethereal mould, Incapable of stain, would soon expel Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope Is flat despair. We must exasperate Th’ almighty victor to spend all his rage, And that must end us ; that must be our cure, To be no more. Sad fate! For who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish ruther, swallowed up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated night, Devoid of sense and motion ? And who knows, Let this be good, whether our angry foe Can give it, or will ever? How he can, Is doubtful; that he never will, is sure. Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire, Belike through impotence, or unaware, To give his enemies their wish, and end Them in his anger, whom his anger saves To punish endless ? Wherefore cease we then ? Say they who counsel war, we are decreed, Reservd and destind to eternal wo; Whatever doing, what can suffer more, What can we suffer worse? Is this then worst, Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? What, when we fled amain, pursu'd and struck With heaven's afflicting thunder, and besought The deep to shelter us? This hell then seem'd A rofüge from those wounds ; or when we lay

Chain d on the burning lake ? That sure was worse
What if the breath that kindled those grim fires,
Awak'd, should blow them into sevenfold rage,
And plunge us in the flames? Or, from above,
Should intermitted vengeance arm again
His red right hand to płague us? What if all
Her stores were open'd, and this firmament
Of hell should spout her cataracts of fire,
Impendent horrors, threat’ning hideous fall
One day upon our heads; while we, perhaps,
Designing or exhorting glorious war,
Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurld
Each on his rock transfix'd, the sport and prey
Of wrecking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk
Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains;
There to converse with everlasting groans,
Unrespited, unpitied, unrepriev'd,
Ages of hopeless end! This would be worse.
War, therefore, open or conceal'd, alike
My voice dissuades.

SECTION V.

DRAMATIC PIECES.

1.--DIALOGUE.

1.-Belcour and Stockwell, Stock. MR. BELCOUR, I am rejoiced to see you; you are welcome to England. Bel. I thank you hcartily, good Mr. Stockwell.

You and I have long conversed at a distance; now we are met; and the pleasure this meeting gives me, amply compensates for the perils I have run through in accomplishing it.

Stock. What perils, Mr. Belcour? I could not have thought you would have met with a bad passage at this time o'year.

Bel. Nor did we. Courier-like, we came posting to your shores, upon the pinions of the swiftest gales that ever blew. It is upon English ground all my difficulties have arisen, it is the passage from the river-side I complain of.

Stock. Indeed! What obstructions can you have met between this and the river-side ?

Bel. Innumerable! Your town's as full of defiles as the island of Corsica; and I believe they are as obstinately defended. So much hurry, bustle, and confusion, on your quays; so many sugar casks, porter butts, and common council men, in your streets; that, unless a man marched with artillery in his front, it is more than the labour of a Hercules can effect, to make any tolerable way through your town.

Stock. I am sorry you have been so incommoded.

Bel. Why, truly, it was all my own fault. Accustomed to a land of slaves, and out of patience with the whole tribe of custom-house extortioners, boatmen, tidewaiters, and water-bailiffs, that beset me on all sides, worse than a swarm of moschetoes, I proceeded a little toc roughly to brush them away with my ratan. The sturdy rogues took this in dudgeon; and beginning to rebel, the mob chose differont sides, and a furious scuffle ensued; in the course of which, my person and apparel suffered so much, that I was obliged to step into the first tavern to refit, before I could make my approaches in any decent trim.

Stock. Well, Mr. Belcour, it is a rough sample you have had of my countrymen's spirit; but I trust you will not think the worse of them for it.

Bel. Not at all, not at all : I like them the better.-Were I only a visiter, I might perhaps wish them a little more tractable ; but, as a fellow subject, and a sharer in their freedom, I applaud their spirit--though I feel the effects of it in every bone in my skin.- -Well, Mr. Stockwell, for the first time in my life, here am I in England; at the fountain head of pleasure; in the land of beauty, of arts, and elegancies. My happy stars have given me a good estate, and the conspiring winds have blown me hither to spend it.

Stock. To use it, not to waste it, I should hope ; to treat it, Mr. Belcour, not as a vassal over whom you have a wanton despotic power, but as a subject whom you are bound to govern with a temperate and restrained authority.

Bel. True, Sir, most truly said ; mine's a commission, not a right : I am the offspring of distress, and every child of sorrow is my brother. While I have hands to hold, therefore, I will hold them open to mankind. But, Sir, my passions are my masters; they take me where they will ; and oftentimes they leave to reason and virtue, nothing but my wishes and my sighs.

Stock. Come, come, the man who can accuse, corrects himself.

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Bel. Ah! that is an office I am weary of. I wish a friend would take it up: I would to heaven you had leisure for the employ. But, did you drive a trade to the four corners of the world, you would not find the task so toilsome as to keep me free from faults. Stock. Well

, I am not discouraged. This candour tells me I should not have the fault of self-conceit to combat , that, at least, is not among the number.

Bel. No; if I knew that man on earth who thought more humbly of me than I do of myself, I would take his opinion and forego my own.

Stock. And were I to choose a pupil, it should be one of your complexion : so if you will come along with me, we will agree upon your admission, and enter upon a course of lectures directly. Bel. With all my heart.

II.-Lady Townly and Lady Grace. Lady T. OH, my dear Lady Grace! how could you leave me so urmercifully alone all this while ?

Lady G. I thought my lord had been with you.

Lady T. Why, yes and therefore I wanted your relief; for he has been in such a fluster here

Lady G. Bless me! for what?

Lady T. Only our usual breakfast ; we have each of us had our dish of matrimonial comfort this morning--we have been charming company.

Lady G. I am mighty glad of it; sure it must be a vast happiness when man and wife can give themselves the same turn of conversation !

Lady T. Oh, the prettiest thing in the world!

Lady G. Now I should be afraid, that where two people are every day together so, they must be often in want af something to talk upon.

Lady T. Oh, my dear, you are the most mistaken in the world ! married people have things to talk of, child, that never enter into the imagination of othersWhy, here's my lord and I, now, we have not been married above two short years, you know, and we have already eight or ten things constantly in bank, that whenever we want company, we can take up any one of them for two hours together, and the subject never the flatter ; nay, if we have occasion for it, it will be as fresh next day too, as it was the first hour it entertained us.

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