It's no in titles or in rank;
It's no in wealth like Lon'on bank,
To purchase peace and rest;
It's no in makin' muckle mair;
It's no in books; it's no in lear
To make us truly blest:

If happiness hae not her seat

And centre in the breast,
We may be wise, or rich, or great,
But never can be blest:

Nae treasures, nor pleasures,
Could make us happy lang;
The heart ay's the part ay,
That makes us right or
wrang.

FAITH.

BURNS.

BETTER trust all, and be deceived, And weep that trust and that deceiving,

Than doubt one heart that if be

lieved

Had blessed one's life with true believing.

Oh! in this mocking world too fast The doubting fiend o'ertakes our youth;

Better be cheated to the last
Than lose the blessed hope of truth.
MRS. KEMBLE.

Ulysses. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,

Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes:

Those scraps are good deeds past: which are devoured

As fast as they are made, forgot as

soon

Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,

Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee

And still it might; and yet it may again,

If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive,

And case thy reputation in thy tent; Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,

Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves,

And drave great Mars to faction. SHAKSPEARE.

ANTONY AND THE SOOTHSAYER.

Antony. -Say to me,

Whose fortunes shall rise higher; Cæsar's, or mine?

Soothsayer. Cæsar's.

Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side:

Thy daemon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is

Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable,

Where Cæsar's is not; but near him, thy angel

Becomes a Fear, as being o'erpowered; therefore

Make space enough between you. Ant. - Speak this no more. Soothsayer. To none but thee; no more, but when to thee. If thou dost play with him at any game,

Thou art sure to lose; and of that natural luck,

He beats thee 'gainst the odds; thy lustre thickens,

When he shines by: I say again, thy spirit

Is all afraid to govern thee near him; But, he away, 'tis noble.

Ant.- Get thee gone:

Say to Ventidius, I would speak with him:

[Exit Soothsayer.] He shall to Parthia. - Be it art, or hap,

He hath spoken true: the very dice obey him;

And, in our sports, my better cunning faints

520

Are melted into air, into thin air; And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,

The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,

The solemn temples, the great globe itself,

Yea, all which it inherits, shall dissolve,

And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,

Leave not a rack behind: we are such stuff

As dreams are made of, and our little life

Is rounded with a sleep.

Tempest, act. iv. sc. 4.