Honours English with Nusrat

THE LIFE OF COWLEY: 03

samuel johnson

main text:

In 1643, Cowley, who had already earned a Master of Arts degree, was expelled from Cambridge due to the dominance of Parliament during the political conflict. He took refuge at St. John’s College in Oxford. There, he wrote a satire titled The Puritan and Papist, which later appeared in his collected works. Because of his strong loyalty to the King and his refined manner of conversation, he gained the respect and trust of the royal circle, including Lord Falkland, whose influence added honour to those he associated with.

Later, when Oxford was surrendered to Parliament, Cowley followed the Queen to Paris. There he served as secretary to Lord Jermin (later Earl of St. Albans).

employed in such correspondence as the royal cause required, and particularly in cyphering and decyphering the letters that passed between the King and Queen; an employment of the highest confidence and honour. So wide was his province of intelligence, that, for several years, it filled all his days and two or three nights in the week.

In the year 1647, his ‘Mistress’ was pub-lished; for he imagined, as he declared in his preface to a subsequent edition, that ‘poets are scarce thought freemen of their company with-out paying some duties, or obliging themselves to be true to Love.’

This obligation to amorous ditties owes, I be-lieve, its original to the fame of Petrarch, who, in an age rude and uncultivated, by his tuneful homage to his Laura, refined the manners of the lettered world, and filled Europe with love and poetry. But the basis of all excellence is truth: he that professes love ought to feel its power. Pet-rarch was a real lover, and Laura doubtless de-served his tenderness. Of Cowley, we are told by Barnes, who had means enough of information, that, whatever he may talk of his own inflam-mability, and the variety of characters by which

Translation in Bengali:

employed in such correspondence as the royal cause required, = āϰāĻžāϜāϕ⧀āϝāĻŧ āωāĻĻā§āĻĻ⧇āĻļā§āϝ⧇ āϝāϤ āϧāϰāύ⧇āϰ āĻĒāĻ¤ā§āϰāĻžāϞāĻžāĻĒ āĻĒā§āϰāϝāĻŧā§‹āϜāύ āĻšāϤ⧋, āϏ⧇āϏāĻŦ āĻ•āĻžāĻœā§‡ āύāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻ•ā§āϤ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ, and particularly in cyphering and decyphering the letters that passed between the King and Queen; = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻŦāĻŋāĻļ⧇āώ āĻ•āϰ⧇ āϰāĻžāϜāĻž āĻ“ āϰāĻžāύ⧀āϰ āĻŽāĻ§ā§āϝ⧇ āφāĻĻāĻžāύ-āĻĒā§āϰāĻĻāĻžāύ āĻšāĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻž āϚāĻŋāĻ āĻŋāϗ⧁āϞ⧋āϕ⧇ āϏāĻ‚āϕ⧇āϤāϞāĻŋāĻĒāĻŋāϤ⧇ āϰ⧂āĻĒāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤāϰ āĻ“ āϏāĻ‚āϕ⧇āϤ āĻ­āĻžāĻ™āĻžāϰ āĻ•āĻžāĻœā§‡ āϝ⧁āĻ•ā§āϤ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ; an employment of the highest confidence and honour. = āĻāϟāĻŋ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ āĻ…āĻ¤ā§āϝāĻ¨ā§āϤ āĻŦāĻŋāĻļā§āĻŦāĻžāϏ āĻ“ āĻŽāĻ°ā§āϝāĻžāĻĻāĻžāĻĒā§‚āĻ°ā§āĻŖ āĻĻāĻžāϝāĻŧāĻŋāĻ¤ā§āĻŦāĨ¤ So wide was his province of intelligence, = āϤāĻžāρāϰ āϤāĻĨā§āϝāϏāĻ‚āĻ—ā§āϰāĻš āĻ“ āĻ—ā§‹āĻĒāύ āĻ•āĻžāĻ°ā§āϝāĻ•ā§āώ⧇āĻ¤ā§āϰ āĻāϤ āĻŦāĻŋāĻ¸ā§āϤ⧃āϤ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ, that, for several years, it filled all his days and two or three nights in the week. = āϝ⧇ āĻ•āϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ• āĻŦāĻ›āϰ āϧāϰ⧇ āĻāϟāĻŋ āϤāĻžāρāϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋāϟāĻŋ āĻĻāĻŋāύ āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϏāĻĒā§āϤāĻžāĻšā§‡āϰ āĻĻ⧁āχ āĻŦāĻž āϤāĻŋāύāϟāĻŋ āϰāĻžāϤ āϏāĻŽā§āĻĒā§‚āĻ°ā§āĻŖāĻ­āĻžāĻŦ⧇ āĻŦā§āϝāĻ¸ā§āϤ āϰāĻžāĻ–āϤāĨ¤ In the year 1647, his ‘Mistress’ was published; = ā§§ā§Ŧā§Ēā§­ āϏāĻžāϞ⧇ āϤāĻžāρāϰ ‘Mistress’ āĻĒā§āϰāĻ•āĻžāĻļāĻŋāϤ āĻšāϝāĻŧ; for he imagined, as he declared in his preface to a subsequent edition, = āĻ•āĻžāϰāĻŖ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻŽāύ⧇ āĻ•āϰāϤ⧇āύ, āϝ⧇āĻŽāύāϟāĻŋ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻĒāϰāĻŦāĻ°ā§āϤ⧀ āϏāĻ‚āĻ¸ā§āĻ•āϰāϪ⧇āϰ āĻ­ā§‚āĻŽāĻŋāĻ•āĻžāϝāĻŧ āωāĻ˛ā§āϞ⧇āĻ– āĻ•āϰ⧇āϛ⧇āύ, that ‘poets are scarce thought freemen of their company without paying some duties, = āϝ⧇ “āĻ•āĻŦāĻŋāϰāĻž āĻĒā§āϰ⧇āĻŽā§‡āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁ āĻĻāĻžāϝāĻŧāĻŋāĻ¤ā§āĻŦ āĻĒāĻžāϞāύ āύāĻž āĻ•āϰāϞ⧇, or obliging themselves to be true to Love.’ = āĻ…āĻĨāĻŦāĻž āĻĒā§āϰ⧇āĻŽā§‡āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāĻļā§āĻŦāĻ¸ā§āϤ āĻĨāĻžāĻ•āĻžāϰ āĻ…āĻ™ā§āĻ—ā§€āĻ•āĻžāϰ āύāĻž āĻ•āϰāϞ⧇, āϤāĻžāρāĻĻ⧇āϰ āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āĻĻ⧇āϰ āϏāĻŽāĻžāĻœā§‡āϰ āĻĒā§‚āĻ°ā§āĻŖ āϏāĻĻāĻ¸ā§āϝ āĻŦāϞ⧇ āĻ—āĻŖā§āϝ āĻ•āϰāĻž āĻšāϝāĻŧ āύāĻžāĨ¤â€ This obligation to amorous ditties owes, I believe, its original to the fame of Petrarch, = āφāĻŽāĻžāϰ āĻŦāĻŋāĻļā§āĻŦāĻžāϏ, āĻĒā§āϰ⧇āĻŽāĻŽā§‚āϞāĻ• āĻ—ā§€āϤāĻŋāĻ•āĻŦāĻŋāϤāĻž āϞ⧇āĻ–āĻžāϰ āĻāχ āĻŦāĻžāĻ§ā§āϝāĻŦāĻžāϧāĻ•āϤāĻžāϰ āϏ⧂āϚāύāĻž āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇āϛ⧇ āĻĒ⧇āĻ¤ā§āϰāĻžāĻ°ā§āϕ⧇āϰ āĻ–ā§āϝāĻžāϤāĻŋ āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇, who, in an age rude and uncultivated, = āϝāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻāĻ• āϰ⧁āĻ•ā§āώ āĻ“ āĻ…āĻļāĻŋāĻ•ā§āώāĻŋāϤ āϝ⧁āϗ⧇, by his tuneful homage to his Laura, = āϤāĻžāρāϰ āϞāϰāĻž-āϕ⧇ āύāĻŋāĻŦ⧇āĻĻāĻŋāϤ āϏ⧁āϰ⧇āϞāĻž āĻĒā§āϰāĻļāĻ‚āϏāĻžāĻ—āĻžāĻĨāĻžāϰ āĻŽāĻžāĻ§ā§āϝāĻŽā§‡, refined the manners of the lettered world, = āĻļāĻŋāĻ•ā§āώāĻŋāϤ āϏāĻŽāĻžāĻœā§‡āϰ āϰ⧁āϚāĻŋ āĻ“ āφāϚāϰāĻŖāϕ⧇ āĻŽāĻžāĻ°ā§āϜāĻŋāϤ āĻ•āϰ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ, and filled Europe with love and poetry. = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϏāĻŽāĻ—ā§āϰ āχāωāϰ⧋āĻĒāϕ⧇ āĻĒā§āϰ⧇āĻŽ āĻ“ āĻ•āĻŦāĻŋāϤāĻžāϝāĻŧ āĻĒā§‚āĻ°ā§āĻŖ āĻ•āϰ⧇ āϤ⧁āϞ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύāĨ¤ But the basis of all excellence is truth: = āĻ•āĻŋāĻ¨ā§āϤ⧁ āϏāĻŦ āĻ‰ā§ŽāĻ•āĻ°ā§āώ⧇āϰ āĻ­āĻŋāĻ¤ā§āϤāĻŋ āĻšāϞ⧋ āϏāĻ¤ā§āϝāĨ¤ he that professes love ought to feel its power. = āϝ⧇ āĻĒā§āϰ⧇āĻŽā§‡āϰ āĻĻāĻžāĻŦāĻŋ āĻ•āϰ⧇, āϤāĻžāϰ āĻĒā§āϰ⧇āĻŽā§‡āϰ āĻļāĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāĻ“ āĻ…āύ⧁āĻ­āĻŦ āĻ•āϰāĻž āωāϚāĻŋāϤāĨ¤ Petrarch was a real lover, = āĻĒ⧇āĻ¤ā§āϰāĻžāĻ°ā§āĻ• āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ āϏāĻ¤ā§āϝāĻŋāĻ•āĻžāϰ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰ⧇āĻŽāĻŋāĻ•, and Laura doubtless deserved his tenderness. = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āύāĻŋāσāϏāĻ¨ā§āĻĻ⧇āĻšā§‡ āϞāϰāĻž āϤāĻžāρāϰ āĻ­āĻžāϞ⧋āĻŦāĻžāϏāĻž āĻĒāĻžāĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻžāϰ āϝ⧋āĻ—ā§āϝ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύāĨ¤ Of Cowley, we are told by Barnes, = āĻ•āĻžāωāϞāĻŋ āϏāĻŽā§āĻĒāĻ°ā§āϕ⧇ āĻŦāĻžāĻ°ā§āύāϏ āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āϜāĻžāύāĻžāύ, who had means enough of information, = āϝāĻžāρāϰ āĻ•āĻžāϛ⧇ āϝāĻĨ⧇āĻˇā§āϟ āϤāĻĨā§āϝ⧇āϰ āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ, that, whatever he may talk of his own inflammability, = āϝ⧇ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϰ āϏāĻšāĻœā§‡ āĻĒā§āϰ⧇āĻŽā§‡ āĻĒāĻĄāĻŧāĻžāϰ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻ­āĻžāĻŦ āύāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇ āϝāϤ āĻ•āĻĨāĻžāχ āĻŦāϞ⧁āύ āύāĻž āϕ⧇āύ, and the variety of characters by which— = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻŦāĻŋāĻ­āĻŋāĻ¨ā§āύ āϚāϰāĻŋāĻ¤ā§āϰ⧇āϰ āύāĻžāϰ⧀āĻĻ⧇āϰ āϏāĻŽā§āĻĒāĻ°ā§āϕ⧇ āϝ⧇āĻ­āĻžāĻŦ⧇āχ āĻŦāĻ°ā§āĻŖāύāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧁āύ āύāĻž āϕ⧇āĻ¨â€”

