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Hunks. His consent! what need I care about his consent? so long as I've his fathers, that is sufficient for my purpose. Blithe. Then you intend to force the young couple to marry, if they are unwilling?

Hunks. Those two thousand pounds will soon give them a disposition, I'll warrant you.

Blithe. Your schemes, I confess, are artfully concerted; but I must tell you, for your mortification, that the young gentleman is already married.

Hunks. What do you say! already married! it can't be ! I don't believe a syllable on't!

Blithe. Every syllable is true, whether you believe it or not. I received a letter this day from his father: if you won't believe me, you may read it. (Gives him the letter.) There's the account in the postscript. (Points to it.)

Hunks reads-(I had almost forgot to tell you, that last Thursday my son was married to Miss Clary Brentford, and that all parties are very happy in the connection.) Confusion! (throws down the letter.) What does this mean! married to Clary Brentford! This is exactly one of cousin Tom's villainous tricks. He promised me that his son should marry my daughter, upon condition that I would give her those two farms; but I can't imagine from what stupid motives he has altered his mind.

Blithe. Disappointment is the common lot of all men; even our surest expectations are subject to misfortune.

Hunks. Disappointment! this comes from a quarter from which I least expected one. But there's the deeds, I'll take care to secure them again; 'tis a good hit that I did not give them to the young rogue beforehand.

Blithe. That was well thought of; you keep a good look out, I see, though you cannot avoid some disappointments. I see nothing in the way now, to hinder my son's proceeding; you will easily grant your consent, now you are cut off from your former expectation.

Hunks. I can't see into this crooked affair-I'm heartily vexed at it. What could induce that old villain to deceive me in this manner? I fear this was some scheme of my daughter's to prevent the effect of my design. If this is her plan, if she sets so light by two thousand pounds, she shall soon know what it is to want it, I'll promise her.

Blithe. If you had bestowed your gift, without crossing her inclinations, she would have accepted it very thankfully, Hunks. O, I don't doubt it in the least; that would have been a pretty story indeed! but since she insists upon gra, tifying a foolish fancy, she may follow her own inclination and take the consequence of it; I'll keep the favours I meant to bestow on her, for those that know how to prize them, and that merit them by a becoming gratitude.

Blithe. But you won't reject her destitute of a patrimony and a father's blessing.

Hunks. Not one farthing shall she ever receive from my hand. Your son may take her, but her person is barely all that I'll give him; he has seduced her to disobey her father, and he shall feel the effects of it.

Blithe. You're somewhat ruffled, I perceive, but I hope you'll recall these rash resolutions in your cooler moments. Hunks. No, never, I give you my word, and that's as fixed as the laws of the Medes and Persians.

Blithe. But look ye sir, here's another circumstance to be attended to; my son has the deeds already in his own hands. Hunks. Deeds! what deeds! those I gave to my brother? Blithe. Yes, the very same.

Hunks. What a composition of villainy and witchcraft is here! What, my deeds given up to your son?

Blithe. Yes; your brother thought that my son had an undoubted title to them now, since his cousin was married,. and so he gave them up the next day.

Hunks. This is intolerable? I could tear the scalp from my old brainless skull? why had I not more wit than to trust them with him? I'm cheated every way! I can't trust a farthing with the best friend I have upon earth.

Blithe. That is very true, 'tis no wonder you can't trust your best friends. The truth of the case is, you have no friend, nor can you expect any so long as you make an idol of yourself, and feast your sordid avaricious appetite upon the misfortunes of mankind. You take every possible advantage by the present calamities, to gratify your own selfish disposi tion, So long as this is the case, depend upon it, you will be an object of universal detestation. There is no one on earth that would not rejoice to see how you're bro't in. Your daughter now has got a good inheritance, and an agreeable partner, which you were in duty bound to grant her; but, instead of

that, you were then doing your utmost to deprive her of every enjoyment in life. (Hunks puts his hand to his breast.) I don't wonder your conscience smites you for your villainy. Don't you see how justly you have been cheated into your duty?

Hunks. I'll go this moment to an attorney, and get a warrant; I'll put the villain in jail before an hour is at an end. Oh, my deeds! my farms! what shall I do for my farms.

