6. Cato. Let not a torrent of impetuous zeal
Transport thee thus beyond the bounds of reason.
True fortitude is seen in great exploits

That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides.
All else is tow'ring frenzy and distraction.

7. Are not the lives of those who draw the sword
In Rome's defence entrusted to our care?

8.

Should we thus lead them to the field of slaughter,
Might not th' impartial world with reason say,
We lavish'd at our death the blood of thousands,
To grace our fall, and make our ruin glorious?
Lucius, we next would know what's your opinion?
Lucius. My thoughts, I must confess, are turn'd on
peace.

Already have our quarrels fill'd the world

mankind.

With widows, and with orphans. Scythia mourns Our guilty wars, and earth's remotest regions Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome. 'Tis time to sheath the sword, and spare 9. It is not Cæsar, but the gods, my fathers; The gods declare against us; repel Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle, Prompted by blind revenge, and wild despair, Were to refuse th' awards of Providence, And not to rest in Heav'n's determination. Already have we shown our love to Rome; Now let us show submission to the gods. 10. We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves, But free the commonwealth; when this end fails, Arms have no further use: our country's cause, That drew our swords, now wrests them from our hands, And bids us not delight in Roman blood,

11.

Unprofitably shed. What men could do,

Is done already. Heav'n and earth will witness,
If Rome must fall, that we are innocent.
Cato. Let us appear nor rash nor diffident;
Immod'rate valour swells into a fault;
And fear, admitted into public councils,
Betrays like treason. Let us shun them both.
Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs

Are grown thus desp'rate: we have bulwarks around us:
Within our walls are troops inur'd to toil

In Afric's heats, and season'd to the sun:

12. Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us,
Ready to rise at its young prince's call.

While there is hope, do not distrust the gods;
But wait at least till Cæsar's near approach
Force us to yield. "Twill never be too late
To sue for chains, and own a conqueror.
13. Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time?
No, let us draw our term of freedom,out
In its full length, and spin it to the last;
So shall we gain still one day's liberty:
And let me perish; but in Cato's judgment,
A day, an hour of virtuous liberty,

Is worth a whole eternity in bondage. SHAKSPEARE.

LESSON CLXVI.

DIALOGUE ON PHYSIOGNOMY.

Frank and Henry.

Frank. It appears strange to me that people can be so imposed upon. There is no difficulty in judging folks by their looks. I profess to know as much of a man, at the first view, as by half a dozen years acquaintance.

Henry. Pray how is that done? I should wish to learn such an art.

Fr. Did you never read Lavater on Physiognomy? Hen. No. What do you mean by such a hard word? Fr. Physiognomy means a knowledge of men's hearts, thoughts, and characters, by their looks. For instance, if you see a man with a forehead jutting over his eyes like a piazza, with a pair of eye brows, heavy like the cornice of a house; with full eyes, and a Roman nose, depend on it he is a great scholar, and an honest man.

Hen. It seems to me I should rather go below his nose to discover his scholarship.

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Fr. By no means: if you look for beauty, you may scend to the mouth and chin; otherwise never go below the region of the brain.

Enter George.

George. Well, I have been to see the man hanged. And he is gone to the other world, with just such a great forehead and Roman nose, as you have always been praising.

Fr. Remember, George, all signs fail in dry weather. Geor. Now, be honest, Frank, and own that there is nothing in all this trumpery of yours. The only way to know men is by their actions. If a man commit burglary, think you a Roman nose ought to save him from punish

ment?

Fr. I don't carry my notions so far as that; but it is certain that all faces in the world are different; and equally true, that each has some marks about it, by which one can discover the temper and character of the person.

Enter Peter.

Peter. [to Frank.] Sir, I have heard of your fame from Dan to Bersheeba; that you can know a man by his face, and can tell his thoughts by his looks. Hearing this, I have visited you without the ceremony of an introduction.

Fr. Why, indeed, I profess something in that way. Pet. By that forehead, nose, and those eyes of yours, one might be sure of an acute, penetrating mind.

Fr. I see that you are not ignorant of physiognomy. Pet. I am not; but still I am so far from being an adept in the art, that unless the features are very remarkable, I cannot determine with certainty. But yours is the most striking face I ever saw. There is a certain firmness in the lines, which lead from the outer verge to the centre of the apple of your eye, which denotes great forecast, deep thought, bright invention, and a genius for great purposes. Fr. You are a perfect master of the art. And to show you that I know something of it, permit me to observe, that the form of your face denotes frankness, truth, and honesty. Your heart is a stranger to guile, your lips, to deceit, and your hands, to fraud.

