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To graze the ranker mead ; that noble herd He straight revokes his bold resolve, and more
On whose sublime and shady fronts is reard Repents his courage than his fear before ;
Nature's great masterpiece, to show how soon Finds that uncertain ways unsafest are,
Great things are made, but sooner are undone. And doubt a greater mischief than despair.
Here have I seen the * King, when great affairs

Then to the stream, when neither friends, nor force, Gave leave to slacken and unbend his cares,

Nor speed, nor art, avail, he shapes his course; Attended to the chase by all the flow'r

Thinks not their rage so desp'rate to essay Of youth, whose hopes a nobler prey devour; An element more merciless than they. Pleasure with praise and danger they would buy, But fearless they pursue, nor can the flood And wish a foe that would not only fly.

Quench their dire thirst: alas! they thirst for The stag now conscious of his fatal growth,

blood. At once indulgent to his fear and sloth,

So t'wards a ship the oar-finn'd galleys ply, To some dark covert his retreat had made, Which wanting sea to ride, or wind to fly, Where nor man's eye, nor heaven's should invade Stands but to fall revenged on those that dare His soft repose ; when th' unexpected sound Tempt the last fury of extreme despair. Of dogs and men his wakeful ear does wound. So fares the stag; among th' enraged hounds Roused with the noise, he scarce believes his ear, Repels their force, and wounds returns for Willing to think th' illusions of his fear

wounds :
Had given this false alarm, but straight his view And as a hero, whom his baser foes
Confirms that more than all he fears is true. In troops surround, now these assails, now those,
Betray'd in all his strengths, the wood beset, Though prodigal of life, disdains to die
All instruments, all arts of ruin met,

By common hands; but if he can descry
He calls to mind his strength, and then his speed, Some nobler foe approach, to him he calls,
His winged heels, and then his armed head; And begs his fate, and then contented falls.
With these t'avoid, with that his fate to meet ; So when the king a mortal shaft lets fly
But fear prevails, and bids him trust his feet. From his unerring hand, then glad to die,
So fast he flies, that his reviewing eye

Proud of the wound, to it resigns his blood,
Has lost the chasers, and his ear the cry;

And stains the crystal with a purple flood. Exulting, till he finds their nobler sense

This a more innocent and happy chase Their disproportion'd speed doth recompense ;

Than when of old, but in the self-same place, Then curses his conspiring feet, whose scent Fair Liberty pursued, and meant a prey Betrays that safety which their swiftness lent:

To lawless power,

here turn'd, and stood at bay; Then tries his friends ; among the baser herd,

When in that remedy all hope was placed Where he so lately was obey'd and fear'd, Which was, or should have been at least, the last. His safety seeks: the herd, unkindly wise,

Here was that Charter seal'd wherein the crown Or chases him from thence or from him flies. All marks of arbitrary power lays down ; Like a declining statesman, left forlorn

Tyrant and slave, those names of hate and fear, To his friends' pity, and pursuers' scorn,

The happier style of king and subject bear: With shame remembers, while himself was one Happy when both to the same centre move, Of the same herd, himself the same had done. When kings give liberty and subjects love. Thence to the coverts and the conscious groves,

Therefore not long in force this Charter stood; The scenes of his past triumphs and his loves, Wanting that seal, it must be seal'd in blood. Sadly surveying where he ranged alone,

The subjects arm’d, the more their princes gave, Prince of the soil, and all the herd his own, Th' advantage only took the more to crave; And like a bold knight-errant did proclaim Till kings, by giving, giye themselves away, Combat to all, and bore away the dame,

And ev’n that power that should deny betray. And taught the woods to echo to the stream “ Who gives constrain'd, but his own fear reviles, His dreadful challenge, and his clashing beam; Not thank’d, but scorn'd; nor are they gifts, but Yet faintly now declines the fatal strife,

spoils.” So much his love was dearer than his life.

Thus kings, by grasping more than they could Now ev'ry leaf, and ev'ry moving breath

hold, Presents a foe, and ev'ry foe a death.