main text:

Samuel Johnson describes an important period in Cowley’s life when he worked in secret royal correspondence during the civil war. He was trusted with encoding and decoding letters between the King and Queen, a position of great honour and confidence. His responsibilities were so extensive that they occupied almost all of his days and several nights each week.

In 1647, Cowley published Mistress, believing that poets were expected to write about love in order to be accepted among other poets. Johnson explains that this tradition began largely from the influence of Petrarch, whose poems for Laura spread the ideals of love and poetry throughout Europe.

However, Johnson argues that true excellence in love poetry must be based on genuine feeling. He considers Petrarch a sincere lover, but questions whether Cowley’s expressions of love were equally real and heartfelt.his heart was divided, he in reality was in love but once, and then never had resolution to tell his passion.

This consideration cannot but abate, in some measure, the reader’s esteem for the work and the author. To love excellence, is natural; it is natural likewise for the lover to solicit reciprocal regard by an elaborate display of his own qualifi-cations. The desire of pleasing has in different men produced actions of heroism, and effusions of wit; but it seems as reasonable to appear the champion as the poet of an ‘airy nothingšo,’ and to quarrel as to write for what Cowley might have learned from his master Pindar to call the ‘dream of a shadowšš.’

It is surely not difficult, in the solitude of a college, or in the bustle of the world, to find use-ful studies and serious employment. No mar needs to be so burthened with life as to squander it in voluntary dreams of fictitious occurrences The man that sits down to suppose himsel charged with treason or peculation, and heats hi mind to an elaborate purgation of his characte from crimes which he was never within the posibility-

Translation in Bengali:

