Thou passest in the world for worldly-wise: More precious than the ordering of a shipwreck. Van den Bosch. Tush, tush, Van Artevelde, thou talk'st and talk'st, And honest burghers think it wondrous fine. But thou mightst easilier with that tongue of thine Persuade yon smoke to fly i' the face o' the wind, I say yon herald shall not enter here. Artevelde. I know, sir, no man better, where my talk Is serviceable singly, where it needs To be by acts enforced. I say, beware, And brave not mine authority too far. Van den Bosch. Hast thou authority to take my life? To bargain for our blood? Artevelde. Thy life again! Why, what a very slave of life art thou! Look round about on this once populous town; But hides some spectral form of misery, Some peevish, pining child and moaning mother, I too would live-I have a love for life- With one hour's lengthening out of woes like these, Van den Bosch. Beshrew me ; Thou shalt not have the start of me in this. [Exit. And fraud in kings was held accurst, And falsehood sin was reckoned, And mighty chargers bore my First, And fat monks wore my Second! Oh, then I carried sword and shield, And casque with flaunting feather, And earned my spurs in battle field, In winter and rough weather; And polished many a sonnet up To ladies' eyes and tresses, But dim is now my grandeur's gleam ; II. He talked of daggers and of darts, Of weeping eyes and wounded hearts, He said, though Love was kin to Grief, But still the Lady shook her head, And swore by yea and nay, And all that he could say. He said, my First, whose silent car Through the unfathomed sky, Across her young lips past, And swore by yea and nay, And then he set a cypress wreath And drew his rapier from its sheath, And said, his life-blood's purple flow III. Uncouth was I of face and form, Not a warrior went to the battle plain, That did not look in doubt and pain, My rude adorers knelt; And ever the shriek rang loud within, My priests are rotting in their grave, No crown upon my brow; My name and my memory pass away;And yet this bright and glorious day Is called by mortals mine! IV. When Ralph by holy hands was tied For life to blooming Cis, Sir Thrifty too drove home his bride, A fashionable Miss. That day, my First, with jovial sound And drunk was all the country round Where it was day before?— Or why should women have a tongue, "Till both their lords my Second try, To end connubial strife,- V. I graced Don Pedro's revelry, He vowed a vow, that noble knight, His only couch the stable, A banquet would be reckoned, Through deserts where to quench their Men vainly turn my Second ;- VI. Row on, row on!-The First may light Row on, row on!-The Second is high Row on, row on!-When the Whole is The song will be hushed, and the rapture dead; . And I must go in my grief again To the toils of day, and the haunts of men, To ride through mountains where my And memory's dream of the things that First were. [DR. JOHN SCOTT, the Author of 'The Christian Life,' from which the following is an extract, was born in Wiltshire, in 1638, and died in 1694. He was a Canon of Windsor.] The goods and evils which befall us here are, not so truly to be estimated by themselves as by their effects and consequents. For the Divine Providence, which runs through all things, hath disposed and connected them into such a series and order, that there is no single event or accident (but what is purely miraculous) but depends upon the whole system, and hath innumerable causes antecedent to it. and innumerable consequents attending it; and what the consequents will be, whether good or bad, singly and apart by itself, yet in conjunction with all those consequents that will most certainly attend it, the best event, for aught we know, may prove most mischievous, and the worst most beneficial to us. So that for us boldly to pronounce concerning the good or evil of events, before we see the train of consequents that follow them, is very rash and inconsiderate. As, for instance, you see a good man oppressed with sorrows and afflictions, and a bad man crowned with pleasures and prosperities; and, considering these things apart by themselves, you conclude that the one fares very ill, and the other very well; but did you at the same time see the consequents of the one's adversity and the other's prosperity, it is probable you would conclude the quite contrary, viz., that the good man's adversity was a blessing, and the bad man's prosperity a curse. For I dare boldly affirm that good men generally reap more substantial benefit from their afflictions than bad men do from their prosperities. The one smarts, indeed, at present, but what follows? Perhaps his mind is cured by it of some disease that is ten times worse to him than his outward affliction; of avarice and impatience, of envy or discontent, of pride or vanity of spirit; his riches are lessened, but his virtues are improved by it; his body is impaired, but his mind is grown sound and hale by it, and what he hath lost in health, or wealth, or pleasure, or honour, he hath gained with vast advantage in wisdom and goodness, in tranquillity of mind and self-enjoyment, and methinks no man who believes he hath a soul should grudge to suffer any tolerable affliction for bettering of his mind, his will, and his conscience. On the other hand, the bad man triumphs and rejoices at the present; but what follows? His prosperity either shrivels him into miserableness, or