Blithe. Give yourself no farther trouble about them, there's no evidence in the case; you must be sensible therefore, an action can't lie. I would advise you to rest contented, and learn from disappointments, not to place such an exorbitant value upon wealth. In the mean time I should be very glad of your company at the wedding. My son and his wife would be very happy to see you.

Hunks. The dragon fly away with you, and your son, and your son's wife. O my farms! what shall I do for my farms!

LXVI. Contempt of the common OBJECTS of PURSUIT. ONOUR and shame from no condition rise;

H Act well your part, there all the honour lies.

Fortune in men has some small difference made;
One flaunts in rags; one flutters in brocade;
The cobler apron'd, and the parson gown'd;
The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd.
"What differ more, (you cry) than crown and cowl?"
I'll tell you, friend! A wise man and a fool.
You'll find if once the wise man acts the monk,
Or, cobler-like, the parson will be drunk;
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;
The rest is all but leather or prunella.

Go! if your ancient, but ignoble blood,

Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood;
Go! and pretend your family is young;

Nor own your fathers have been fools so long.
What can ennoble sots, or slaves or cowards?

Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.

Look next on greatness. Say where greatness lies?
Where, but among the heroes and the wise.
Heroes are all the same, it is agreed,

From Macedonia's madman to the Swede.

The whole strange purpose of their lives, to find,
Or make-an enemy of all mankind.

Not one looks backward, onward still he goes;
Yet ne'er looks forward farther than his nose.
No less alike the politic and wise;

All sly, slow things, with circumspective eyes:
Men in their loose unguarded hours they take;
Not that themselves are wise; but others weak.
But grant that those can conquer; these can cheat;
"Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great.
Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave,
Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.
Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
Or, failing, smiles in exile, or in chains :
Like good Aurelius let him reign; or bleed
Like Socrates; that man is great indeed!

What's fame? a fanci'd life in other's breath;
A thing beyond us, even before our death.

Just what you hear 's your own; and what's unknown,
The same (my lord!) if Tully's or your own.
All that we feel of it, begins and ends

In the small circle of our foes and friends;
To all besides as much an empty shade,
As Eugene living, as a Cæsar dead:

Alike, or when, or where they shone or shine,
Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine.

A wit's a feather, and a chief's a rod;

An honest man's the noblest work of God.
Fame, but from death a villain's name can save,
As justice tears his body from the grave;
When what t' oblivion better were consign'd
Is hung on high to poison half mankind.
All fame is foreign, but of true desert;

Plays round the head; but comes not to the heart,
One self approving hour whole years outweighs
Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas ;
And more true joy, Marcellus exil'd feels,
Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels.

In parts superior what advantage lies?
Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise?
'Tis but to know how little can be known;
To see all other's faults, and feel our own:

Condemn'd in business or in arts to drudge,
Without a second and without a judge..
Truths would you teach to save a sinking land,
All fear, none aid you; and few understand.
Painful pre-eminence! yourself to view
Above life's weakness, and its comforts too.
Bring then these blessings to a strict account;
Make fair deductions; see to what they 'mount;
How much of other each is sure to cost;
How each for other oft is wholly lost;

How inconsistent greater goods with these;
How sometimes life is risk'd, and always ease;
Think; and if still such things thy envy call,
Say, would'st thou be the man to whom they fall?
To sigh for ribbands if thou art so silly,
Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy.
Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life?
Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus' wife.
If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shin'd,
The wisest, brightest-meanest of mankind;
Or, ravished with the whistling of a name,
See Cromwell damn'd to everlasting fame:
If all united thy ambition call,

From ancient story learn to scorn them all.

LXVII. Various CHARACTERS.

IS from high life, high characters are drawn;
A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn;

A judge is just; a chancellor juster still;

A gownman learn'd; a Bishop-what you will;
Wise if a minister; but if a king,

More wise, more just, more learn'd, more every thing. 'Tis education forms the common mind;

Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclin'd.
Boastful and rough, your first son is a squire ;
The next a tradesman meek and much a liar :
Tom struts a soldier, open, bold and brave;
Will sneaks a scriv'ner, an exceeding knave:
Is he a Churchman; then he's fond of pow'r
A Quaker? sly: a Presbyterian? sour:
A smart free thinker? all things in an hour.

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