his heart was divided, = āϤāĻžāρāϰ āĻšā§ƒāĻĻāϝāĻŧ āĻŦāĻŋāĻ­āĻ•ā§āϤ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ, he in reality was in love but once, = āĻŦāĻžāĻ¸ā§āϤāĻŦ⧇ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻŽāĻžāĻ¤ā§āϰ āĻāĻ•āĻŦāĻžāϰāχ āĻĒā§āϰ⧇āĻŽā§‡ āĻĒāĻĄāĻŧ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ, and then never had resolution to tell his passion. = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϤāĻ–āύāĻ“ āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϰ āĻĒā§āϰ⧇āĻŽ āĻĒā§āϰāĻ•āĻžāĻļ āĻ•āϰāĻžāϰ āϏāĻžāĻšāϏ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻ•āĻ–āύ⧋ āĻĒāĻžāύāύāĻŋāĨ¤ This consideration cannot but abate, in some measure, the reader’s esteem for the work and the author. = āĻāχ āĻŦāĻŋāώāϝāĻŧāϟāĻŋ āĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁āϟāĻž āĻšāϞ⧇āĻ“ āĻĒāĻžāĻ āϕ⧇āϰ āĻ•āĻžāϛ⧇ āϰāϚāύāĻž āĻ“ āϞ⧇āĻ–āϕ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻ°ā§āϝāĻžāĻĻāĻž āĻ•āĻŽāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇ āĻĻ⧇āϝāĻŧāĨ¤ To love excellence, is natural; = āĻ‰ā§ŽāĻ•āĻ°ā§āώāϕ⧇ āĻ­āĻžāϞ⧋āĻŦāĻžāϏāĻž āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāĻ­āĻžāĻŦāĻŋāĻ•; it is natural likewise for the lover to solicit reciprocal regard = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻĒā§āϰ⧇āĻŽāĻŋāϕ⧇āϰ āĻĒāĻ•ā§āώ āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋāĻĻāĻžāύ⧇ āĻ­āĻžāϞ⧋āĻŦāĻžāϏāĻž āĻ•āĻžāĻŽāύāĻž āĻ•āϰāĻžāĻ“ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāĻ­āĻžāĻŦāĻŋāĻ•, by an elaborate display of his own qualifications. = āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϰ āϗ⧁āĻŖāĻžāĻŦāϞāĻŋāϰ āĻŦāĻŋāĻ¸ā§āϤ⧃āϤ āĻĒā§āϰāĻĻāĻ°ā§āĻļāύ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻžāĻ§ā§āϝāĻŽā§‡āĨ¤ The desire of pleasing has in different men produced actions of heroism, and effusions of wit; = āĻ…āĻ¨ā§āϝāϕ⧇ āφāύāĻ¨ā§āĻĻ āĻĻ⧇āĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻžāϰ āφāĻ•āĻžāĻ™ā§āĻ•ā§āώāĻž āĻŦāĻŋāĻ­āĻŋāĻ¨ā§āύ āĻŽāĻžāύ⧁āώ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻ§ā§āϝ⧇ āĻŦā§€āϰāĻ¤ā§āĻŦāĻĒā§‚āĻ°ā§āĻŖ āĻ•āĻžāϜ āĻ“ āĻŦ⧁āĻĻā§āϧāĻŋāĻĻā§€āĻĒā§āϤ āϰāϚāύāĻžāϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āĻŽ āĻĻāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇āϛ⧇; but it seems as reasonable to appear the champion as the poet of an ‘airy nothing,’ = āĻ•āĻŋāĻ¨ā§āϤ⧁ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ “āĻ…āĻŦāĻžāĻ¸ā§āϤāĻŦ āĻ•āĻ˛ā§āĻĒāύāĻžâ€-āϰ āĻ•āĻŦāĻŋ āĻšāĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻžāϰ āĻŽāϤ⧋āχ āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϕ⧇ āϤāĻžāϰ āϝ⧋āĻĻā§āϧāĻž āĻšāĻŋāϏ⧇āĻŦ⧇ āωāĻĒāĻ¸ā§āĻĨāĻžāĻĒāύ āĻ•āϰāĻžāĻ“ āϏāĻŽāĻžāύ āϝ⧁āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϏāĻ™ā§āĻ—āϤ āĻŽāύ⧇ āĻšāϝāĻŧ, and to quarrel as to write for what Cowley might have learned from his master Pindar to call the ‘dream of a shadow.’ = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻāĻŽāύ āĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁āϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻāĻ—āĻĄāĻŧāĻž āĻ•āϰāĻž āĻŦāĻž āϞ⧇āĻ–āĻž, āϝāĻžāϕ⧇ āĻ•āĻžāωāϞāĻŋ āϤāĻžāρāϰ āϗ⧁āϰ⧁ āĻĒāĻŋāĻ¨ā§āĻĄāĻžāϰ⧇āϰ āĻ•āĻžāĻ› āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ “āĻ›āĻžāϝāĻŧāĻžāϰ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻĒā§āĻ¨â€ āĻŦāϞāϤ⧇ āĻļāĻŋāϖ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύāĨ¤ It is surely not difficult, in the solitude of a college, or in the bustle of the world, = āύāĻŋāĻļā§āϚāϝāĻŧāχ āĻ•āϞ⧇āĻœā§‡āϰ āύāĻŋāσāϏāĻ™ā§āĻ—āϤāĻž āĻ•āĻŋāĻ‚āĻŦāĻž āĻĒ⧃āĻĨāĻŋāĻŦā§€āϰ āϕ⧋āϞāĻžāĻšāϞ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻ§ā§āϝ⧇āĻ“, to find useful studies and serious employment. = āωāĻĒāĻ•āĻžāϰ⧀ āĻ…āĻ§ā§āϝāϝāĻŧāύ āĻ“ āϗ⧁āϰ⧁āϤāϰ āĻ•āĻžāϜ āϖ⧁āρāĻœā§‡ āĻĒāĻžāĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻž āĻ•āĻ āĻŋāύ āύāϝāĻŧāĨ¤ No man needs to be so burthened with life = āϕ⧋āύ⧋ āĻŽāĻžāύ⧁āώ⧇āϰ āĻœā§€āĻŦāύ⧇ āĻāϤ āĻŦ⧇āĻļāĻŋ āĻ­āĻžāϰāĻžāĻ•ā§āϰāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤ āĻšāĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻžāϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϝāĻŧā§‹āϜāύ āύ⧇āχ as to squander it in voluntary dreams of fictitious occurrences. = āϝ⧇ āϏ⧇ āĻ•āĻ˛ā§āĻĒāĻŋāϤ āϘāϟāύāĻžāϰ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦ⧇āĻšā§āĻ›āĻžāĻ•ā§ƒāϤ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻĒā§āύ⧇ āĻœā§€āĻŦāύ āύāĻˇā§āϟ āĻ•āϰāĻŦ⧇āĨ¤ The man that sits down to suppose himself charged with treason or peculation, = āϝ⧇ āĻŦā§āϝāĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋ āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϕ⧇ āϰāĻžāĻˇā§āĻŸā§āϰāĻĻā§āϰ⧋āĻš āĻŦāĻž āĻ…āĻ°ā§āĻĨ āφāĻ¤ā§āĻŽāϏāĻžāϤ⧇āϰ āĻ…āĻ­āĻŋāϝ⧋āϗ⧇ āĻ…āĻ­āĻŋāϝ⧁āĻ•ā§āϤ āĻ•āĻ˛ā§āĻĒāύāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇ āĻŦāϏ⧇, and heats his mind to an elaborate purgation of his character = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϰ āϚāϰāĻŋāĻ¤ā§āϰāϕ⧇ āύāĻŋāĻ°ā§āĻĻā§‹āώ āĻĒā§āϰāĻŽāĻžāĻŖ āĻ•āϰāĻžāϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻŽāύ⧇ āϤ⧀āĻŦā§āϰ āωāĻ¤ā§āϤ⧇āϜāύāĻž āϏ⧃āĻˇā§āϟāĻŋ āĻ•āϰ⧇, from crimes which he was never within the possibility— = āϏ⧇āϏāĻŦ āĻ…āĻĒāϰāĻžāϧ āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϕ⧇ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤ āĻĻ⧇āĻ–āĻžāϤ⧇, āϝ⧇āϗ⧁āϞ⧋ āĻ•āϰāĻžāϰ āϏāĻŽā§āĻ­āĻžāĻŦāύāĻžāϰ āĻŽāĻ§ā§āϝ⧇āĻ“ āϏ⧇ āĻ•āĻ–āύ⧋ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ āύāĻžâ€”

main text:

Samuel Johnson says that Cowley truly fell in love only once in his life, and even then he never had the courage to express it. Because of this, Johnson feels that Cowley’s emotional sincerity as a love poet becomes doubtful, which slightly reduces the reader’s respect for both the poet and his work.

Johnson then reflects that while it is natural for people to admire excellence and seek approval from others, this desire can lead to exaggerated self-expression in poetry and actions. However, he criticizes the idea of wasting life in imagination and unrealistic thinking.He argues that whether in the quiet of a college or in the busy world, people can always find meaningful and useful work. There is no need to burden life with unnecessary fantasies or to imagine false situations, such as accusing oneself of crimes that never happened, only to mentally defend oneself.

sibility of committing, differs only by the infre-quency of his folly from him who praises beauty which he never saw, complains of jealousy which he never felt; supposes himself sometimes invited, and sometimes forsaken; fatigues his fancy, and ransacks his memory, for images which may ex-hibit the gaiety of hope, or the gloominess of de-spair, and dresses his imaginary Chloris or Phyllis sometimes in flowers fading as her beauty, and sometimes in gems lasting as her virtues.

