« السابقةمتابعة »
King. (Aside), Lie, lie! how strange it seems to me to be talked to in this style. (Aloud) Upon my wori I do not, sir.
Miller. Come, come, Sirrah, confess; you have shot one of the king's deer, haven't you?
King. No, indeed, I owe the king more respect. I heard a gun go off be sure, and was afraid some robbers
Miller. I am not bound to believe this, friend. Pray, who are you? What's your game?
Miller. Name! ay, name. You have a name, haven't you? where do you come from, and what business have you here?
King. These are questions I have not been used to, honest man.
Miller. May be so; but they are questions no honest man would be afraid to answer. So if you can give no bet. ter account of yourself, I shall make bold to take you along with
me, till you can. King. With you! What authority have you to
Miller The king's, if I must give you an account. Sir, I am John Cockle, the miller of Mansfield, one of his Majesty's keepers in the forest of Sherwood: and I will let no suspected person pass this way, unless he can give a better account of himself than you have done, I promise you.
King. Very well, sir, I am glad to hear the king has so good an officer; and since I find you have his authority, I will give you a better account of myself, if you will do ne the favour to hear it.
Miller. You don't deserve it, I believe, but let's hear what you can say for yourself. ·
King. I have the honour to belong to the king as well as you, and perhaps should be as unwilling to see any wrong done him. I came down with him to hunt in this forest, and the chase leading us to day a great way from home, lam benighted in this wood, and have lost my way. Miller, This does not sound well; if you have been hun
pray where is your horse? King. I have tired my horse so that he lay down under me, and I was obliged to leave him
Miller If I thought I might believe this now-
Miiller. What, live at court and not lie! that's a like. ly story, indeed King. Be that as it will, I speak the truth now, I
assure you: and to convince you of it, if you will attend me to Nottingham. or give me a night's lodging in your house, here is something to pay you for your trouble, (offering money) and if that is not sufficient, I will satisfy you in the morning to your utmost desire.
Miller. Ay, ay, now I am convinced you are a cour tier; here is a little bribe for to day, and a large promise for to-morrow, both in une breath. Here take it again, John Cockle is no courtier. He can do what is right with out a bribe.
King. Thou art a very extraordinary man, I must own; and I should be glad, methinks, to know more of thee. Miller. Prithee don't thee and thou me at this rate. I
am as good a man as yourself, at least. King. Sir, I beg pardon.
Miller. Nay, I am not angry, friend; only I don't love to be too familiar with you while your honesty is suspected,
King. You are right. But what else can vince you?
Miller. You may do what you please. It is twelve miles to Nottingham, and all the way through this thick wood; but if you are resolved upon going thither to night, I will put you in the road, and direct you as well as I can; or if you will accept of such poor entertainment as a miller can give, you shall be welcome to stay here till morning, and then I will go with you myself.
King. And cannot you go with me to night?
Enter a Courtier in haste. Courtier. Is your majesty safe? We have hunted the forest over to fnd you.
Miller. How? the King! then I am undone. (Kneels) your Majesty will pardon the ill usage you have received
The King draws his sword. His majesty surely will not kill a servant for doing his duty too faithfully.
do to con
King, No, my good fellow. So far from having any thing to pardon, I am much your debtor. I cannot think but so good and honest a man would make a worthy and hono rable knight Rise up, Sir John Cockle, and receive this sword as a badge of knighthood, and a pledge of my protection; and to support your nobility, and in some m-asure to requite you for the pleasure you have done us, a thousand crowns a year shall be your revenue.
OF QUEEN MARY AND THE MARTYRS.
ARY possessed few qualities either estimable or amiable. Her person was as little engaging as her
And, amidst the complication of vices which entered into her composition, obstinacy, bigotry, violence, cru. elty, we scarcely find any virtue but sincerity; unless we add, vigor of mind, a quality which seems to have been inherent in her family.
2. During this queen's reign, persecution for religion was carried to the most terribie height. The mild counsels of a cardinal Pole, who was inclined to toleration, were overruled by Gardner and Bonner: and multitudes of all conditions, ages and sexes, were committed to the flames.
