Besides, sleep makes us all alike, great and small, rich and poor. Call to mind, too, who first put this whim of governing into my head-who was it but yourself? for, alack, I know no more about governing islands than a bustard; and, if you fancy that, in case I should be a governor, the devil will have me-in God's name, let me rather go to Heaven plain Sancho, than a governor to Hell.". 10. "Before God, Sancho," quoth Don Quixote, "for those .ast words of thine, I think that thou deservest to be governor of a thousand islands! Thou hast a good disposition, without which knowledge is of no value. Pray to God, and endeavor not to err in thy intention; I mean, let it ever be thy unshaken purpose and design to do right in whatever business occurs; for Heaven constantly favors a good intention." EXERCISE C. CHAPMAN and SHIRLEY were contemporary English dramatists in the early part of the seventeenth century. The former was much the older man, and distinguished as being the earliest English translator of Homer. The subject of the following extract, which is given by Charles Lamb, as their joint production, is explained in the note below. PHILIP CHABOT (Chabo), Admiral of France, being accused of treason, a criminal process is instituted against him, and his faithful servant Allegre is put on the rack to make him discover. His innocence is at length established by the confession of his enemies; but the disgrace of having been suspected for a traitor by his Royal Master, sinks s deep into his heart, that he falls into a mortal sickness. THE FATAL CHARGE. CHAPMAN AND SHIRLEY. ADMIRAL, and ALLEGRE, supported between two persons. Adm. Welcome, my injured servant; what a misery Have they made on thee! Alleg. Though some change appear Upon my body whose severe affliction Hath brought it thus to be sustained by others, Adm. Alas, poor man! Were all my joys essential, and so mighty, More grief, than all my imagination Could let before into me. Didst not curse me Alleg. Good my lord, let not That thought of what I suffered dwell upon Lost to his hopes and honor, not the man Upon whose life the fury of injustice, Armed with fierce lightning and the power of thunder, Can make no breach. I was not racked till now. There's more death in that falling eye, than all Rage ever yet brought forth. What accident, sir, can blast,- Can be so black and fatal, to distract The calm, the triumph, that should sit upon Your noble brow: misfortune could have no Time to conspire with fate, since you were rescued Adm. Allegre, thou dost bear thy wounds upon thee In wide and spacious characters; but, in The volume of my sadness, thou dost want An eye to read. An open force hath torn Thy manly sinews, which some time may cure. The flatteries of court, of fame or honors. Or make her bosom kind, to growth and bearing: Dry up her sap, and shoot a fever through The bark and rind, till she becomes a burden Suspect your health, indeed. Adm. No, no, thou shalt not Be troubled: I but stirred thee with a moral That's empty, contains nothing. I am well: See, I can walk; poor man, thou hast not strength yet. (The father of the Admiral makes known the condition his son is in to the King.) Fath. To secure his, I would you had. King. Ha! who durst oppose him? Fath. One that hath power enough, hath practiced on him, And made his great heart stoop. King. I will revenge it With crushing, crushing that rebellious power To nothing. Name him! Fath. He was his friend. King. What mischief hath engendered New storms? Fath. 'Tis the old tempest. King. Did not we Appease all horrors that looked wild upon him? Fath. You dressed his wounds, I must confess, but made No cure; they bleed afresh: pardon me, sir; Although your conscience have closed too soon, King. Alas! poor Chabot! Doth that afflict him? Fath. So much, though he strive With most resolved and adamantine nerves, Forged for example, to bear all; so killing The arrows that you shot, were (still, your pardon !) King. If this Be all, I'll cure him. Kings retain More balsam in their souls, than hurt in anger. Fath. Far short, sir; with one breath they uncreate; Commend us to the admiral, and say The king will visit him, and bring him health. Fath. I will not doubt that blessing, and shall move Nimbly with this command. (The King visits the Admiral.) KING. ADMIRAL. His Wife and Father. King. No ceremonial knees: Give me thy heart, my dear, my honest Chabot; And, in my heart, the world shall read thee living; When I am lost in all my other dust. Adm. You too much honor your poor servant, sir; My heart despairs so rich a monument. King. I would not hear a sound Of anything that trenched upon death. He speaks the funeral of my crown, that prophesies Adm. I have found A glorious harvest in your favor, sir; |