At Paris, as secretary to Lord Jermin, he was engaged in transacting things of real importance with real men and real women, and at that time did not much employ his thoughts upon phan-toms of gallantry. Some of his letters to Mr. Bennet, afterwards Earl of Arlington, from April to December in 1650, are preserved in ‘Miscel-lanea Aulica,’ a collection of papers published by Brownš2. These letters, being written like those ☐ of other men whose mind is more on things than words, contribute no otherwise to his reputation than as they shew him to have been above the affectation of unseasonable elegance, and to have known that the business of a statesman can be little forwarded by flowers of rhetorick.One passage, however, seems not unworthy of some notice. Speaking of the Scotch treaty then in agitation:’The Scotch treaty,’ says he, ‘is the only thing now in which we are vitally concerned; I am one of the last hopers, and yet cannot now abstain from believing, that an agreement will be made: all people upon the place incline to that of union. The Scotch will moderate something of the rigour of their demands; the mutual necessity of an accord is visible, the King is persuaded of it. And to tell you the truth (which I take to be an argument above all the rest), Virgil has told the same thing to that purpose.’

Translation in Bengali:

…differs only by the infrequency of his folly = āϤāĻžāϰ āĻāχ āύāĻŋāĻ°ā§āĻŦ⧁āĻĻā§āϧāĻŋāϤāĻžāϰ āĻŦāĻŋāϰāϞāϤāĻžāϰ āĻĻāĻŋāĻ• āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇āχ āϕ⧇āĻŦāϞ āĻĒāĻžāĻ°ā§āĻĨāĻ•ā§āϝ āϰāϝāĻŧ⧇āϛ⧇ from him who praises beauty which he never saw, = āϏ⧇āχ āĻŦā§āϝāĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϰ āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇, āϝ⧇ āĻāĻŽāύ āϏ⧌āĻ¨ā§āĻĻāĻ°ā§āϝ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāĻļāĻ‚āϏāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇ āϝāĻž āϏ⧇ āĻ•āĻ–āύ⧋ āĻĻ⧇āϖ⧇āύāĻŋ, complains of jealousy which he never felt; = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻāĻŽāύ āψāĻ°ā§āώāĻžāϰ āĻ…āĻ­āĻŋāϝ⧋āĻ— āĻ•āϰ⧇ āϝāĻž āϏ⧇ āĻ•āĻ–āύ⧋ āĻ…āύ⧁āĻ­āĻŦāχ āĻ•āϰ⧇āύāĻŋ; supposes himself sometimes invited, = āĻ•āĻ–āύ⧋ āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϕ⧇ āφāĻŽāĻ¨ā§āĻ¤ā§āϰāĻŋāϤ āĻŦāϞ⧇ āĻ•āĻ˛ā§āĻĒāύāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇, and sometimes forsaken; = āφāĻŦāĻžāϰ āĻ•āĻ–āύ⧋ āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϕ⧇ āĻĒāϰāĻŋāĻ¤ā§āϝāĻ•ā§āϤ āĻŽāύ⧇ āĻ•āϰ⧇; fatigues his fancy, = āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϰ āĻ•āĻ˛ā§āĻĒāύāĻžāĻļāĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϕ⧇ āĻ•ā§āϞāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤ āĻ•āϰ⧇, and ransacks his memory, = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻ¸ā§āĻŽā§ƒāϤāĻŋāϕ⧇ āϤāĻ¨ā§āύ āϤāĻ¨ā§āύ āĻ•āϰ⧇ āĻ–ā§‹āρāĻœā§‡, for images which may exhibit the gaiety of hope, = āĻāĻŽāύ āϏāĻŦ āϚāĻŋāĻ¤ā§āϰ⧇āϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āϝāĻž āφāĻļāĻžāϰ āωāĻšā§āĻ›ā§āĻŦāĻžāϏ āĻĒā§āϰāĻ•āĻžāĻļ āĻ•āϰāϤ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāϰ⧇, or the gloominess of despair, = āĻ…āĻĨāĻŦāĻž āĻšāϤāĻžāĻļāĻžāϰ āĻŦāĻŋāώāĻŖā§āύāϤāĻž āϤ⧁āϞ⧇ āϧāϰāϤ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāϰ⧇, and dresses his imaginary Chloris or Phyllis = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϤāĻžāϰ āĻ•āĻ˛ā§āĻĒāĻŋāϤ āĻ•ā§āϞ⧋āϰāĻŋāϏ āĻŦāĻž āĻĢāĻŋāϞāĻŋāϏāϕ⧇ āϏāĻžāϜāĻžāϝāĻŧ, sometimes in flowers fading as her beauty, = āĻ•āĻ–āύ⧋ āĻāĻŽāύ āĻĢ⧁āϞ āĻĻāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇, āϝāĻž āϤāĻžāϰ āϏ⧌āĻ¨ā§āĻĻāĻ°ā§āϝ⧇āϰ āĻŽāϤ⧋āχ āĻĻā§āϰ⧁āϤ āĻŽā§āϞāĻžāύ āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇ āϝāĻžāϝāĻŧ, and sometimes in gems lasting as her virtues. = āφāĻŦāĻžāϰ āĻ•āĻ–āύ⧋ āĻāĻŽāύ āϰāĻ¤ā§āύ āĻĻāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇, āϝāĻž āϤāĻžāϰ āϗ⧁āĻŖāĻžāĻŦāϞāĻŋāϰ āĻŽāϤ⧋āχ āϚāĻŋāϰāĻ¸ā§āĻĨāĻžāϝāĻŧā§€āĨ¤

At Paris, = āĻĒā§āϝāĻžāϰāĻŋāϏ⧇, as secretary to Lord Jermin, = āϞāĻ°ā§āĻĄ āϜāĻžāϰāĻŽāĻŋāύ⧇āϰ āϏāϚāĻŋāĻŦ āĻšāĻŋāϏ⧇āĻŦ⧇, he was engaged in transacting things of real importance = āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻŦāĻžāĻ¸ā§āϤāĻŦ āĻ“ āϗ⧁āϰ⧁āĻ¤ā§āĻŦāĻĒā§‚āĻ°ā§āĻŖ āĻ•āĻžāϜāĻ•āĻ°ā§āĻŽā§‡ āύāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻ•ā§āϤ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ with real men and real women, = āĻŦāĻžāĻ¸ā§āϤāĻŦ āĻŽāĻžāύ⧁āĻˇâ€”āĻĒ⧁āϰ⧁āώ āĻ“ āύāĻžāϰ⧀āĻĻ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ™ā§āϗ⧇, and at that time = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϏ⧇āχ āϏāĻŽāϝāĻŧ⧇ did not much employ his thoughts = āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āϖ⧁āĻŦ āĻŦ⧇āĻļāĻŋ āĻŽāύ⧋āϝ⧋āĻ— āĻĻ⧇āύāύāĻŋ upon phantoms of gallantry. = āĻ•āĻžāĻ˛ā§āĻĒāύāĻŋāĻ• āĻĒā§āϰ⧇āĻŽ-āĻĒā§āϰāĻŖāϝāĻŧ⧇āϰ āĻ•āĻ˛ā§āĻĒāύāĻžāϝāĻŧāĨ¤