3. The persecutors began with Rogers, prebendary of St. Paul's; a man equally distinguished by his hi, piety and learning; but whose domestic situation, it was hoped, would bring him to compliance.
4. He had a wife, whom he tenderly loved, and ten children; yet did he continue firm in his principles. And such was his serenity after condemnation, that the jailors, ii is said, awaked him from a sound sleep, when the hour of his execution approached. He suffered at Smithfield.
5. Hooper, bishop of Gloucester, was condemeed at the same time wiib Rogers, but was sent to his own diocese to be punished, in order to strike the greater terror into his flock. His constancy at his death, however, had a very contrary effect.
6. It was a scene of consolation to Hooper to die in their sight, bearing testimony to that doctrine which he had
formerly taught among them. And he continued to eshore them, till his tongue, swollen by the violence of his agony, denied bin utterance.
7. Ferrar, bishop of St. David's, also suffered this terrible punishment in his own diocese; and Ridley, bishop of London, and Latimer, formerly bishop of Worcester, two prelates venerable by their years, their learning, and their piety, perished together in the same fire at Oxford, supporting each other's constancy by their mutual exhortations.
3. Latimer, when tied to the stake, called to his conpaucion, “Be of good cheer, my brother; we shall this day hindle such a flame in England, as I trust in God will never be extinguished."
9. Sanders, a respectable clergyman, was committed to the flames at Coventry. A pardon was offered hin, if he would recant: but lie rejected it with disdain, and em. braced the stake, saying, “We come, cruss of Christ! wel. come, everlasting life!"
10. Cranmer had less courage at first. Terrilled by the prospect of those tortures which awaited him, or overcome by the fond love of life and by the flattery of artful men, who ponipously represented the dignities to which his cha. racter still entitled him, if he would merit them hy a re. cantation, he agreed, in an unguarded hour, to subscribe to the doctrine of the papal supremacy, and the real presence.
11. But the court, no less perfidious than cruel, letermined that this recantation should avail him nožþing; that he should acknowledge his errors in the church, before the people, and afterwards be led to execution.
12. Whether Cranmer received secret intelligence of their design, or reperited of his weakness, or both, is uncertain; but he surprised the audience by a declaration very different from what was expected.
13 After explaining his sense of what he owed to God, and his sovereig!!, There is one miscarriage in my life, said he, of which, above all others, 1 severely repent; and that is the insincere declaration of faith, to which I had the weakness to subscribe.
14. "But I take this opportunity of atoning for my error, by a sincere and open recantation; and I am willing to seal with my blood that doctrine, which I firmly believe to be communicated from heaven.
15. As his hand, he added, had erred, by betraying his heart, it should be punished by a severe, but just doom. He accordingly stretched it out as soon as he came to the stake; and without discovering, either by his looks or moLions, the least sign of weakness, or even feeling, he held it in the famės til it was entirely consumed.
16. His thoughts, to use the words of an elegant and learned historian, appeared to be totally occupied in reflecting on his former faolts; and he called aloud several times, “This hand has offended; This wicked hand has offended!”
17. When it dropped off, he discovered a serenity in his countenance, as if satisfied with sacrificing to divine justice the instrument of his crime. And when the fire attacked his body, his soul, totally collected within itself, seemed su: perior to every external accident, and altogether inacces Bible to pain.
STORY OF LOGAN, A MINGO CHIEF.
N the spring of the year 177-1, a robbery and murder were committed on an inhabitant of the frontiers of Virginia, by two Indians, of the Shawanese tribe. The neighboring whites, according to their custom, undertook to punish this outrage in a summary way;
Colonel Cresap, a man infamous for the many murders he had comunitte: on those much injured people, collected a party, and proceeded down the river Kenhaway in quest of vengeance.
2. Unfortunately, a canoe of women and children, with one man only, was seen coming from the opposite shore, unarmed, and unsuspecting any hostile attack from the whites. Cresap and his party concealed themselves on the bank of the river; and the moment the canoe reached the shore, singled out their objects, and at one fire, killed every person in it.
3. This happened to be the family of Lagan, who had long been distinguished as the friends of the whites. This (inworthy return provoked his vengeance. He according ly signatized himself in the war which ensued.