First made their subjects by oppression bold; Wearied, forsaken, and pursued, at last

And popular sway, by forcing kings to give All safety in despair of safety placed,

More than was fit for subjects to receive, Courage he thence resumes, resolved to bear Ran to the same extremes; and one excess All their assaults, since 'tis in vain to fear. Made both, by striving to be greater, less. And now, too late, he wishes for the fight When a calm river, raised with sudden rains, That strength he wasted in ignoble flight; Or snows dissolved, o'erflows th' adjoining plains, But when he sees the eager chase renew'd,

The husbandmen with high-raised banks secure Himself by dogs, the dogs by men pursued,

Their greedy hopes, and this he can endure;

But if with bays and dams they strive to force (* Originally, our Charles.]

His channel to a new or narrow course,

Sea. We heard it too
In Paul's now as we came.

Plot. There, friend, there is
A fare for you ; I'm glad you 'scaped; I had
Not known the news so soon else. [Gives him money.

Cyph. Sir, excuse me.

Plot. Sir, it is conscience; I do believe you might Sue me in chancery.

Cyph. Sir, you show the virtues of an heir.
Ware. Are you rich Warehouse's heir, sir ?

Plot. Yes, sir, his transitory pelf,
And some twelve hundred pound a year in earth,
Is cast on me. Captain, the hour is come,
You shall no more drink ale, of which one draught
Makes cowards, and spoils valour ; nor take off
Your moderate quart-glass. I intend to have
A musket for you, or glass cannon, with
A most capacious barrel, which we'll charge
And discharge with the rich valiant grape
Of my uncle's cellar ; every charge shall fire
The glass, and burn itself i' th' filling, and look
Like a piece going off.

Quart. I shall be glad To give thanks for you, sir, in pottle draughts, And shall love Scotch-coal for this wreck the better As long as I know fuel.

Plot. Then my poet No longer shall write catches, or thin sonnets, Nor preach in verse as if he were suborn'd By him that wrote the Whip, to pen lean acts, And so to overthrow the stage for want Of salt or wit. Nor shall he need torment Or persecute his muse ; but I will be His god of wine t’inspire him. He shall no more Converse with the five-yard butler ; who, like

thunder, Can turn beer with his voice, and roar it sour : But shall come forth a Sophocles and write Things for the buskin. Instead of Pegasus, To strike a spring with’s hoof, we'll have a steel Which shall but touch a butt, and straight shall A purer, higher, wealthier Helicon. [flow

Sale. Frank, thou shalt be my Phoebus. My next Shall be thy uncle's tragedy, or the Life (poem And Death of two Rich Merchants.

Plot. Gentlemen,
And now i' faith what think you of the fish ?

Ware. Why as we ought, sir, strangely.
Bright. But d’you think it is a very fish?
Sea. Yes,
New. 'Tis a man.

Plot. This valiant captain and this man of wit First fox'd him, then transform'd him. We will

wake him,
And tell him the news. Ho, Mr. Timothy !

T'im. Plague take you, captain.
Plot. What ! does your sack work still?
Tim. Where am I?
Plot. Come, y’have slept enough.

Bright. Mr. Timothy !
How in the name of fresh cod came you changed
Into a sea-calf thus?

New. 'Slight, sir, here be
Two fishmongers to buy you, beat the price;
Now y'are awake yourself.

Tim. How's this ! my hands
Transmuted into claws ? my feet made flounders ?
Array'd in fins and scales ? Are n't you
Ashamed to make me such a monster ? Pray
Help to undress me.

Plot. We have rare news for you.
Tim. No letter from the lady, I hope?

Plot. Your father,
And my grave uncle, sir, are cast away.

Tim. How ?

Plot. They by this have made a meal
For jacks and salmon : they are drown'd.

Bright. Fall down,
And worship sea-coals, for a ship of them
Has made you, sir, an heir.

Plot. This fellow here
Brings the auspicious news: and these two friends
Of ours confirm it.

Cyph. "Tis too true, sir.

Tim. Well,
We are all mortal ; but in what wet case
Had I been now,

if I had gone with him !
Within this fortnight I had been converted
Into some pike, you might ha' cheap'ned ine
In Fish-street; I had made an ordinary,
Perchance, at the Mermaid. Now could I cry
Like any image in a fountain which
Runs lamentations. O my hard misfortune !

