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His own invented torments.

But perhaps, The way seems difficult and steep to scale, With upright wing, against a higher foe. Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench Of that forgetful iake benumb not still, That in our proper motion we ascend Up to our native seat; descent and fall To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, When the fierce foe lung on our broken rear Insulting, and pursued us through the deep, With what compulsion and laborious flight, We sunk thus low? Th’ascent is easy then. Th' event is fear'd, Should we again provoke Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find, To our destruction; if there be in hell, Fear to be worse destroy'd : What can be worse Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemn'd In this abhorred deep to utter woe; Where pain of unextinguishable fire, Must exercise us without hope of end, The vassals of his anger, when the scourge Inexorable, and the tort'ring hour Calls us to penance ? More destroy'd than thus We should be quite abolish'd and expire. What fear we then ? What doubt we to incense His utmost ire? Which to the height enrag'd, Will either quite consume us, and reduce To nothing this essential, (happier far, Than miserable, to have eternal being) Or if our substance be indeed divine, And cannot cease to be, we are at worst On this side nothing; and by proof we feel Our power sufficient to disturb this heaven, And with perpetual inroads to alarm, Though inaccessible, bis fatal throne; Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.

XV.-Speech of Belial, advising Pence.—IB.

I SHOULD be much for open war, O peers,
As not behind in hate, if what was urg'd
Main reason to persuade immediate war,
Did not dissuade the most, and seem to cast

Ominous conjecture on the whole success;
When he who most excels in feats of arms,
In what he counsels, and in what excels,
Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair
And utter dissolution, as the scope
Of all his aim, after some dire revenge.
First, what revenge? The towers of heaven are fill'd
With armed watch, that render all access
Impregnable ; oft on the bordering deep
Incamp their legions; or, with obscure wing,
Scout far and wide, into the realm of night,
Scorning surprise. Or could we break our way
By force, and at our heels all hell should rise
With blackest insurrection, to confound
Heaven s purest light--yet our great enemy,
All incorruptible, would on his throne,
Sit unpolluted ; and the etherial inould,
Incapable of stain, would soon expel
Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire,
Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope
Is flat despair. We must exasperate
Th' almighty victor to spend all his rage,
And that must end us; that must be our cure,
To be no more. Sad fate! For who would lose,
Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
Those thoughts that wander through eternity,
To perish rather, swallow'd up and lost
In the wide womb of uncreated night,
Devoid of sense and motion ? And who knows,
Let this be good, whether our angry foe
Can give it, or will ever ? How he can,
Is doubtful; that he never will is sure.
Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire,
Belike through impotence, or unaware,
To give his enemies their wish, and end
Them in his anger, whom his anger saves
To punish endless ? Wherefore cease we then ?
Say they who counsel war, we are decreed,
Reserv'd and destin'd to eternal woe;
Whatever doing, what can suffer more,
What can we suffer worse? Is this then worst,
Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms?

What when we fled amain, pursued and struck
With heaven's afflicting thander, and besought
The deep to shelter us? This hell then seemi'd
A refuge from those wounds; or when we lay
Chain'd on the burning lake? That sure was worse.
What if the breath that kindled those grim fires,
Awak'd should blow them into sevenfold rage,
And plunge us in the flames ? or from above
Should intermitted vengeance arm again
His red right hand to plague us ? What if all
Her stores were open'd and this firmament
Of hell should spout her cataracts of fire.
Impendent horrours, threat'ning hideous fall
One day upon our heads; while we, perhaps
Designing or exhorting glorious war,
Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurl'd
Each on his rock transfix'd, the sport and prey
Of wrecking whirlwinds, or forever sunk
Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains;
There to converse with everlasting groans,
Unrespited, unpitied, unrepriev'd,
Ages of hopeless end ! This would be worse.
War, therefore, open or conceal'd, alike
My voice dissuades.

SECTION V.

DRAMATIC PIECES.

1. DIALOGUES.

1.-Belcour and Stockwell.-WEST INDIAN.

Stockw. MR. BELCOUR, I am rejoiced to see you; you are welcome to England.

Bel. I thank you heartily, good Mr. Stockwell. You and I have long conversed at a distance; now we are inet; and the pleasure this meeting gives me, amply compensates for the perils I have run through in accomplishing it.

Stock. What perils, Mr. Belcour? I could not have thought you would have met with a bad passage at this time oʻyear.

Bel. Nor did we. Courier like, we came posting to your shores, upon the pinions of the swiftest gales that ever blew. It is upon English ground all my difficulties have arisen ; it is the passage froin the river side I complain of.

Stock. ^ Indeed! What obstructions can you have met between this and the river side ?

Bel. Innumerable! Your town's as full of defiles as the island of Corsica; and I believe they are as obstinately defended. So much hurry, bustle and confusion on your quays ; so many sugar casks, porter butts and common council njen in your streets; that unless a man marched with artillery in his front, it is more than the labour of an Hercules can effect, to make any tolerable way through

Stock, I am sorry you have been so incommoded.

Bel. Why, truly it was all my own fault. Accustomed to a land of slaves, and out of patience with the whole tribe of customhouse extortioners, boatmen, tịdewaiters and water bailiffs, that beset me on all sides, worse than a swarm of moschettoes, I proceeded a little too roughly to brush them away with my ratan. The sturdy rogues iook

your town.

this in dudgeon; and beginning to rebel, the mob chose different sides, and a furious scuffle ensued ; in the course of which, my person and apparel suffeted so much, that I was obliged to step into the first tavern to refit, before I could make my approaches in any decent trim.

Stock. Well, Mr. Belcour, it is a rough sample you have bad of my countrymen's spirit; but I trust you will not think the worse of them for it.

Bel. Not at all, not at all : I like them the better. Were I only a visitor, I night perhaps wish them a little more tractable; but, as a fellow subject, and a sharer in their freedom, I applaud their spirit-though I feel the effects of it in every bone in my skin.Well, Mr. Stockwell, for the first time in my life, here am I in England; at the fountain head of pleasure; in the land of beauty, of arts and elegancies. My happy stars have given me a good estate, and the conspiring winds have blown' me hither to spend it.

Stock. To use it, not to waste it, I should hope; to treat it, Mr. Belcour, not as a vassal over whom you have a wanton despotic power, but as a subject whom you are bound to govern with a temperate and restrained authority.

Bel. True, Sir, most truly said ; mine's a commission, not a right; I ain the offspring of distress, and every child of sorrow is my brother. While I have hands to hold, therefore, I will hold them open to mankind.

But Sir, my passions are my masters; they take me where they will; and oftentimes they leave to reason and virtue, nothing but my wishes and my sighs.

Stock. Come, come, the man who can accuse, corrects himself. Bel. Ah! That is an office I am weary of.

I wish a friend would take it up; I would to heaven you had leisure for the employ. But did you drive a trade to the four corners of the world, you would not find the task so. toilsome as to keep me from faults.

Stock. Well, I am not discouraged. This candour tells me I should not have the fault of selfconceit to combat; that, at least, is not amongst the number.

Beli No; if I knew that man on earth who thought

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