Some of his letters = āϤāĻžāϰ āĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁ āϚāĻŋāĻ āĻŋ to Mr. Bennet, = āĻŽāĻŋāĻ¸ā§āϟāĻžāϰ āĻŦ⧇āύ⧇āĻŸā§‡āϰ āĻ•āĻžāϛ⧇, afterwards Earl of Arlington, = āϝāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻĒāϰ⧇ āφāĻ°ā§āϞ āĻ…āĻŦ āφāϰāϞāĻŋāĻ‚āϟāύ āĻšāύ, from April to December in 1650, = ā§§ā§Ŧā§Ģā§Ļ āϏāĻžāϞ⧇āϰ āĻāĻĒā§āϰāĻŋāϞ āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ āĻĄāĻŋāϏ⧇āĻŽā§āĻŦāϰ āĻĒāĻ°ā§āϝāĻ¨ā§āϤ āϞ⧇āĻ–āĻž, are preserved in “Miscellanea Aulica”, = “Miscellanea Aulica” āĻ—ā§āϰāĻ¨ā§āĻĨ⧇ āϏāĻ‚āϰāĻ•ā§āώāĻŋāϤ āφāϛ⧇, a collection of papers = āϝāĻž āĻŦāĻŋāĻ­āĻŋāĻ¨ā§āύ āĻĻāϞāĻŋāϞāĻĒāĻ¤ā§āϰ⧇āϰ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āϏāĻ‚āĻ•āϞāύ, published by Brown. = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϝāĻž āĻŦā§āϰāĻžāωāύ āĻĒā§āϰāĻ•āĻžāĻļ āĻ•āϰ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύāĨ¤

These letters, = āĻāχ āϚāĻŋāĻ āĻŋāϗ⧁āϞ⧋, being written like those of other men = āĻ…āĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻŦāĻžāĻ¸ā§āϤāĻŦāĻŽā§āĻ–ā§€ āĻŽāĻžāύ⧁āώ⧇āϰ āϚāĻŋāĻ āĻŋāϰ āĻŽāϤ⧋āχ āϞ⧇āĻ–āĻž āĻšāĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻžāϝāĻŧ, whose mind is more on things than words, = āϝāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻŽāύ āĻļāĻŦā§āĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻšā§‡āϝāĻŧ⧇ āĻ•āĻžāĻœā§‡āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦ⧇āĻļāĻŋ āύāĻŋāĻŦāĻĻā§āϧ āĻĨāĻžāϕ⧇, contribute no otherwise to his reputation = āϤāĻžāϰ āĻ–ā§āϝāĻžāϤāĻŋāϤ⧇ āĻŦāĻŋāĻļ⧇āώ āϕ⧋āύ⧋ āĻ…āĻŦāĻĻāĻžāύ āϰāĻžāϖ⧇ āύāĻž, than as they shew him = āϤāĻŦ⧇ āĻāϗ⧁āϞ⧋ āĻāϟ⧁āϕ⧁ āĻĒā§āϰāĻŽāĻžāĻŖ āĻ•āϰ⧇ āϝ⧇, to have been above the affectation of unseasonable elegance, = āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻ…āĻĒā§āϰāϝāĻŧā§‹āϜāύ⧀āϝāĻŧ āĻ“ āĻ…āϏāĻŽāϝāĻŧā§‹āϚāĻŋāϤ āĻ…āϞāĻ‚āĻ•āĻžāϰāĻĒā§‚āĻ°ā§āĻŖ āĻ­āĻžāώāĻžāϰ āĻ­āĻžāύ āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ āϊāĻ°ā§āĻ§ā§āĻŦ⧇ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ, and to have known = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āϜāĻžāύāϤ⧇āύ that the business of a statesman = āϝ⧇ āĻāĻ•āϜāύ āϰāĻžāĻˇā§āĻŸā§āϰāύāĻžāϝāĻŧāϕ⧇āϰ āĻ•āĻžāϜ can be little forwarded = āϖ⧁āĻŦ āĻŦ⧇āĻļāĻŋ āĻāĻ—āĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇ āύ⧇āĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻž āϝāĻžāϝāĻŧ āύāĻž by flowers of rhetorick. = āĻ…āϞāĻ‚āĻ•āĻžāϰāĻŽāϝāĻŧ āĻŦāĻ•ā§āϤ⧃āϤāĻž āĻŦāĻž āĻ­āĻžāώāĻžāϰ āĻĢ⧁āϞāĻā§āϰāĻŋ āĻĻāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇āĨ¤

One passage, however, = āϤāĻŦ⧇ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āĻ…āĻ‚āĻļ, seems not unworthy of some notice. = āĻŦāĻŋāĻļ⧇āώāĻ­āĻžāĻŦ⧇ āϞāĻ•ā§āώ āĻ•āϰāĻžāϰ āĻŽāϤ⧋ āĻŦāϞ⧇ āĻŽāύ⧇ āĻšāϝāĻŧāĨ¤

Speaking of the Scotch treaty then in agitation: = āϤāĻ–āύ āφāϞ⧋āϚāύāĻžāϧ⧀āύ āĻ¸ā§āĻ•āϟāĻ˛ā§āϝāĻžāĻ¨ā§āĻĄā§‡āϰ āϏāĻ™ā§āϗ⧇ āϚ⧁āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋ āϏāĻŽā§āĻĒāĻ°ā§āϕ⧇ āĻŦāϞāϤ⧇ āĻ—āĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āϞāĻŋāϖ⧇āϛ⧇āĻ¨â€”

“The Scotch treaty,” says he, = āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻŦāϞ⧇āύ, “āĻ¸ā§āĻ•āϟāĻŋāĻļ āϚ⧁āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϟāĻŋāχ “is the only thing now = āĻāĻ–āύ āĻāĻ•āĻŽāĻžāĻ¤ā§āϰ āĻŦāĻŋāώāϝāĻŧ in which we are vitally concerned;” = āϝāĻžāϰ āϏāĻ™ā§āϗ⧇ āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻœā§€āĻŦāύ-āĻŽāϰāϪ⧇āϰ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāĻ°ā§āĻĨ āϜāĻĄāĻŧāĻŋāϤāĨ¤” “I am one of the last hopers,” = “āφāĻŽāĻŋ āĻļ⧇āώ āĻĒāĻ°ā§āϝāĻ¨ā§āϤ āφāĻļāĻžāĻŦāĻžāĻĻā§€āĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻāĻ•āϜāύ,” “and yet cannot now abstain from believing,” = “āϤāĻŦ⧁āĻ“ āĻāĻ–āύ āĻŦāĻŋāĻļā§āĻŦāĻžāϏ āĻ•āϰāĻž āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϕ⧇ āĻŦāĻŋāϰāϤ āϰāĻžāĻ–āϤ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāϰāĻ›āĻŋ āύāĻž,” “that an agreement will be made:” = “āϝ⧇ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āϏāĻŽāĻā§‹āϤāĻž āĻ…āĻŦāĻļā§āϝāχ āĻšāĻŦ⧇āĨ¤” “all people upon the place incline to that of union.” = “āĻāĻ–āĻžāύāĻ•āĻžāϰ āϏāĻŦāĻžāχ āϐāĻ•ā§āϝ⧇āϰ āĻĒāĻ•ā§āώ⧇āχ āĻā§āρāĻ•āϛ⧇āĨ¤” “The Scotch will moderate something of the rigour of their demands;” = “āĻ¸ā§āĻ•āϟāϰāĻž āϤāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĻāĻžāĻŦāĻŋāϰ āĻ•āĻ ā§‹āϰāϤāĻž āĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁āϟāĻž āĻļāĻŋāĻĨāĻŋāϞ āĻ•āϰāĻŦ⧇āĨ¤” “the mutual necessity of an accord is visible;” = “āωāĻ­āϝāĻŧ āĻĒāĻ•ā§āώ⧇āϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āϏāĻŽāĻā§‹āϤāĻžāϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϝāĻŧā§‹āϜāύ⧀āϝāĻŧāϤāĻž āĻ¸ā§āĻĒāĻˇā§āϟāĨ¤” “the King is persuaded of it.” = “āϰāĻžāϜāĻžāĻ“ āĻ āĻŦāĻŋāώāϝāĻŧ⧇ āύāĻŋāĻļā§āϚāĻŋāϤ āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇āϛ⧇āύāĨ¤” “And to tell you the truth” = “āφāϰ āϏāĻ¤ā§āϝāĻŋ āĻ•āĻĨāĻž āĻŦāϞāϤ⧇,” “(which I take to be an argument above all the rest),” = “(āϝāĻž āφāĻŽāĻžāϰ āĻŽāϤ⧇ āĻ…āĻ¨ā§āϝ āϏāĻŦ āϝ⧁āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϰ āĻšā§‡āϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ“ āĻļāĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāĻļāĻžāϞ⧀),” “Virgil has told the same thing to that purpose.” = “āĻ­āĻžāĻ°ā§āϜāĻŋāϞāĻ“ āĻāĻ•āχ āωāĻĻā§āĻĻ⧇āĻļā§āϝ⧇ āĻ āĻŋāĻ• āĻāχ āĻ•āĻĨāĻžāχ āĻŦāϞ⧇āϛ⧇āύāĨ¤”

main text:

