Impostors! who vaunt that to others they'll show A path, which themselves neither travel nor know.

Since they promise us wealth if we pay for their pains,

Let them take from that wealth, and bestow what remains.

VI. ARE THERE GODS?

YES! there are gods; but they no thought bestow On human deeds,-on mortal bliss or woe,Else would such ills our wretched race assail? Would the Good suffer?—would the Bad prevail?

VII. THE IDLE SOLDIER.

WHO know not leisure to employ,

Toil more than those whom toils employ;
For they, who toil with purpos'd mind,
In all their labours pleasure find;
But they, whose time no labours fill,
Have in their minds nor wish nor will.
-So 'tis with us, call'd far from home,
Nor yet to fields of battle come,
We hither march, we thither sail,
Our minds as veering as the gale.

VIII. THE CALM OF EVENING.

THE heaven's vast world stood silent; Neptune

gave

A hushful pause to ocean's roughening wave; The sun curb'd his swift steeds; th' eternal floods Stood still; and not a breath was on the woods.

IX. THE SAME SUBJECT.

SWEET smil'd the Olympian Father from above, And the hush'd storms return'd his smile of love!

X. ON THE REVIVAL OF ILIUM IN ROME.

SACK'D, but not captive,-burn'd, but not consum'd,

Nor yet, on Dardan plains, to perish doom'd.

XI. THE CHARACTER OF AN ADVISER AND FRIEND.

[Supposed by many to be a portrait of the poet himself.]
His friend he call'd,-who at his table far'd,
And all his counsels and his converse shar'd;
With whom he oft consum'd the day's decline
In talk of petty schemes or great design,—
To him, with ease and freedom uncontroll'd,
His jests and thoughts, or good or ill, were
told;

Whate'er concern'd his fortunes was disclos'd,
And safely in that faithful breast repos'd.
This chosen friend possess'd a stedfast mind,
Where no base purpose could its harbour find;
Mild, courteous, learn'd, with knowledge blest
and sense,

A soul serene, contentment, eloquence;
Fluent in words or sparing, well he knew
All things to speak in place and season due;
His mind was amply graced with ancient lore,
Nor less enrich'd with modern wisdom's store:
Him, while the tide of battle onward press'd
Servilius call'd..

PLAUTUS, SO named from his splay feet, was a native of Sarsina, a town in Umbria. From his father, a freedman, he is said to have received a good education, and, turning his attention early to the stage, soon realized a considerable fortune by the popularity of his dramas. This, however, he afterwards lost,-by ill success in trade, according to some, or by spending it, as others say, on theatrical ornaments and dresses, as an actor, at a time when, owing to the great famine then prevalent at Rome, theatrical amusements were little resorted to. To such necessity was he reduced, as to labour in a mill for his daily support. Many of his plays were written in these unfavourable circumstances, and may, therefore, claim from the critic an indulgence to which they could not otherwise pretend. Plautus has left nineteen comedies, almost all of them, more or less, borrowed from the ancients, and imitated by the moderns. Amongst these may be enumerated the Amphitryon, taken from a

play of Epicharmus, and imitated by Ludovico Dolce, Moliere, and Dryden; the Menæchmi, borrowed, it is supposed, from some lost play of Menander or Epicharmus, and known on the English stage, as the origin of Shakspeare's Comedy of Errors; the Aulularia, or little pot of money, supposed likewise to have been borrowed from the Greek, and freely drawn on by Moliere, Fielding, and Goldoni, in their respective comedies of L'Avare, Miser, and Vero Amico;-The Casina, translated from Diphilus, a Greek writer of the new comedy and a contemporary of Menander, and imitated by Machiaval in his Clitia, and Beaumarchais in his Marriage de Figaro.-Plautus, writing for his bread, and consulting rather the humours of the many, than the tastes of the few, has frequently exposed himself to the lash of censure; yet, with all his irregularities and defects, he is absolutely pure as compared with Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger, Dryden, Wycherly, and other of our dramatic writers in the days of the Stuarts.

