Is there no way, good Colat, To cross the sea by land ? O the situation, The horrible situation of an island !

Colaz. (aside to APHOBUS) You, sir, are far above such frivolous thoughts You fear not death. Apho.

Not I.

Not sudden death.
Apho. No more than sudden sleeps. 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.

A valiant course;
And the right way to prevent death indeed.
Your spirit (aside to Deilus) is true Roman !- But yours (aside to APRO-

BUS) greater,
That fears not death, nor yet the manner of it.
(Aloud) Should heaven fall-

Why, then we should have larks.
Deil. I shall never eat larks again while I breathe.

Col. Or should the earth yawn like a sepulchre,
And with an open throat swallow you quick ?

Apho. 'Twould save me the expenses of a grave.
Deil. I had rather trouble my executors by th' hall.
Apho. Cannons to me are pop-guns.

Pop-guns to me
Are cannons. The report will strike me dead.

Apho. A rapier's but a bodkin.

But a bodkin!
Il's a most dangerous weapon. Since I read
Of Julius Cæsar's death, I durst not venture
Into a tailor's shop for fear of bodkins,

Apho. O that the valiant giants should again
Rebel against the gods, and besiege heaven,
So I might be their leader.

Col. (aside to APHOBUS) Had Enceladus
Been half so valiant, Jove had been his prisoner.

Apho. Why should we think there be such things as dangers ?
Scylla, Charybdis, Python, are but fables ;
Medea's bull and dragon very tales ;
Sea-monsters, serpents, all poetical figments;
Nay, hell itself, and Acheron, mere inventions ;
Or were they true, as they are false, should I be
So tim'rous as to fear these bug-bear Harpies,
Medusas, Ce tauro, Gorgons ?

O good Aphobus,

Leave conjuring, or take me into the circle.
What shall I do, good Colax ?

Sir, walk in,
There is, they say, a looking-glass, a strange one
Of admirable virtues, that will rende: you
Free from enchantments.

How ! a looking-glass ?
Dost think I can endure it? Why there lies
A man within't in ambush to entrap me.
I did but lift my hand up, and he presently
Catch'd at it.

Col. 'T was the shadow, sir, of yourself;
Trust me, a mere reflection.

Deil. (mustering up all his forces) I will trust thee
Apho What glass is that?

Col. (aside to APHOBUS) A trick to fright the idiot
Out of his wits; a glass so full of dread,
Rend'ring to the eye such horrid spectacles
As would amaze even you, sir. I do think
Your optic nerves would shrink in the beholding.
This if your eye endure, I will confess you
The prince of eagles.

Apho. Look to it, eyes: if ye refuse this right,
My nails shall damn you to eternal night.

Col. (aside to himself) Seeing no hope of gain, I pack them hence. Tis gold gives flattery all her eloquence.

· Who knows but they come leering after us

To steal away the substance ?


A very poetical apprehension, and very poetically expressed. The word leering has a fine comic mystery in it; which is always an aggravation of horror, upon the principle of extremes meeting :—malice in benevolence.

Squibs and crackers !
The mere epitomes of the gunpowder treason !
Faux in a lesser volume !

The wording of this extravagance is just as if Charles Lamb had written it. But indeed, in the pregnancy as well as coloring of his style, he was one of our old wits come back again.

I'll go get a lodging
Out of its influence.

The caricatures of Fear, after all, are not caricatures. It is the only passion that cannot be overdrawn. Multitudes of people in civilized countries have been known to do things as ridiculous as this ; have believed in the end of the world because a mad. man announced it, and gone out of town to avoid an earthquake next Wednesday !

I will not die.”—Here again there is no caricature. These ridiculous words have too often become terrible to the hearers, in the mouth of poor angry mortality. What Deilus also says after. wards of his killing himself to avoid death, has not only the authority of Ovid

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but is founded in the depths of the secret of terror.


DORYLAS has induced Jocastus, a foolish country gentleman, to believe

him to be OBERON, Prince of the Fairies ; and, in company with some other young rogues, takes advantage of his credulity to rob his orchard.

Enter DORYLAS, with a bevy of Fairies.
Dor. (to his companions) How like you my Grace? Is not my coun.

Royal and full of majesty ? Walk I not
Like the young Prince of Pygmies? Ha, my knaves!
We'll fill our pockets. Look, look yonder, elves :
Would not yon apples tempt a better conscience
Than any we have to rob an orchard? Ha!
Fairies, like nymphs with child, must have the things
They long for. You sing here a fairy catch
In that strange tongue I taught you, while myself
Do climb the trees. (He climbs.) Thus princely Oberon
Ascends his throne of state.


Nos beata Pauni proles,'
Quibus non est magna moles,
Quamvis Lunam incolamus,
Hortos sæpe frequentamus.

Furto cuncta magis bella,
Furto dulcior puella,
Furto omnia decora,
Furto poma dulciora.

Cum mortales lecto jacent,
Nobis poma nocte placent;
nla tamen sunt ingrata,
Nisi furto sint parata.

Enter JoCASTUS and his servant BROMIUS.

Joc. What divine noise, fraught with immortal harmony,
Salutes mine ears!

Why, this immortal harmony
Rather salutes your orchard. These young rascals (Aside),
These peascod shellers, do so cheat my master,
We cannot have an apple in the orchard,
But straight some fairy longs for 't. (To his master.) Well, if I
Might have my will, a whip again should jerk 'em
Into their old mortality.

Dar'st thou, screech-owl, With thy rude croaking interrupt their music, Whose melody has made the spheres to lay

(We, the Fairies, blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us.
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.

Stolen sweets are always sweeter,
Stolen kisses much completer,
Stolen looks are nice in chapels,
Stolen, stolen be your apples.

When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time for orchard robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling
Were it not for stealing, stealing.!

Their heavenly lutes aside, only to lister
To their more charming notes ?

Say what you will,
I say a cudgel now were excellent music.


Oberon, descende citus,
Ne cogaris hinc invitus.
Canes audio latrantes,
Et mortales vigilantes.

Joc. Prince Oberon! I heard his Grace's name.

Brom. O ho ! I spy his Grace. Most noble Prince,
Come down, or I'll so pelt your Grace with stones,
That I believe your Grace was ne'er so pelted,
Sinc: 'twas a Grace.

Bold mortal, hold thy hand.
Broin. Immortal thief, come down, or I will fetch you."
Methinks it should impair your Grace's honor
To steal poor mortals' apples. Now, have at you.

Dor, Jocastus, we are Oberon ; and we thought
That one so near to us as you in favor,
Would not have suffer'd this profane rude groom
Thus to impair our royalty.

Gracious Prince,
The fellow is a fool, and not yet purg'd
From his mortality.

Did we, out of love
And our entire affection, of all orchards
Choose yours, to make it happy by our dances,
Light airy measures and fantastic rings,
And you, ungrateful mortal, thus requite us.
All for one apple !

Joc. (to BROMIUS) Villain, thou hast undone me!
His Grace is much incens'd.

You know, Jocastus,
Our Grace have orchards of our own, more precious
Than mortals can have any; aud we sent you
A present of them t'other day.

'Tis right:
Your Grace's humble servant must acknowledge it.

[Oberon, descend, we pray thee,
Lest a swift stick over-lay thee.
Dogs are on the watch, and barking,
Eyes of mortals anti-larking. I


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