This expression from a secretary of the pre-sent time would be considered as merely ludi-crous, or at most as an ostentatious display of scholarship; but the manners of that time were so tinged with superstition, that I cannot but suspect Cowley of having consulted on this great occasion the Virgilian lots, and to have given some credit to the answer of his oracle.

Some years afterwards, ‘business,’ says Sprat, ‘passed of course into other hands’; and Cowley,being no longer useful at Paris, was in 1656 sent back into England, that, ‘under pretence of privacy and retirement, he might take occasion of giving notice of the posture of things in this nation.’

Soon after his return to London, he was seized by some messengers of the usurping powers, who were sent out in quest of another man; and, being examined, was put into confinement, from which he was not dismissed without the security of a thousand pounds given by Dr. 

This year he published his poems, with a preface, in which he seems to have inserted something, suppressed in subsequent editions, which was interpreted to denote some relaxation of his loyalty. In this preface he declares, that ‘his desire had been for some days past, and did still very vehemently continue, to retire himself to some of the American plantations, and to for-sake this world forever.’

From the obloquy which the appearance of submission to the usurpers brought upon him, his biographer has been very diligent to clear him, and indeed it does not seem to have less-ened his reputation. His wish for retirement we can easily believe to be undissembled; a man har-12

assed in one kingdom and persecuted in another, who, after a course of business that employed all his days and half his nights in cyphering and de-cyphering, comes to his own country and steps into a prison, will be willing enough to retire to some place of quiet, and of safety. Yet let ‘neither our reverence for a genius, nor our pity for a suf-ferer, dispose us to forget that, if his activity was virtue, his retreat was cowardice.

He then took upon himself the character of Physician, still, according to Sprat, with intention ‘to dissemble the main design of his coming over,’ and, as Mr. Wood relates, ‘complying with the men then in power (which was much taken no-tice of by the royal party), he obtained an order to be created Doctor of Physick, which being done to his mind (whereby he gained the ill-will of some of his friends), he went into France again, having made a copy of verses on Oliver’s death.’

This is no favourable representation, yet even in this not much wrong can be discovered. How far he complied with the men in power, is to be inquired before he can be blamed. It is not said that he told them any secrets, or assisted them by intelligence, or any other act. If he only promised to be quiet, that they in whose hands he was might free him from confinement, he did what no law of society prohibits.50

The man whose miscarriage in a just cause has put him in the power of his enemy may, without any violation of his integrity, regain his liberty, or preserve his life, by a promise of neu-trality: for the stipulation gives the enemy noth-ing which he had not before; the neutrality of a captive may be always secured by his imprison-ment or death. He that is at the disposal of an-other may not promise to aid him in any injuri-ous act, because no power can compel active obedience. He may engage to do nothing, but not to do ill.

Translation in Bengali:

This expression from a secretary of the present time = āĻŦāĻ°ā§āϤāĻŽāĻžāύ āϏāĻŽāϝāĻŧ⧇āϰ āϕ⧋āύ⧋ āϏāϚāĻŋāĻŦ⧇āϰ āĻŽā§āϖ⧇ āĻāχ āϧāϰāύ⧇āϰ āĻŦāĻ•ā§āϤāĻŦā§āϝ would be considered as merely ludicrous, = āϕ⧇āĻŦāϞ āĻšāĻžāĻ¸ā§āϝāĻ•āϰ āĻŦāϞ⧇āχ āĻŦāĻŋāĻŦ⧇āϚāĻŋāϤ āĻšāϤ⧋, or at most as an ostentatious display of scholarship; = āĻ…āĻĨāĻŦāĻž āϏāĻ°ā§āĻŦā§‹āĻšā§āϚ āĻĒāĻžāĻŖā§āĻĄāĻŋāĻ¤ā§āϝ⧇āϰ āĻŦāĻžāĻšā§āĻ˛ā§āϝ āĻĒā§āϰāĻĻāĻ°ā§āĻļāύ āĻŦāϞ⧇ āĻŽāύ⧇ āĻ•āϰāĻž āĻšāϤ⧋; but the manners of that time = āĻ•āĻŋāĻ¨ā§āϤ⧁ āϏ⧇āχ āϏāĻŽāϝāĻŧ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻžāύ⧁āώ⧇āϰ āϰ⧀āϤāĻŋ-āύ⧀āϤāĻŋ were so tinged with superstition, = āϕ⧁āϏāĻ‚āĻ¸ā§āĻ•āĻžāϰ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāĻ­āĻžāĻŦ⧇ āĻāϤāϟāĻžāχ āϰāĻžā§āϜāĻŋāϤ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ, that I cannot but suspect Cowley = āϝ⧇ āφāĻŽāĻŋ āĻ•āĻžāωāϞāĻŋāϰ āϏāĻŽā§āĻĒāĻ°ā§āϕ⧇ āϏāĻ¨ā§āĻĻ⧇āĻš āύāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāϰāĻŋ āύāĻž, of having consulted on this great occasion = āĻāχ āϗ⧁āϰ⧁āĻ¤ā§āĻŦāĻĒā§‚āĻ°ā§āĻŖ āωāĻĒāϞāĻ•ā§āώ⧇ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻĒāϰāĻžāĻŽāĻ°ā§āĻļ āύāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ the Virgilian lots, = āĻ­āĻžāĻ°ā§āϜāĻŋāϞ⧇āϰ āĻ­āĻŦāĻŋāĻˇā§āϝāĻĻā§āĻŦāĻžāĻŖā§€āĻŽā§‚āϞāĻ• āϞāϟ (Virgilian lots) āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇, and to have given some credit = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁āϟāĻž āĻŦāĻŋāĻļā§āĻŦāĻžāϏāĻ“ āĻ•āϰ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ to the answer of his oracle. = āϏ⧇āχ āĻĻ⧈āĻŦāĻŦāĻžāĻŖā§€āϰ āωāĻ¤ā§āϤāϰ⧇āĨ¤