Now lend attention, whilst that I unfold
The argument of this our comedy.
This city here is Thebes, and in that house
Amphitryon dwells, an Argive by his birth,
And husband of Alcmena. Which Amphitryon
Commands the Theban forces; for there's war
Betwixt the Thebans and the Teleboans.
Ere his departure hence to join the troops,
His wife was pregnant by him. Verily
Ye know my father, how he is inclin'd,
How freely he indulges in love matters,
With what excess he doats, where once he loves.
He for Alcmena entertain'd a passion,
And now is with her, in Amphitryon's form,
While I take that of Sosia, his servant,
That in this guise my father I may serve,
And none about the house ask who I am.
Meantime he is within, recounting to
His love what was transacted in the army,
She, all the while, mistaking him for her husband.
He tells her how he put the enemy's troops
To flight, and that they gave him many gifts.
These gifts, bestow'd upon Amphitryon, we
Have stolen; for my father can with ease
Do what he will.-Now, on this very day,
Amphitryon will arrive here from the army,
Together with his slave, whose form I bear.
That ye may then distinguish us more readily,
I, on my hat, these little wings shall wear;
My father, he will bear a golden tuft;
Which mark the right Amphitryon will not have,
And no one of the family will be able
To see these marks; ye only shall discern them.
But Sosia yonder comes, and bears him hither-

ward

A lantern in his hand-He makes for home,
But I shall drive him thence.-So-here he is.
It will be worth your while to mark how Jove
And Mercury will play the part of actors.
[MERCURY places himself before
AMPHITRYONS' door.

ACT I. SCENE I.

SOSIA advances with a lantern.

Sos. Is there a bolder fellow? Is there any one More stout of heart than I am? I, who know The humours of our wild young sparks, yet dare Walk by myself at this late hour of night. What shall I do now, if the watch should seize And thrust me in a prison?-Why, to-morrow I shall be serv'd up from that dainty larder, And well dress'd with a whipping-not a word

Allow'd me in my own defence;-no master
To take my part;—and ev'ry soul will think
I've my deserts:-so shall eight sturdy fellows
Bethump me like an anvil.—In this sort
They'll greet me on my coming, thus receive
And entertain me at the public charge!
These honours has my master forc'd upon me,
Who sent me from the port, so late at night,
Against my inclination.-Could he not
Have waited till 'twas day-light to despatch me?
This is the hardship of a great man's service,
Wherefore his servant leads a plaguy life on't:
By day, by night, there's work enough, and more,
That will not let him rest. The master, he
Being free himself from labour, thinks his slave
Can drudge and drudge still on, whate'er befalls
him;

Nay, thinks it just, and never counts the toil,
Nor once considers, whether his commands
Are right or wrong. Wherefore in servitude
We suffer much oppression: yet the burthen
Must be endured with pain.

Merc. (aside.)

On this account

I have more reason surely to complain
Of servitude,-I, who before was free,
Though now my father has me for his slave:
This fellow, who was born a slave, complains!
But hold-I only am a slave in name.

Sos. Stay, now I think on't. I should thank the gods

For my arrival. Would they recompense me,
As I deserve, they should commission some one
To welcome me with douses on the chaps:
For all their goodness has been thrown away
On an ungrateful rascal.

Merc.

His deserts

He knows then, which such fellows seldom do. Sos. Well, to come home in a whole skin!'twas what

I never thought, or any of our people.
The foes subdued, our troops are marching home-

ward

The war extinguished, and the enemy slain,
That wrought such bitter troubles to our Thebans;
Their town was storm'd and taken, by the strength
And valour of our men, but chief of all

By the command and conduct of Amphitryon,
My master, who has since distributed
The booty, lands, and corn among the soldiery,
And firmly fix'd King Creon in his throne.
He has sent me on before him, to acquaint
His lady with the news,-with what command
And conduct he discharg'd his public trust.
Now let me study how to frame my story :-
What if I tell her lies? I act in character:
For when the armies fought with all their might,
With all my might I ran away: however,
I'll make pretence that I was in the action,
And speak from hearsay.

Merc.
Ah, ha, he's coming hither;
I'll meet him then; I must not let him enter
Within the doors to-day: but since I bear
His semblance, I'm resolved to play him off.
As I've assum'd his form and garb, 'twere fit
I should resemble too his deeds and manners
I must be a sly, a cunning knave, and fight him