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The adverse legions, nor less hideous join'd
Prodigious power had shown, and met in arms
Author of evil, unknown till thy revolt,
So spake the Prince of Angels; to whom thus The Adversary. Nor think thou with wind Of airy threats to awe whom yet with deeds Thou canst not. Hast thou turn’d the least of these To flight, or if to fall, but that they rise Unvanquish’d, easier to transact with me That thou shouldst hope, imperious, and with threats
To chase me hence? err not, that so shall end
They ended parle, and both addressd for fight
SPEECH OF MR. BURKE ON DECLINING
THE POLL. GENTLEMEN, I decline the election. It has ever been my rule through life, to observe a proportion between my efforts and my objects. I have not canvassed the whole of this city in form. But I have taken such a view of it as satisfies my own mind, that your choice will not ultimately fall upon me. Your city, gentlemen, is in a state of miserable distraction, and I am resolved to withdraw whatever
share my pretensions have had in its unhappy divisions. I have not been in haste; I have tried all prudent means; I have waited for the effects of all contingencies.
I am not in the least surprised, nor in the least angry at this view of things. I have read the book of life for a long time, and I have read other books a little. Nothing has happened to me, but what has happened to men much better than me, and in times and in nations full 'as good as the age and the country that we live in. To say that I am no way concerned, would be neither decent nor true. The
representation of Bristol was an object on many accounts dear to me; and I certainly should very far prefer it to any other in the kingdom. My habits are made to it; and it is in general more unpleasant to be rejected after long trial, than not to be chosen at all.
But, gentlemen, I will see nothing except your former kindness, and I will give way to no other sentiments than those of gratitude. From the bottom of my heart I thank
have done to me: You have given me a long term, which is now expired. I have performed the conditions, and enjoyed all the profits to the full; and I now surrender your estate into
hands without being in a single tile, or a single stone impaired or wasted by my use. I have served the public for fifteen years. I have served you in particular for six. What is passed is well stored. It is safe, and out of the power of fortune. What is to come, is in wiser hands than ours; and He, in whose hands it is, best knows whether it is best for you and me that I should be in parliament, or even in the world.
Gentlemen, the melancholy event of yesterday reads to us an awful lesson against being too much troubled about any of the objects of ordinary ambition. The worthy gentleman,* who has been snatched from at the moment of the election, and in the middle of the contest, while his desires were as warm, and his hopes as eager as ours, has feelingly told us what shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue. It has been usual for a candidate who declines, to take his leave by a letter to the sheriffs; but I received your trust in the face of day; and in the face of day I accept your dismission. I am not, I am not at all ashamed to look upon you; nor can my presence discompose the order of business here. I humbly and respectfully take my leave of the sheriffs, the candidates, and the electors; wishing heartily that the choice may be for the best, at a time which calls, if ever time did call, for service that is not nominal. It is no plaything you are about. I tremble when I consider the trust I have presumed to ask. I confided too much in my intentions. They were really fair and upright; and I am bold to say, that I ask no ill thing for you, when on parting from this place, I pray that, whoever you choose to succeed me, he may resemble me exactly in all things, except in my abilities to serve, and my fortune to please you.
LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN. Who has e'er been in London, that overgrown place, Has seen “ Lodgings to Let" stare him full in the
face: Some' are good, and let dearly; while some, 'tis well
known, Are so dear, and so bad, they are best let alone.Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely, Hired lodgings that took Single Gentlemen only; But Will was so fat he appear'd like a tun;Or like two Single Gentlemen rolled into One. He enter'd his rooms, and to bed he retreated: But all night long he felt fever'd and heated; And, though heavy to weigh, as a score of fat sheep, He was not, by any means, heavy to sleep. Next night, 'twas the same!-and the next!-and the
next! He perspir'd like an ox; he was nervous, and vex'd