Some years afterwards, = āĻ•āϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ• āĻŦāĻ›āϰ āĻĒāϰ⧇, ‘business,’ says Sprat, = āĻ¸ā§āĻĒā§āĻ°ā§āϝāĻžāϟ āĻŦāϞ⧇āύ, “āϰāĻžāĻˇā§āĻŸā§āϰāĻ•āĻžāĻ°ā§āϝ” ‘passed of course into other hands’; = āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāĻ­āĻžāĻŦāĻŋāĻ•āĻ­āĻžāĻŦ⧇āχ āĻ…āĻ¨ā§āϝāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻšāĻžāϤ⧇ āϚāϞ⧇ āϝāĻžāϝāĻŧ; and Cowley, = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻ•āĻžāωāϞāĻŋ, being no longer useful at Paris, = āĻĒā§āϝāĻžāϰāĻŋāϏ⧇ āφāϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϝāĻŧā§‹āϜāύ⧀āϝāĻŧ āύāĻž āĻĨāĻžāĻ•āĻžāϝāĻŧ, was in 1656 sent back into England, = ā§§ā§Ŧā§Ģā§Ŧ āϏāĻžāϞ⧇ āϤāĻžāρāϕ⧇ āχāĻ‚āĻ˛ā§āϝāĻžāĻ¨ā§āĻĄā§‡ āĻĢāĻŋāϰāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāĻ āĻžāύ⧋ āĻšāϝāĻŧ, that, under pretence of privacy and retirement, = āϝāĻžāϤ⧇ āύāĻŋāĻ°ā§āϜāύāϤāĻž āĻ“ āĻ…āĻŦāϏāϰ āĻœā§€āĻŦāύ⧇āϰ āĻ…āϜ⧁āĻšāĻžāϤ⧇, he might take occasion = āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āϏ⧁āϝ⧋āĻ— āύāĻŋāϤ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāϰ⧇āύ of giving notice = āϏāĻ‚āĻŦāĻžāĻĻ āĻĒāĻžāĻ āĻžāύ⧋āϰ of the posture of things in this nation. = āĻ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āϰāĻžāϜāύ⧈āϤāĻŋāĻ• āĻ…āĻŦāĻ¸ā§āĻĨāĻžāϰ āϏāĻŽā§āĻĒāĻ°ā§āϕ⧇āĨ¤

Soon after his return to London, = āϞāĻ¨ā§āĻĄāύ⧇ āĻĢāĻŋāϰ⧇ āφāϏāĻžāϰ āĻ…āĻ˛ā§āĻĒāĻĻāĻŋāύ āĻĒāϰ, he was seized = āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻ—ā§āϰ⧇āĻĒā§āϤāĻžāϰ āĻšāύ, by some messengers of the usurping powers, = āĻ•ā§āώāĻŽāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻ–āϞāĻ•āĻžāϰ⧀ āϏāϰāĻ•āĻžāϰ⧇āϰ āĻ•āϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ•āϜāύ āĻĻā§‚āϤ⧇āϰ āĻšāĻžāϤ⧇, who were sent out = āϝāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒāĻžāĻ āĻžāύ⧋ āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ in quest of another man; = āĻ…āĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻāĻ•āϜāύāϕ⧇ āϖ⧁āρāĻœā§‡ āĻŦ⧇āϰ āĻ•āϰāĻžāϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ; and, being examined, = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϜāĻŋāĻœā§āĻžāĻžāϏāĻžāĻŦāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒāϰ, was put into confinement, = āϤāĻžāρāϕ⧇ āĻ•āĻžāϰāĻžāĻ—āĻžāϰ⧇ āĻŦāĻ¨ā§āĻĻāĻŋ āĻ•āϰāĻž āĻšāϝāĻŧ, from which he was not dismissed = āϝ⧇āĻ–āĻžāύ āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋ āĻĒāĻžāύāύāĻŋ without the security of a thousand pounds = āĻāĻ• āĻšāĻžāϜāĻžāϰ āĻĒāĻžāωāĻ¨ā§āĻĄā§‡āϰ āϜāĻžāĻŽāĻŋāύ āĻ›āĻžāĻĄāĻŧāĻž, given by Dr. —— = āϝāĻž āĻĄāĻ•ā§āϟāϰ —— āĻĒā§āϰāĻĻāĻžāύ āĻ•āϰ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύāĨ¤

This year he published his poems, = āϏ⧇āχ āĻŦāĻ›āϰ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āϤāĻžāρāϰ āĻ•āĻŦāĻŋāϤāĻžāϏāĻ‚āĻ—ā§āϰāĻš āĻĒā§āϰāĻ•āĻžāĻļ āĻ•āϰ⧇āύ, with a preface, = āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āĻ­ā§‚āĻŽāĻŋāĻ•āĻžāϏāĻš, in which he seems to have inserted something, = āϝ⧇āĻ–āĻžāύ⧇ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻāĻŽāύ āĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁ āϞāĻŋāϖ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ, suppressed in subsequent editions, = āϝāĻž āĻĒāϰāĻŦāĻ°ā§āϤ⧀ āϏāĻ‚āĻ¸ā§āĻ•āϰāĻŖāϗ⧁āϞ⧋āϤ⧇ āĻŦāĻžāĻĻ āĻĻ⧇āĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻž āĻšāϝāĻŧ, which was interpreted = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϝāĻž āĻŦā§āϝāĻžāĻ–ā§āϝāĻž āĻ•āϰāĻž āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ to denote some relaxation of his loyalty. = āϤāĻžāρāϰ āϰāĻžāϜāĻ­āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋ āĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁āϟāĻž āĻļāĻŋāĻĨāĻŋāϞ āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ›ā§‡â€”āĻāĻŽāύ āχāĻ™ā§āĻ—āĻŋāϤ āĻšāĻŋāϏ⧇āĻŦ⧇āĨ¤

In this preface he declares, = āĻāχ āĻ­ā§‚āĻŽāĻŋāĻ•āĻžāϝāĻŧ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻ˜ā§‹āώāĻŖāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇āύ, that “his desire had been = āϝ⧇ “āĻ•āϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ• āĻĻāĻŋāύ āϧāϰ⧇ āϤāĻžāρāϰ āĻĒā§āϰāĻŦāϞ āχāĻšā§āĻ›āĻž āĻ›āĻŋāϞ for some days past, = āĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁āĻĻāĻŋāύ āϝāĻžāĻŦā§Ž, and did still very vehemently continue, = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϏ⧇āχ āχāĻšā§āĻ›āĻž āϤāĻ–āύāĻ“ āĻ…āĻ¤ā§āϝāĻ¨ā§āϤ āĻĒā§āϰāĻŦāϞ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ, to retire himself = āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϕ⧇ āύāĻŋāĻ°ā§āϜāύ⧇ āϏāϰāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇ āύ⧇āĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻžāϰ, to some of the American plantations, = āφāĻŽā§‡āϰāĻŋāĻ•āĻžāϰ āϕ⧋āύ⧋ āωāĻĒāύāĻŋāĻŦ⧇āĻļ⧇, and to forsake this world forever.” = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻāχ āĻĒ⧃āĻĨāĻŋāĻŦā§€āϕ⧇ āϚāĻŋāϰāĻĻāĻŋāύ⧇āϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻ¤ā§āϝāĻžāĻ— āĻ•āϰāĻžāϰāĨ¤”

From the obloquy = āύāĻŋāĻ¨ā§āĻĻāĻž āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇, which the appearance of submission to the usurpers = āϝāĻž āĻ•ā§āώāĻŽāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻ–āϞāĻ•āĻžāϰ⧀āĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āφāύ⧁āĻ—āĻ¤ā§āϝ⧇āϰ āĻ­āĻžāύ āĻ•āϰāĻžāϰ āĻ•āĻžāϰāϪ⧇ brought upon him, = āϤāĻžāρāϰ āĻ“āĻĒāϰ āĻāϏ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ, his biographer = āϤāĻžāρāϰ āĻœā§€āĻŦāύ⧀āĻ•āĻžāϰ has been very diligent = āĻ…āĻ¤ā§āϝāĻ¨ā§āϤ āĻšā§‡āĻˇā§āϟāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇āϛ⧇āύ to clear him, = āϤāĻžāρāϕ⧇ āϏ⧇āχ āĻ…āĻ­āĻŋāϝ⧋āĻ— āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤ āĻĒā§āϰāĻŽāĻžāĻŖ āĻ•āϰāϤ⧇, and indeed = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϏāĻ¤ā§āϝāĻŋāχ, it does not seem = āĻŽāύ⧇ āĻšāϝāĻŧ āύāĻž to have lessened his reputation. = āĻāϤ⧇ āϤāĻžāρāϰ āϏ⧁āύāĻžāĻŽ āĻ•āĻŽā§‡āĻ›āĻŋāϞāĨ¤

