« السابقةمتابعة »
Seeking the bubble reputation
25 That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness, and mere oblivion; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
.........REASON thus with life, If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art, (Servile to all the skyey influences,) That dost this habitation, where thou keep’st, 5 Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, And yet run'st toward him still : Thou' art not noble ; For all the accommodations that thou bear’st, 9 Are nursed by baseness: Thou art by no means valiant; For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm: Thy best of rest is sleep,
And that thou oft provokest; yet grossly fear’st
CLARENCE AND BRAKENBURY.
Clar. O, I have pass’d a miserable night,
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
20 O Lord I methought, what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of water in mine ears! What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit there were crept 30 (As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Brak. Had you such leisure, in the time of death,
To gaze upon these secrets of the deep ?
35 Clar. Methought, I had; and often did I strive To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth To seek the empty, vast, and wandering air; But smother'd it within my panting bulk, Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
Brak. Awaked you not with this sore agony ?
Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life; 0, then began the tempest to my soul ! I pass’d, methought, the melancholy flood, 45 With that grim ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul Was my great father-in-law, renown'd Warwick; Who cried aloud, “ What scourge for perjury 50 Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ?” And so he vanish'd: Then came wandering by A shadow like an angel, with bright hair Dabbled in blood; and he shriek'd out aloud, 54 “ Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, That stabb’d me in the field by Tewkesbury ; Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments !" With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that with the very noise 60 I trembling waked, and for a season after, Could not believe but that I was in hell; Such terrible impression made my dream.
Brak. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you; ( am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. 65
Clar. O, Brakenbury, I have done these things,
That now give evidence against my soul,
CATO'S SOLILOQUY. It must be so-Plato, thou reason’st well! Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul 5 Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 'T is the Divinity that stirs within us; 'T is Heaven itself that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man. Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought! 10 Through what variety of untried being, Through what new scenes and changes must we pass ! The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me; But shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon it. Here will I hold. If there's a power above us, 15 (And that there is, all Nature cries aloud Through all her works,) he must delight in virtue And that which he delights in, must be happy. But when! or where!—This world was made for Cæsar. I am weary of conjectures--this must end them. 20