And a quick active blood run free and fresh
Through your veins.
Dysc. am turn'd boy again!
A very stripling, school-boy; have I not
The itch and kibes, am I not scabb'd and mangy
About the wrists and hams.
Colox. Still Dyscolus
Dysc. Dyscolus! and why Dyscolus, when were we
Grown so familiar; Dyscolus by my name,
Sure we are Pylades and Orestes, are we not?
Speak, good Pylades.
Colax. Nay, worthy sir,
Pardon my error, 'twas without intent
Of an offence, I'll find some other name
To call you by —
Dysc. What do you mean to call me ?
Fool, ass, or knave? my name is not so bad
As that I am asham'd on't.
Colax. Still you take all worse than it was meant, You are too jealous.
Dysc. Jealous ! I ha' not cause for't, my wife's honest; Dost see my horns, dost? if thou dost, Write cuckold in my forehead; do, write cuckold With aqua-fortis, do. Jealous! I am jealous; Free of the company! wife, I am jealous.
Colax. I mean suspicious.
Dysc. How, suspicious ? For what? for treason, felony, or murder? Carry me to the justice : bind me over For a suspicious person! hang me too For a suspicious person! 0, 0, 0, Some courteous plague seize on me, and free my soul From this immortal torment, every thing I meet with is vexation, and this, this Is the vexation of vexations, The hell of hells, and devil of devils,
Flow. For pity sake, fret not the good old gentleman.
Dysc. O! have I not yet torments great enough,
But you must add to my affliction ?
Eternal silence seize you!
Colar. Sir, we strive
To please you, but you still misconstrue us.
Dysc. I must be pleas'd, a very babe, an infant !
I must be pleas'd, give me some pap, or plums,
Buy me a rattle, or a hobby-horse,
Toʻstill me, do! be pleas'd; wouldst have me get
A parasite to be flatter'd?
Colax. How, a parasite?
A cogging, Hattering, slavish parasite?
Things I abhor and hate. 'Tis not the belly
Shall make my brains a captive. Flatterers!
Souls below reason will not stoop so low
As to give up their liberty; only flatterers
Move by another's wheel. They have no passions
Free to themselves. All their affections,
Qualities, humours, appetites, desires,
Nay wishes, vows and prayers, discourse and thoughts,
Are but another's bondman. Let me tug
At the Turks' gallies; be eternally
Damn'd to a quarry: in this state, my mind
Is free: a flatterer has not soul nor body;
What shall I say?-No, I applaud your temper,
That in a generous braveness, takes distaste
At such whose servile nature strives to please you.
"Tis royal in you, Sir.
Dysc. Ha! what's that?
Colax. A feather stuck upon your cloak.
Dysc. A feather!
And what have you to do with my feathers?
Why should you hinder me from telling the world
I do not lie on flock beds?
Colax. Pray be pleas’d.
I brush'd it off for mere respect I bare to you.
Dysc. Respect, a fine respect, sir, is it not,
To make the world believe I nourish vermin?
O death, death, death, if that our graves hatch worms
Without rogues to torment us, let'em have
What teeth they will."
We have next the extremes of fortitude,
" which steer an even course between over-much daring, and over-much fearing,” represented by Aphobus and Deilus.
“ Deil. Is it possible, did you not fear it, say you ?
To me the mere relation is an ague.
Good Aphobus, no more such terrible stories ;
I would not for a world lie alone to night :
I shall have such strange dreams.
Apho. What can there be
That I should fear?—The gods? if they be good,
'Tis sin to fear them ; if not good, no gods;
And then let them fear me. Or are they devils
That must affright me?
Deil. Devils! where, good Aphobus !
I thought there was some conjuring abroad,
'Tis such a terrible wind! O, here it is;
Now it is here again! O still, still, still.
Apho. What's the matter?
Deil. Still it follows me !
The thing in black, behind; soon as the sun
But shines, it haunts me! Gentle spirit, leave me;
Cannot you lay bim, Aphobus? what an ugly look it has,
With eyes as big as saucers, nostrils wider
Than barbers' basons !
Apho. 'Tis nothing, Deilus,
But your weak fancy, that from every object
Draws arguments of fear. This terrible black thing
Deil. Where is it, Aphobus?