Pet. I must confess that you have hit upon my true character; though a different one, from what I have sustained in the view of the world.

Fr. [to Henry and George.] Now see two strong examples of the truth of physiognomy. [While he is speaking this, Peter takes out his pocket-book, and makes off with himself. Now, can you conceive, that without this knowledge, I could fathom the character of a total stranger?

Hen. Pray tell us by what marks you discovered that in his heart and lips was no guile, and in his hands, no fraud?

Fr. Aye, leave that to me; we are not to reveal our se

crets. But I will show you a face and character, which exactly suits him. [Feels for his pocket-book in both pockets, looks wildly and concerned.]

Geor. [Tauntingly.] Aye, " in his heart is no guile, in his lips no deceit, and in his hands no fraud! Now we see a strong example of the power of physiognomy!"

Fr. He is a wretch! a traitor against every good sign! I'll pursue him to the ends of the earth. [Offers to go.] Hen. Stop a moment. His fine honest face is far enough before this time. You have not yet discovered the worst injury he has done you.

Fr. What's that? I had no watch or money for him to steal.

Hen. By his deceitful lips, he has robbed you of any just conception of yourself; he has betrayed you into a foolish belief that you are possessed of most extraordinary genius and talents. Whereas, separate from the idle whim about physiognomy, you have had no more pretence to genius or learning than a common school-boy. Learn henceforth to estimate men's hands by their deeds, their lips, by their words, and their hearts, by their lives.

LESSON CLXVII.

The Sultan and Mr. Haswell.*

Sultan. Englishman, you were invited hither to receive public thanks for our troops restored to health by your prescriptions. Ask a reward adequate to your services.

Hasw. Sultan, the reward I ask, is, leave to preserve more of your people still.

Sult. How more? my subjects are in health; no contagion visits them.

* In the year 1786, says Mrs. Inchbald, (the authoress of the play from which the above interesting extract is selected,) Howard, under the name of Haswell, was on his philanthropic travels through Europe and parts of Asia, to mitigate the sufferings of the prisoners. He fell a sacrifice to his humanity; for visiting a sick person at Cherson, who had a malignant fever, he caught the infection, and died January 20, 1790, aged 70. A statue is erected to his memory in St. Paul's Cathedral, with a suitable inscription.

Hasw. The prisoner is your subject. There, misery, more contagious than disease, preys on the lives of hundreds: sentenced but to confinement, their doom is death. Immured in damp and dreary vaults, they daily perish; and who can tell but that, among the many hapless sufferers, there may be hearts bent down with penitence, to heaven and you, for every slight offence-there may be some, among the wretched multitude, even innocent victims. Let me seek them out-let me save them and you.

Sult. Amazement! retract your application: curb this weak pity; and accept our thanks.

Hasw. Restrain my pity;-and what can I receive in recompense for that soft bond which links me to the wretched? and, while it sooths their sorrow, repays me more than all the gifts an empire can bestow!-But, if it be a virtue repugnant to your plan of government, I apply not in the name of Pity, but of Justice.

Sult. Justice!

Hasw. The justice that forbids all, but the worst of criminals, to be denied that wholesome air the very brute creation freely takes.

Sult. Consider for whom you plead for men (if not base culprits) so misled, so depraved, they are dangerous to our state, and deserve none of its blessings.

Hasw. If not upon the undeserving-if not upon the wretched wanderer from the paths of rectitude-where shall the sun diffuse his light, or the clouds distil their dew? Where shall spring breathe fragrance, or autumn pour its plenty?

Sult. Sir, your sentiments, still more your character, excite my curiosity. They tell me, that in our camps you visited each sick man's bed; administered yourself the healing draught; encouraged our savages with the hope of life, or pointed out their better hope in death.The widow speaks your charities, the orphan lisps your bounties, and the rough Indian melts in tears to bless you.—I wish to ask why have you done all this?-what is it that prompts you thus to befriend the miserable and forlorn?

Hasw. It is in vain to explain: the time it would take to reveal to you

Sult. Satisfy my curiosity in writing, then.

Hasw. Nay, if you will read, I'll send a book in which is already written why I act thus.

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