[11e frigns to weep. Sea. Fie, sir! good truth, it is not manly in you, To weep for such a slight loss as a father.

Tim. I do not cry for that.
Sea. No

Tim. No, but to think,
My mother is not drown's too.

Sea. I assure you,
And that a shrewd mischance.

Tim. For then might I
Ha' gone to th' counting-house, and set at liberty
Those harmless angels, which for many years
Have been condemn'd to darkness.

Plot. You'd not do
Like your penurious father, who was wont
To walk his dinner out in Paul's, whilst you
Kept Lent at home, and had, like folk in sieges,
Your meals weigh'd to you.
New. Indeed they say he was a monument of

im. Yes, he was there
As constant as Duke Humphrey. I can show
The prints where he sate, holes i' th' logs.

Plot. He wore
More pavement out with walking than would make
A row of new stone-saints, and yet refused
To give to th' reparation.

Bright. I've heard He'd make his jack go empty, to cozen neighbours.

Plot. Yes, when there was not fire enough to warın A mastich-patch t apply to his wife's temples,

In great extremity of tooth-ache. This is

Broke in estate, and then broke from the Counter, True, Mr. Timothy, is't not !

Where Mr. Seathrift laid him in the hole Tini. Yes: then linen

For debt, among the ruins of the city, To us was stranger than to Capuchins.

And trades like him blown up, take thee from dust, My flesh is of an order, with wearing shirts Give thee free education, put thee in Made of the sacks that brought o'er cochineal, My own fair way of traffic ; nay, decree Copperas, and indigo. My sister wears

To leave thee jewels, land, my whole estate, Smocks made of currant-bags.

Pardon'd thy former wildness, and couldst thou sort Sea. I'll not endure it ;

Thyself with none but idle gallants, captains, Let's show ourselves.

And poets, who must plot before they eat, Ware. Stay, hear all first.

And make each meala stratagem? Then could none New. Thy uncle was such another.

But I be subject of thy impious scoffs ? Bright. I have heard

I swoon at sight of meat ; I rise a glutton He still last left th’Exchange; and would commend From half an orange: Wretch, forgetful wretch! The wholesomeness o'th' air in Moor-fields, when 'Fore heaven I count it treason in my blood The clock struck three sometimes.

That gives thee a relation. But I'll take Plot. Surely myself,

A full revenge. Make thee my heir ! I'll first Cypher his factor, and an ancient cat,

Adopt a slave, brought from some galley ; one Did keep strict diet, had our Spanish fare, Which laws do put into the inventory, Four olives among three. My uncle would And men bequeath in wills with stools, and brassLook fat with fasting ; I ha' known him surfeit

pots ; Upon a bunch of raisins ; swoon at sight

One who shall first be household-stuff, then my heir. Of a whole joint, and rise an epicure

Or to defeat all thy large aims, I'll marry. From half an orange.

[They undisguise. Cypher, go find me Baneswright ; he shall straight Ware. Gentlemen, 'tis false.

Provide me a wife. I will not stay to let Cast off your cloud. D'you know me, sir ! My resolution cool. Be she a wench Plol. My uncle !

That every day puts on her dowry, wears Sea. And do you know me, sir ?

Her fortunes, has no portion, so she be Tim. My father!

Young and likely to be fruitful, I'll have her : Ware. Nay,

By all that's good, I will ; this afternoon ! We'll open all the plot, reveal yourself.

I will about it straight. Plot. Cypher the waterman !

Sea. I follow you.

(Ex. WARE. CYPHER. Quart. Salewit, away!

And as for you, Tim, mermaid, triton, haddock, I feel a tempest coming. (Ex. Quart. and Salewit. The wond'rous Indian fish caught near Peru, Ware. Are you struck

Who can be of both elements, your sight With a torpedo, nephew ?

Will keep you well. Here I do cast thee off, Sea. Ha' you seen too

And in thy room pronounce to make thy sister A Gorgon's head, that you stand speechless ? or My heir ; it would be most unnatural Are you a fish in earnest ?

