"Sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's Child!"
"Ah! you may quote me against myself," says Father; "you may quote Beza against Beza, and Erasmus against Erasmus; but that will not shake the eternal Laws of Purity and Truth. But, mind you, Ned, never did anie reach a more lofty or tragic Height than this Child of Fancy; never did any represent Nature more purely to the Life; and e'en where the Polishments of Art are most wanting in him, he pleaseth with a certain wild and native Elegance."
"And what have you now in Hand, Uncle?" Ned asks.
"Firmianus Chlorus," says Father. "But I don't find Much in him."
"I mean, what of your own?"
"Oh!" laughing; "Things in Heaven, Ned, and Things on Earth, and Things under the Earth. The old Story, whereof you have alreadie seen many Parcels; but, you know, my Vein ne'er flows so happily as from the autumnal to the vernal Equinox. Howbeit, there is Something in the Quality of this Air would arouse the old Man of Chios himself."
"Sure," cries Ned, "you have less Need than any blind Man to complayn, since you have but closed your Eyes on Earth to look on Heaven!"
Father paused; then, stedfastly, in Words I've since sett down, sayd:—
"When I consider how my Light is spent,
Ere half my Days, in this dark World and wide,
And that one Talent, which is Death to hide,
Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true Account, lest He, returning, chide;
'Doth God exact Day-labour, Light denied?'
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That Murmur, soon replies,—'God doth not need.
Either Man's Work, or his own Gifts. Who best
Bear his mild Yoke, they serve him best. His State
Is kingly; Thousands at his Bidding speed,
And post o'er Land and Ocean without Rest,
They also serve who only stand and wait.'"
. . . We were all quiet enough for a while after this . . . Ned onlie breathing hard, and squeezing Father's Hand. At length, Mother calls from the House, "Who will come in to Strawberries and Cream?"