Apho. Is but your shadow, Deilus.
Deil. And should we not fear shadows ?
Apho. No, why should we?
Deil. Who knows but they come leering after us
To steal away the substance; watch him, Aphobus.
Apho. I nothing fear.
Colar. I do commend your valour,
That fixes your great soul fast as a centre,
Not to be mov'd with dangers ; let slight cock-boats
Be shaken with a wave, while you stand firm
Like an undaunted rock, whose constant hardness
Rebeats the fury of the raging sea,
Dashing it into froth. Base fear doth argue
A low degenerate soul.
Deil. Now I fear every thing.
Colax. 'Tis your discretion. Every thing has danger,
And therefore every thing is to be fear'd;
I do applaud this wisdom: 'tis a symptom
Of wary providence. His too confident rashness
Argues a stupid ignorance in the soul,
A blind and senseless judgment: give me fear
To man the fort, ’tis such a circumspect
And wary sentinel.
But daring valor,
Uncapable of danger, sleeps securely,
And leaves an open entrance to his enemies.
Deil. What, are they landed ?
Apho. Who?
Deil. The enemies
That Colax talks of.
Apho. If they be, I care not;
Though they be giants all, and arm’d with thunder.
Deil. Why, do you not fear thunder?
Apho. Thunder! no ;
No more than squibs and crackers.
Deil. Squibs and crackers,
I hope there be none here! s’lid, squibs and crackers !
The mere epitomes of the gun-powder treason;
Faux in a lesser volume.
Apho. Let fools gaze
At bearded stars, it is all one to me
As if they had been shav'd—thus, thus would I
Out-beard a meteor, for I might as well
Name it a prodigy when my candle blazes.
Deil. Is there a comet, say you? Nay, I saw it,
It reach'd from Paul's to Charing, and portends
Some certain eminent danger to the inhabitants
'Twist those two places: I'll go get a lodging
Out of its influence.
Colax. Will that serve?-I fear
It threatens general ruin to the kingdom.
Deil, I'll to some other country.
Colax. There's danger to cross the seas.
Deil. Is there no way, good Colax,
To cross the sea by land ? 0 the situation,
The horrible situation of an island!
Colar. You, sir, are far above such frivolous thoughts.
You fear not death.
Apho. Not I.
Colax. Not sudden death.
Apho. No more than sudden sleep : Sir, I dare die.
Deil. I dare not; death to me is terrible :
I will not die.
Apho. How can you, Sir, prevent it?
Deil. Why, I will kill myself.
Colax. A valiant course,
And the right way to prevent death, indeed.
Your spirit is true Roman !But your's greater
That fears not death, nor yet the manner of it.”
We shall next quote the extremes of Meekness. The quarrelsome
Orgilus, and the patient Aorgus.
“ Org. Persuade me not, he has awak'd a fury
That carries steel about him, dags and pistols!
To bite his thumb at me!
Aor. Why should not any man
Bite his own thumb ?
Org. At me! wear I a sword
To see men bite their thumbs-Rapiers and daggers-
He is the son of a whore.
Aor. That burts not you.
Had he bit your's, it had been some pretence
T' have mov'd his anger; he may bite his own
And eat it too.
Org. Muskets and cannons !-eat it?
If he dare eat it in contempt of me,
He shall eat something else too that rides here;
I'll try his ostridge stomach.
Aor. Sir, be patient.
Org. You lie in your throat, and I will not.
Aor. To what purpose is this impertinent madness ?
Pray be milder.
Org. Your mother was a whore, and I will not put it up.
Aor. Why should so slight a toy thus trouble you?
Org. Your father was hang'd, and I will be reveng'd.
Aor. When reason doth in equal balance poise
The nature of two injuries, your's to me
Lies heavy, when that other would not turn
An even scale, and yet it moves not me;
My anger is not up.
Org. But I will raise it;
You are a fool!
Aor. I know it, and shall I
Be angry for a truth?
Org. You are besides
An arrant knave!
Aor. So are my betters, sir.
Org. I cannot move him— my spleen, it rises ;
Por very anger I could eat my knuckles.
Aor. You may, or bite your thumb, all's one to me.