To leave a fish on land. 'Las ! sir, one of your Bright. It begins to thunder.

Bright fins and gills must swim in seas of sack, New. We will make bold to take our leaves. Spout rich canaries up like whales in maps; Ware. What, is your captain fled ?

I know you'll not endure to see my jack
Sea. Nay, gentlemen, forsake your company ! Go empty, nor wear shirts of copperas-bags,
Bright. Sir, we have business.

Nor fast in Paul's, you. I do hate thee now, Sea. Troth, it is not kindly done.

Worse than a tempest, quicksand, pirate, rock,

(Exeunt BRIGHT, NEW. Or fatal lake, ay, or a privy-seal. Ware. Now, Mr. Seathrift,

Go let the captain make you drunk, and let You see what mourners we had had, had we Your next change be into some ape, ('tis stale Been wreck'd in earnest. My grieved nephew here To be a fish twice) or some active baboon. Had made my cellar flow with tears, my wines And when you can find money out, betray Had charged glass-ordnance, our funerals had been What wench i' th' room has lost her maidenhead Bewail'd in pottle-draughts.

Can mount to th' king, and can do all your feats, Sea. And at our graves

If your fine chain and yellow coat come near Your nephew and my son had made a panegyric, Th’ Exchange, I'll see you ; so I leave you. And open'd all our virtues.

Plot. Now

[Ex. Sra. Ware. Ungrateful monster!

Were there a dext'rous beam and two-pence hemp, Sea. Unnatural villain !

Never had man such cause to hang himself. Ware. Thou enemy to my blood !

Tim. I have brought myself to a fine pass too. Sea. Thou worse than parricide !

Ware. Next my sins, 1 do repent I am thy uncle. Am I fit only to be caught, and put
Sea. And I thy father.

(father Into a pond to leap carps, or beget Ware. Death o' my soul! Did I, when first thy | A goodly race of pickrel.

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Richard BRATHWAITE, mentioned incidentally lieutenant of the county. His latter days were by Warton as a pastoral poet, but more valuable spent near Richmond, in Yorkshire, where he as a fluent though inelegant satirist, was the son of died with a highly respectable character. To Thomas Brathwaite of Warcop, near Appleby, in the list of his pieces enumerated by Wood two Westmorland. When he had finished his educa- have been since added by Mr. Ellis and Mr. tion at both universities, his father gave him the Malone, amounting in all to nineteen, among estate of Barnside, in Westmorland, where he which are two tragi-comedies, Mercurius Britanheld a commission in the militia, and was deputy- | nicus and the Regicidium.


But a strange ghost appear'd and forced him stay,
With which perplext he thus began to say:
“ Good spirit if thou be, I need no charm,
For well I know thou wilt not do me harm ;
And if the devil, sure thou shouldst not hurt:
I wed thy sister, and am plagued for't.”

A man there was who had lived a merry life
Till in the end he took to him a wife,
One that no image was, for she could speak,
And now and then her husband's costrel break;
This drove the poor man to a discontent,
And oft and many times did he repent
That e'er he changed his former quiet state ;
But ’las ! repentance then did come too late,
No cure he finds to heal this malady,
But makes a virtue of necessity.
The common cure for care to every man,
A pot of nappy ale, where he began
To fortify his brains 'gainst all should come,
'Mongst which the clamour of hiswife's loud tongue.
This habit grafted in him grew so strong,
That when he was from ale an hour seem'd long,
So well he liked the potion. On a time,
Having staid long at pot—for rule or line
Limits no drunkard—even from morn to night,
He hasted home apace by the moonlight,
Where as he went what phantasies were bred,
I do not know, in his distemper'd head,

The spirit, well approving what he said,
Dissolved to air and quickly vanished.

(* There is, perhaps, no work in English which illustrates more fully and amusingly the manners, occupations, and opinions of the time when it was written than Brathwaite's Strappado; but it is a strange, undigested and ill-arranged collection of poems, of various kinds and of different degrees of merit, some of them composed considerably before the rest, but few without claims to notice. The principal part consists of satires and epigrams, although the author purposely confounds the distinction between the two:

I call't an Epigram which is a Satire. He never scruples to use the plainest terms, and though he seldom inserts names, he spares neither rank nor condition.--COLLIER, Bridge. Cat. p. 32.]