melts him into luxury; the former of which impoverishes, and the latter diseases him; for, if the former be the effect of his prosperity, it increases his needs, because before he needed only what he had not, but now he needs both what he hath not and what he hath, his covetous desires treating him as the falconer doth his hawk-luring him off from what he hath seized, to fly at new game, and never permitting him to prey upon his own quarry; and if the latter be the effect of his prosperity, that is, if it melts him into luxury, it thereby wastes his health to be sure, and commonly his estate too, and so whereas it found him poor and well, it leaves him poor and diseased, and only took him up from the plough, and sets him down at the hospital. In general, while he is possessed of it, it only bloats and swells him, makes him proud and insolent, griping and oppressive; pampers and enrages his lust, stretches out his desires into insatiable feeling, sticks his mind full of cares, and his conscience of guiles, and by all those woeful effects it inflames his reckoning with God, and treasures up wrath for him against the day of wrath; so that, comparing the consequences of the good man's adversity with those of the bad man's prosperity, it is evident that the former fares well even in his worst condition, and the latter ill, in his best. "It is well for me," saith David, "that I was afflicted, for before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I have kept thy commandments." But, on the contrary, when the wicked spring as the grass, saith the same author, and when all the workers of iniquity do flourish, then is it that they shall be destroyed for ever! If, then, in the consequents of things, good men are blessed in their afflictions, and bad men plagued in their prosperities, as it is apparent they generally are, these unequal distributions are so far from being an argument against Providence, that they are a glorious instance of it. For wherein could the divine Providence better express its justice and wisdom together, than by benefiting the good, and punishing the bad, by such cross and unprobable methods ?" [WILLIAM STEPHANIDES, or Fitz Stephen, a monk of Canterbury, was born in London; lived in the reigns of King Stephen, Henry the Second, and Richard the First; and died in 1191. He wrote a description of his native city in Latin. Stow, the antiquary, printed this very curious tract, with a translation, in his 'Survey of London;' and it has since been reprinted several times. The translation of this passage which we give is more modern than that of Stow; and we take it from a very elegant and accurate edition of the Survey, edited by Mr. Thoms, the learned and accomplished secretary of the Camden Society. There are few things of antiquarian value more curious than this picture of London and its manners, written more than six centuries and a half ago.] Of the manner in which the Affairs of the City are disposed.-The artizans of the several crafts, the vendors of the various commodities, and the labourers of every kind, have each their separate station, which they take every morning. There is also in London, on the bank of the river, amongst the wine shops which are kept in ships and cellars, a public eating-house; there every day, according to the season, may be found viands of all kinds, roast, fried, and boiled, fish, large and small, coarser meat for the poor, and more delicate for the rich, such as venison, fowls, and small birds. If friends, wearied with their journey, should unexpectedly come to a citizen's house, and, being hungry, should not like to wait till fresh meat be bought and cooked: "The canisters with bread are heap'd on high; The attendants water for their hands supply:"-DRYDEN'S Virgil. meanwhile some run to the river side, and there every thing that they could wish for is instantly procured. However great the number of soldiers or strangers that enters or leaves the city at any hour of the day or night, they may turn in there if they please, and refresh themselves according to their inclination; so that the former have no occasion to fast too long, or the latter to leave the city without dining. Those who wish to indulge themselves would not desire a sturgeon, or the bird of Africa, or the godwit of Tonia, when the delicacies that are to be found there are set before them. This indeed is the public cookery, and is very convenient to the city, and a distinguishing mark of civilization. Hence we read in Plato's Gorgias, "Juxta medicinam esse coquorum officium, simulantium et adulationem quartæ particulæ civilitatis." There is, without one of the gates, immediately in the suburb, a certain smooth field in name and in reality. There every Friday, unless it be one of the more solemn festivals, is a noted show of well-bred horses exposed for sale. The earls, barons, and knights, who are at the time resident in the city, as well as most of the citizens, flock thither either to look or to buy. It is pleasant to see the nags, with their sleek and shining coats, smoothly ambling along, raising and setting down alternately, as it were, their feet on either side: in one part are horses better adapted to esquires; these, whose pace is rougher but yet expeditious, lift up and set down, as it were, the two opposite fore and hind feet together in another the young blood colts, not yet accustomed to the bridle, 4TH QUARTER. : L |