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But Man in Life surcharg'd with Woe before,
Not freed when dead, is doom'd to suffer more.
A Serpent shoots his Sting at unaware;
An ambush'd Thief forelays a Traveller:
The Man lies murder'd, while the Thief and Snake,
One gains the Thickets, and one thrids the Brake,
This let Divines decide; but well I know,
Just, or unjust, I have my Share of Woe,
Through Saturn seated in a lucklefs Place,
And Juro's Wrath, that persecutes my Race;
Or Mars and Venus in a Quartil; move
My Pangs of Jealousie for Arcite's Love,

Let Palamon oppress’d in Bondage mourn,
While to his exil'd Rival we return.
By this the Sun declining from his Height,
The Day had shortend to prolong the Night:
The lengthen’d Night gave length of Misery
Both to the Captive Lover, and the Free.
For Palamon in endless Prison mourns,
And Arcite forfeits Life if he returns.
The Banish'd never hopes his Love to see,
Nor hopes the Captive Lord his Liberty;

'Tis hard to say who suffers greater Pains,
One sees his Love, but cannot break his Chains:
One free, and all his Motions uncontrould,
Beholds,whate'er he wou'd, but what he wou'd be-
Judge as you please, for I will haste to tell

What Fortune to the banish?d Knight befel.
When Arcite was to Thebes return’d again,
The Loss of her he lov'd renew'd his Pain;
What could be worse, than never more to see
His Life, his Soul, his charming Emily?
He rav'd with all the Madness of Despair,
He roard, he beat his Breast, he tore his Hair.
Dry Sorrow in his stupid Eyes appears,
For wanting Nourishment, he wanted Tears:
His Eye-balls in their hollow Sockets sink,
Bereft of Sleep; he loaths his Meat and Drink.
He withers at his Heart, and looks as wan
As the pale Spectre of a murder'd Man:
That Pale turns Yellow, and his Face receives
The faded Hųe of fapless Boxen Leaves:
În solitary Groves he makes his Moan,
Walks early out, and ever is alone.

Nor mix'd in Mirth, in youthful Pleasure fhares,
But fighs when Songs and Instruments he hears:
His Spirits are so low, his Voice is drown'd,
He hears as from afar, or in a 'Swoond,
Like the deaf Murmurs of a diftant Sound:
Uncomb’d his Locks, and fqualid his Attire,
Unlike the Trim of Love and gay Desire ;
But full of museful Mopings, which prefage
The Loss of Reafon, and conclude in Rage.

This when he had endur'da Year and more,
Now wholly chang?d from what he was before,
Ic happend once, chat flumbring as he lay,
He dreamt (his Dream began at Break of Day)
That Hermes o'er his Head in Air appear'd,
And with foft Wordshis drooping Spirits cheer'd:
His Hat, adora'd with Wings, disclos'd the God,
And in hisHand he bore the Sleep.compelling Rod:
Such as he feem'd, when at his Sire's Command
On Argus® Head he laid the Snaky Wand
Arise, he said, to conqu’ring Athens go,
There Fate appoints an End of all thy Woe.
The Fright awaken'd Arcite with a Start,
Against his Bosom bounc'd his heaving Heart;

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But soon he said, with scarce-recover'd Breath,
And thither will I go, to meet my Death,
Sure to be flain; but Death is my Desire,
Since in Emilia's Sight I shall expire.
By chance he fpy'd a Mirrour while he spoke,
And gazing there beheld his alter'd Look ;
Wondring, he saw his Features and his Hue
So much were chang?d,that scarce himselfhe knew,
A sudden Thought then starting in his Mind,
Since I in Arcite cannot Arcite find,
The World may search in vain with all their Eyes,
But never penetrate through this
Thanks to the Change which Grief and Sickness
In low Estate I may fecurely live,

(give, And see unknown my Miftress Day by Day: He said ; and cloath'd himself in course Array ; A lab’ring Hind in thew: Then forth he went, And to th’ Athenian Tow?rs bis Journey bent: One Squire attended in the fame Difgaise, Made conscious of his Master's Enterprize. Arriv'd at Athens, foon he came to Court, Unknown, unquestion’d in that thick Resort ;

Proff'ring for Hire his Service at the Gate,
To drudge, draw Water, and to run or wait.

So fair befel him, that for little Gain
He sery'd at first Emilia's Chamberlain;
And watchful all Advantages to spy,
Was still at Hand, and in his Master's Eye ;
And as his Bones were big, and Sinews strong,
Refus'd no Toil that could to Slaves belong;
But from deep Wells with Engines Water drew,
And us'd his Noble Hands the Wood to hew.
He pafs’d a Year at least attending thus
On Emily, and cali'd Philostratus.
But never was there Man of his Degree
So much esteem’d, so well belov'd as he,
So gentle of Condition was he known,
That through the Court his Courtesie was blown:
All think him worthy of a greater Place,
And recommend him to the Royal Grace;
That exercis'd within a higher Sphere,
His Virtues more conspicuous might appear.
Thus by the gen’ral Voice was Arcite prais’d,
And by Great Theseus to high Fayour rais'd ;

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