Org. You are a horn'd beast, a very cuckold.
Aor. 'Tis my wife's fault, not mine; I have no reason
Then to be angry for another's sin.” The whole of this play is particularly well worth reading; and as we can thus recommend the whole (a rare instance in Randolph), we feel less compunction at leaving much that is good behind, and in closing our article with the proud Lady Philotimia, “ of too great nicety in her attire," and her sluggish and indolent husband.
“Phil. What mole drest me to day? O patience!
Who would be troubl'd with these mop-ey'd chambermaids?
There's a whole hair on this side more than t other,
I am no lady else! come on, you sloven.
Was ever Christian madam so tormented
To wed a swine as I am! make you ready.
Luparus. I would the tailor had been hang'd for me,
That first invented clothes-0 Nature, Nature !
More cruel unto man than all thy creatures!
Calves come into the world with doublets on,
And oxen have no breeches to put off:
The lamb is born with her frieze coat about her:
Hogs go to bed in rest, and are not troubled
With pulling on their hose and shoes i' th' morning,
With gartering, girdling, trussing, buttoning,
And a thousand torments that afflict humanity.
Phil To see her negligence ! she hath made this cheek
By much too pale, and hath forgotten to whiten
The natural redness of my nose; she knows not
What 'tis wants dealbation. O fine memory!
If she has not set me in the self-same teeth
That I wore yesterday, I am a Jew;
Does she think that I can eat twice with the same,
Or that my mouth stands as the vulgar does ?
What! are you snoring there; you'll rise, you sluggard,
And make you ready.
Lup. Rise, and make you ready!
To works of that, your happy birds make ones
They, when they rise, are ready. Blessed birds !
They, fortunate creatures ! sleep in their own clothes,
And rise with all their feather-beds about them.
Would nakedness were come again in fashion ;
I had some hope then when the breasts went bare,
Their bodies too would have come to it in time.
Phil. Beshrew her fort, this wrinkle is not fill'd.
You'll go and wash-you are a pretty husband.
Lup. Our sow ne'er washes, yet she has a face,
Methinks, as cleanly, madam, as your's is,
If you durst wear your own.
Colax. Madam Superbia,
You're studying the ladies' library,
The looking-glass ; 'tis well : so great a beauty
Must have her ornaments. Nature adorns
The peacock's tail with stars : 'tis she attires
The bird ot' paradise in all her plumes;
She decks the fields with various flowers ; 'tis she
Spangled the heavens with all those glorious lights,
Spotted the ermin's skin, and arm’d the fish
In silver mail. But man she sent forth naked,
Not that he should remain so, but that he,
Endu'd with reason, should adorn himself
With every one of these. The silk-worm is
Only man's spinster, else we might suspect
That she esteem'd the painted butterfly
Above her master-piece. You are the image
Of that bright goddess, therefore wear the jewels
Of all the east; let the red sea be ransack'd
To make you glitter; look on Luparus,
Your husband, there, and see how in a sloven
All the best characters of divinity,
Not yet worn out in man, are lost and buried.
Phil. I see it to my grief, pray counsel him.
Colar. This vanity in your nice lady's humours,
Of being so curious in her toys and dresses,
Makes me suspicious of her honesty.
These cobweb-lawns catch spiders. Sir, believe it;
You know, that those do not commend the man,
But 'tis the living; though this age prefer
A cloak of plush, before a brain of art.
You understand what misery 'tis to have
No worth but that we owe the draper for;
No doubt you spend the time your lady loses
In tricking up her body, to clothe the soul.
Lup. To clothe the soul? must the soul too be clothed?
I protest, sir, I had rather have no soul
Than be tormented with the clothing of it.”
FROM BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGI MAGAZINE.
DOUGLAS ON MISSIONS. * It happens more frequently that we have reason to wonder at the astonishing effects of a religious zeal, than to lament or to rejoice that it has been productive of very little effect, either good or bad. It is a matter of regret, and perhaps of surprise, that the efforts which have been made by this and other countries, to propagate true religion, have
Hints on Missions. By James Douglas, Esq. 12mo. Edinburgh, Blackwood; London, Cadell, 1822. VOL. I. No. 5.- Museum.
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