(Bora, 1698. Died, 1674.]

If the memory of Milton has been outraged Arcades, presents an inspiring idea of human by Dr. Johnson's hostility, the writings of Black beatitude. burne, Hayley, and, above all, of Symmons, may When turned of thirty he went to Italy, the be deemed sufficient to have satisfied the poet's most accomplished Englishman that ever visited injured shade. The apologies for Milton have i her classical shores. The attentions that were indeed been rather full to superfluity than defec there shown to him are well known. We find tive. Dr. Johnson's triumphant regret at the

him at the same time, though a stranger and a supposed whipping of our great poet at the uni- heretic, boldly expressing his opinions within the versity, is not more amusing than the alarm of verge of the Vatican. There, also, if poetry ever his favourable biographers at the idea of admitting deigns to receive assistance from the younger it to be true. From all that has been written on art, his imagination may have derived at least the subject, it is perfectly clear that Milton congenial impressions from the frescot's of committed no offence at college which could Michael Angelo, and the pictures of Raphael ; deserve an ignominious punishment. Admitting and those impressions he may have possibly Aubrey's authority for the anecdote, and his recalled in the formation of his great poem, authority is not very high, it points out the punish when his eyes were shut upon the world, and ment not as a public infliction, but as the personal when he looked inwardly for "godlike shapes act of his tutor, who resented or imagined some and forms," unkindnesses.

In the eventful year after his return from the The youthful history of Milton, in despite of Continent, the fate of Episcopacy, which was yet this anecdote, presents him in an exaited and undecided, seemed to depend chiefly on the amiable light. His father, a man of no ordinary influence which the respective parties could attainments, and so accomplished a musician* as exercise upon the public mind, through the to rank honourably among the composers of his medium of the press, which was now set at liberty age, intended him for the ministry of the church, by the ordinance of the Long Parliament. Miland furnished him with a private tutor, who ton's strength led him foremost on his own side probably seconded his views; but the piety that of the controversy; he defended the five ministers, was early instilled into the poet's mind grew up,

whose book was entitled Smectymnuus', against with the size of his intellect, into views of religious the learning and eloquence of Bishop Hall and independence that would not have suited any Archbishop Usher, and became, in literary wardefinite ecclesiastical pale ; and if Milton had fare, the bulwark of his party. It is performing become a preacher, he must have founded a this and similar services, which Dr. Johnson calls church of his own.

Whilst a boy, the intensity Milton's va pouring away his patriotism in keeping of his studies laid the seeds of his future blind a private boarding-house ; and such are the ness; and at that period the Latin verses addressed slender performances at which that critic proposes to his father attest not only the prematurity of that we should indulge in some degree of merrihis attainments, but the endearing strength of his ment. Assuredly, if Milton wielded the pen affections.

instead of the sword, in public dispute, his enemies The few years which he spent at his father's had no reason to regard the former weapon as house, at Horton, in Buckinghamshire, after either idle or impotent in his hand. An invitation leaving the university, and before setting out ou to laugh on such an occasion, may remind us of his travels, were perhaps the happiest in his life. what Sternhold and Hopkins denominate “awful In the beautiful scenery of that spot, disinclined mirth ;" for of all topics which an enemy to to any profession by his universal capacity, and Milton's principles could select, his impotence thirst for literature, he devoted himself to study, in maintaining them is the most unpropitious to and wrote the most exquisite of his minor poems. merriment. Such a mind, in the opening prime of its genius, The most difficult passage of his life for his enjoying rural leisure and romantic walks, and biographers to comment upon with entire satisluxuriating in the production of Comus and the faction, is his continued acceptance of Cromwell's

wages after Cromwell had become a tyrant. It * Milton was early instructed in music. As a poet ho

would be uncandid to deny, that his fear of the speaks like one habituated to inspiration under its influence, and seems to have attached considerable import

return of the Stuarts, the symptoms of his havin ance to the science in his system of education,

† From the initial letters of their names.

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