M. Gri. O, I must get rid of this fellow! Was there ever such a provoking scamp? He will kill me with vexation. Away with you, Sir! Out of my sight! 20. BALTHAZAR AND THE QUACK.-John Tobin. Born, 1770; died, 1804. Balthazar. And now, thou sketch and outline of a man! Thou thing, that hast no shadow in the sun! Thou eel in a consumption, eldest born Of Death on Famine! thou anatomy Of a starved pilchard! Quack. I do confess my leanness. I am spare, Quack. For my patients' sake! Balt. I'll send you to the major part of them. Quack. Pray, consider, Sir, I may hurt some one in the street. Balt. Why, then, I'll rattle thee to pieces in a dice-box. Or grind thee in a coffee-mill to powder: For thou must sup with Pluto; - so, make ready! And nail thee to the wall, where thou shalt look Like a dried beetle with a pin stuck through him. Balt. Thy wife! Quack. My wife, Sir. Balt. Hast thou dared to think of matrimony, too? No conscience, and take a wife! Quack. I have a wife, and three angelic babes, Who, by those looks, are well-nigh fatherless! Balt. Well, well, your wife and children shall plead for you. Come, come, the pills! where are the pills? produce them. Balt. Were it Pandora's, and each single pill Had ten diseases in it, you should take them. Quack. What, all? Balt. Ay, all; and quickly, too;-come, Sir, begin! That's well; another. Quack. One's a dose ! Balt. Proceed, Sir. Quack. What will become of me? I do beseech you let me have some drink, Some cooling liquid, Sir, to wash them down' Balt. O, yes-produce the vial! Balt. Come, Sir, your new 'invented patent draught: Quack. May I entreat to make my will first? Balt. No; you have naught but physic to bequeath; Quack. Just to step home, and see my wife and children? Quack. Let me go home and set my shop to rights, Bult. Away, and thank thy lucky star I have not Quack. Would I were one! for they can feed on air. [Exit.] There are some noble touches in the following dialogue, from Lee's tragedy of "Lucius Junius Brutus," although from the pen of a poet who mingled the extravagance of a madman with the inspirations of genius. Lee was born in Hertfordshire, England, in 1651, and died in He was for some time confined in a mad-house, being for nearly four years a raving 1692. maniac. Brutus. Well, Titus, speak; how is it with thee now? I would attend a while this mighty motion, Wait till the tempest were quite overblown, So hushed a stillness, as if all the gods Looked down and listened to what we were saying: My son, my Titus! is all well again? Titus. So well, that saying how must make it nothing: So well, that I could wish to die this moment, For so my heart, with powerful throbs, persuades me: That were indeed to make you reparation; That were, my Lord, to thank you home - to die! And that, for Titus, too, would be most happy. Brutus. How's that, my son? would death for thee be happy All those affronts which I, in life, must look for; N Each single scorn would be far worse than dying. Groans and convulsions, and discolored faces, Yes, Sir; I call the powers of Heaven to witness, Brutus. Thou perfect glory of the Junian race! Bares his sad head, and passes sentence on thee. Shall never see thee more! Titus. Why art thou moved thus? Alas! my Lord, Why am I worth thy sorrow Why should the godlike Brutus shake to doom me? Why all these trappings for a traitor's hearse? The gods will have it so.. Brutus. They will, my Titus; Nor Heaven nor earth can have it otherwise. 'Tis fixed; O, therefore, let not fancy dupe thee! So fixed thy death, that 't is not in the power Of gods or men to save thee from the axe. Titus. The axe! O, Heaven! must I, then, fall so basely? What! Shall I perish by the common hangman? Brutus. If thou deny me this, thou giv'st me nothing. Yes, Titus, since the gods have so decreed That I must lose thee, I will take the advantage Of thy important fate; cement Rome's flaws, And heal her wounded freedom with thy blood. I will ascend myself the sad tribunal, And sit upon my son on thee, my Titus : Behold thee suffer all the shame of death, The lictor's lashes, bleed before the people; Then, with thy hopes and all thy youth upon thee, Without a groan, without one pitying tear (If that the gods can hold me to my purpose), To make my justice quite transcend example. Titus. Scourged like a bondman! Ha! a beaten slave! But I deserve it all; yet, here I fail ;} The image of this suffering quite unmans me. O, Sir! O, Brutus! must I call you father Yet have no token of your tenderness ?! No sign of mercy? What! not bate me that? Of cruel rigor? To behold me, too; To sit, unmoved, and see me whipped to death! Ah, Sir, why should you make my heart suspect Brutus. Think that I love thee, by my present passion, Think that no other cause on earth could move me To tremble thus, to sob, or shed a tear, Nor shake my solid virtue from her point, Titus. O, rise, thou violated majesty! 22 For want of spirits, grovelling in the dust, Then, take my head, and give it to his justice: CATO'S SOLILOQUY ON IMMORTALITY. - Addison. Born, 1672; died, 1 19. Ir must be so. Plato, thou casorest well! Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, 'Tis Heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, Eternity!-thou pleasing, dreadful thought! it. --- Through what new scenes and changes must we pass! Thus am I doubly armed. My death and life, The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. 23. QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.-Shakspeare. Cassius. That you have wronged me, doth appear in this: You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella, For taking bribes here of the Sardians; Wherein my letters (praying on his side, Brutus. You wronged yourself to write in such a case. That every nice offence should bear its comment. * The dagger. |