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our house. The old gentleman must be buried, you know, and that requires some of the ready. And my young master, if he were in his best wits, knows no more than a broomstick, where to find a penny of money. For you know, the old one, rest his soul, kept all that same as snug as if he had thought the daylight would melt it. Now, Sir, you would do us a great kindness if you will be so good as to help us with a score or two of pieces, till we can turn ourselves round a little.
Ans. Hum-[Aside.] He will have a good Avarice. estate. And will not grudge to pay handsome Refolution. interest. [To Masc.] I will come to him immediately, and bring the money with me; and Gives try to comfort him a little. [He goes. the money. Is deceived by an artificial corps laid out on the bed. Returns full of anxiety.] Lawkaday! what a sad thing this is. He was but sixty-eight, or sixty-nine; about the same age with myself. It frightens me to think of it. Suppose I should die suddenly too. I believe I had better think of repenting, and making my peace. It is true, he was a little asthmatic, and, thank God, no body has better lungs-hem-hem-hem
than myself.Well, but I must go, and send neighbour Cloak'um, the undertaker, as I promised. [Going, he meets the supposed dead man, who had been stopped on his way to his country-house, by persons, who informed him of the falsehood of the reports which had occasioned his setting out.] Ah! mercy on my soul! What is that! My old friend's ghost! They say, none but wicked folks walk. I wish I were at the bottom of a coal-pit! Law! How pale, and how long his face is grown since his death. He never was handsome. And death has improvIntreating. ed him very much the wrong way.-Pray, do not come near me. I wished you very well when But I could never abide a dead you was alive. Trembling. man cheek by jowl with me. Rest your soul?
Asking a favour.
Rest your soul, I pray! Vanish, vanish, in the Trembling.
Pandolph. What the plague is the matter, old friend! Are you gone out of your wits. I came to ask your advice; but
Ans. Tell me, then, pray, without coming a Intreating. step nearer, what you would have me do for the repose of your soul. Ah, eh, eh, eh, mercy on us! Trembling. no nearer pray! If it be only to take your leave of me, that you are come back, I could have excused you the ceremony with all my heart. [Pandolph comes nearer, to convince Anselm, that he is not dead. He draws back, as the other advances.] Or if you-mercy on us—no near- Intreating. er, prayor if you have wronged any body, as you always loved money a little, I give the word of a frightened christian, I will pray as long as you please, for the deliverance and repose of your departed soul. My good, worthy, Perfuading. noble friend, do, pray disappear, as ever you would wish your old friend Anselm, to come to his senses again.
Pand. [laughing.] If I were not most confoundedly out of humour, I could be diverted to a pitch. But prithee now, old friend, what is in Remonftra. the wind, that you will have me to be dead? This is some contrivance of that rogue Masca- Sufpicion. rille, I guess by what I have just found out of his tricks.
Ans. Ah, you are dead, too sure. Did not I see your corpse laid out upon your own bed,
Ans. You are clothed with a body of air, which resembles your own person, when you was aliveonly-you'll excuse me a good deal plainer. But, pray, now, don't assume a figure more frightful. I am within a hair's breadth of
Pand. What the deuce! I am dead, and Remonftra. know nothing of it! But, don't you see that I am not dead?
losing my senses already; and if you should turn yourself into a giant, with saucer-eyes, or a black horse without a head, or any of the ugly shapesI ask pardon-you apparitions sometimes put on, I am sure I should go clean o' one side at the Earneft in least glimpse of you. Pray, then, in the name of the blessed virgin, and all the saints, male and female, be so good as to vanish quietly, and leave your poor frightened old friend wit enough to keep him out of a mad-house.
Pand. This is undoubtedly that rogue Mascarille's manufacture. He has, for some gracious purpose, contrived to send me to the country on a fool's errand, and I suppose, in my absence, he has, to answer some other pious end, persuaded Encourage. you that I am dead. Come, give me thy hand, and thou wilt be convinced I am not dead more than thyself.
Ans. [drawing back.] What was it I saw laid out upon the bed, then?
Pand. How should I know? It was not I, however. Reluctance. Ans. If I were sure you are not dead, I should not be afraid to touch you: but the hand of a Shuddering dead man must be so co-o-old ! Encourage. Pand. Prithee now give over.
I tell you, it is nothing but Mascarille's invention. [He seizes Anselm's hand, who screams out.]
Ans. Ah! St. Anthony preserve me!-AhReturning aheheh Why-why-after all, your hand courage. is not so co-0-0-old, neither. Of the two, it is rather warmer than my own. Can it be, though, that you are not dead? Pand. Not I.
Ans. I begin to question it a little myself. But still my mind misgives me plaguily about the corpse I saw laid out upon your bed. If I could but find out what that was
Pand. Pshaw, prithee, what signifies it what it was? As long as you see plainly I am not dead.
Ans. Why yes, as you say, that is the point. Affenting. But yet the corpse upon the bed haunts me. [pauses] I'll be hang'd if it be not as you say. Vexation. Mascarille is a rogue. But, if you be not dead, I am in two sweet scrapes. One is, the danger of being dubbed Mascarille's fool. The other of losing fifty pieces, I furnished him for your inter
Pand. O, you have lent him money, have Discovery. you? Then the secret is out.
Ans. Yes; but you know, it was upon the credit of your estate, and for your own personal benefit. For, if you had been dead, you must have been buried, you know. And Mascarille told me, your son could come at no ready cash, you know. So that I hope you will see me paid, Requesting you know.
Pand. I'll be hang'd if I do. I have enough Refufing. to pay on that score otherwise.
Ans. I'll pluck off every single grey hair that Vexation. is upon my old foolish head.-What! to have no more wit at this time of life!-I expect nothing else than that they should make a farce in praise of my wisdom, and act me, till the town be sick of me. [Exeunt different ways.]
The speech of GALGACUS the general of the Caledonii, (1) in which he exhorts the army he had assembled, in order to expel the Romans, to fight valiantly against their foes under JUL. AGRICOLA.
Corn. Tacit. VIT. AGRIC.
COUNTRYMEN, and FELLOW-SOLDIERS !
WHEN I consider the cause, for which we
have drawn our swords, and the necessity of striking an effectual blow, before we sheath them.
(1) The Caledonii, were, according to Ptolemy, the inhabitants of the interior parts of Scotland.
again, I feel joyful hopes arising in my mind, that this day an opening shall be made for the restoration of British liberty, and for shaking off Vexation. the infamous yoke of Roman slavery. Caledonia is yet free. The all-grasping power of Rome has not yet been able to seize our liberty. But it is only to be preserved by valour. By flight Warning. it cannot for the sea confines us; and that the more effectually, as being possessed by the fleets of the enemy. As it is by arms, that the brave acquire immortal fame, so it is by arms that the sordid must defend their lives and properties, or Encourage, lose them. You are the very men, my friends, who have hitherto set bounds to the unmeasurable ambition of the Romans. In consequence of your inhabiting the more inaccessible parts of the island, to which the shores of those countries on the continent, which are enslaved by the Romans, are invisible, you have hitherto been free from the common disgrace, and the common sufferings. You lie almost out of the reach of fame Warning. itself. But you must not expect to enjoy this untroubled security any longer, unless you bestir yourselves so effectually, as to put it out of the power of the enemy to search out your retreats, and disturb your repose. If you do not, curiosity alone will set them a prying, and they will conclude that there is somewhat worth the labour of conquering, in the interior parts of the island, merely because they have never seen them. What is little known, is often coveted, because so little known. And you are not to expect, that you should escape the ravage of the general plunderers of mankind, by any sentiment of moderation Aceufing. in them. When the countries, which are more accessible, come to be subdued, they will then force their way into those, which are harder to come at. And if they should conquer the dry land, over the whole world, they will then think of carrying their arms beyond the ocean, to see