His wish for retirement = āύāĻŋāĻ°ā§āϜāύ⧇ āĻĨāĻžāĻ•āĻžāϰ āϤāĻžāρāϰ āχāĻšā§āĻ›āĻž we can easily believe = āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āϏāĻšāĻœā§‡āχ āĻŦāĻŋāĻļā§āĻŦāĻžāϏ āĻ•āϰāϤ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāϰāĻŋ to be undissembled; = āϝ⧇ āϤāĻž āĻ›āĻŋāϞ āϏāĻŽā§āĻĒā§‚āĻ°ā§āĻŖ āφāĻ¨ā§āϤāϰāĻŋāĻ•; a man harassed in one kingdom = āĻāĻ•āϜāύ āĻŽāĻžāύ⧁āώ, āϝāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻāĻ• āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇ āύāĻŋāĻ°ā§āϝāĻžāϤāĻŋāϤ, and persecuted in another, = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻ…āĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇ āύāĻŋāĻĒā§€āĻĄāĻŧāĻŋāϤ, who, after a course of business = āϝāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻĻā§€āĻ°ā§āϘāĻĻāĻŋāύ āĻāĻŽāύ āĻ•āĻžāĻœā§‡ āύāĻŋāϝāĻŧā§‹āϜāĻŋāϤ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ that employed all his days = āϝāĻž āϤāĻžāρāϰ āϏāĻŽāĻ¸ā§āϤ āĻĻāĻŋāύ and half his nights = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻ…āĻ°ā§āϧ⧇āĻ• āϰāĻžāϤ in cyphering and decyphering, = āϏāĻžāĻ‚āϕ⧇āϤāĻŋāĻ• āĻŦāĻžāĻ°ā§āϤāĻž āϞ⧇āĻ–āĻž āĻ“ āĻ­āĻžāĻ™āĻžāϰ āĻ•āĻžāĻœā§‡ āĻŦā§āϝāϝāĻŧ āĻ•āϰ⧇āϛ⧇, comes to his own country = āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āϝāĻ–āύ āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϰ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇ āĻĢāĻŋāϰ⧇ āφāϏ⧇āύ, and steps into a prison, = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϏ⧋āϜāĻž āĻ•āĻžāϰāĻžāĻ—āĻžāϰ⧇ āĻĒā§āϰāĻŦ⧇āĻļ āĻ•āϰ⧇āύ, will be willing enough = āϤāĻ–āύ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻ…āĻŦāĻļā§āϝāχ āφāĻ—ā§āϰāĻšā§€ āĻšāĻŦ⧇āύ to retire to some place = āϕ⧋āύ⧋ āύāĻŋāϰāĻŋāĻŦāĻŋāϞāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻĨāĻžāύ⧇ āϚāϞ⧇ āϝ⧇āϤ⧇, of quiet, = āϝ⧇āĻ–āĻžāύ⧇ āĻļāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤāĻŋ āφāϛ⧇, and of safety. = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āύāĻŋāϰāĻžāĻĒāĻ¤ā§āϤāĻž āφāϛ⧇āĨ¤

Yet let neither our reverence for a genius, = āϤāĻŦ⧁ āϕ⧋āύ⧋ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋāĻ­āĻžāĻŦāĻžāύ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻž nor our pity for a sufferer, = āĻ•āĻŋāĻ‚āĻŦāĻž āĻāĻ•āϜāύ āĻĻ⧁āĻ°ā§āĻ­ā§‹āĻ—āĻ­ā§‹āĻ—ā§€āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āϏāĻšāĻžāύ⧁āĻ­ā§‚āϤāĻŋ dispose us to forget = āϝ⧇āύ āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āϭ⧁āϞāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇ āύāĻž āĻĻ⧇āϝāĻŧ that, if his activity was virtue, = āϝ⧇, āϤāĻžāρāϰ āĻ•āĻ°ā§āĻŽāĻ¤ā§ŽāĻĒāϰāϤāĻž āϝāĻĻāĻŋ āϗ⧁āĻŖ āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇ āĻĨāĻžāϕ⧇, his retreat was cowardice. = āϤāĻŦ⧇ āϤāĻžāρāϰ āĻĒāϞāĻžāϝāĻŧāύ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ āĻ•āĻžāĻĒ⧁āϰ⧁āώāϤāĻžāĨ¤

He then took upon himself the character of Physician, = āĻāϰāĻĒāϰ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āϚāĻŋāĻ•āĻŋā§ŽāϏāϕ⧇āϰ āĻĒāϰāĻŋāϚāϝāĻŧ āĻ—ā§āϰāĻšāĻŖ āĻ•āϰ⧇āύ, still, according to Sprat, = āĻ¸ā§āĻĒā§āĻ°ā§āϝāĻžāĻŸā§‡āϰ āĻŽāϤ⧇, āϤāĻ–āύāĻ“ with intention = āĻāχ āωāĻĻā§āĻĻ⧇āĻļā§āϝ⧇ ‘to dissemble the main design of his coming over,’ = “āχāĻ‚āĻ˛ā§āϝāĻžāĻ¨ā§āĻĄā§‡ āφāϏāĻžāϰ āĻĒā§āϰāĻ•ā§ƒāϤ āωāĻĻā§āĻĻ⧇āĻļā§āϝ āĻ—ā§‹āĻĒāύ āϰāĻžāĻ–āĻžāϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ”, and, as Mr. Wood relates, = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻŽāĻŋ. āωāĻĄā§‡āϰ āĻŦāĻ°ā§āĻŖāύāĻžāĻŽāϤ⧇, complying with the men then in power = āϤāĻ–āύāĻ•āĻžāϰ āĻ•ā§āώāĻŽāϤāĻžāϏ⧀āύāĻĻ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ™ā§āϗ⧇ āϏāĻŽāĻā§‹āϤāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇ (which was much taken notice of by the royal party), = (āϝāĻž āϰāĻžāϜāĻĒāĻ¨ā§āĻĨā§€āĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĻ⧃āĻˇā§āϟāĻŋāϤ⧇ āϖ⧁āĻŦāχ āϞāĻ•ā§āώāĻŖā§€āϝāĻŧ āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ), he obtained an order = āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āφāĻĻ⧇āĻļ āϞāĻžāĻ­ āĻ•āϰ⧇āύ to be created Doctor of Physick, = āϚāĻŋāĻ•āĻŋā§ŽāϏāĻžāĻŦāĻŋāĻĻā§āϝāĻžāϝāĻŧ āĻĄāĻ•ā§āϟāϰ āωāĻĒāĻžāϧāĻŋ āĻĒāĻžāĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻžāϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ, which being done to his mind, = āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϤāĻž āϤāĻžāρāϰ āχāĻšā§āĻ›āĻžāĻŽāϤ⧋ āϏāĻŽā§āĻĒāĻ¨ā§āύ āĻšāϞ⧇, (whereby he gained the ill-will of some of his friends), = (āĻĢāϞ⧇ āϤāĻžāρāϰ āĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁ āĻŦāĻ¨ā§āϧ⧁ āϤāĻžāρāϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāϰ⧂āĻĒ āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇ āĻ“āϠ⧇āύ), he went into France again, = āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āφāĻŦāĻžāϰ āĻĢā§āϰāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϏ⧇ āĻĢāĻŋāϰ⧇ āϝāĻžāύ, having made a copy of verses = āĻāϰ āφāϗ⧇ āĻ…āϞāĻŋāĻ­āĻžāϰ⧇āϰ āĻŽā§ƒāĻ¤ā§āϝ⧁āϕ⧇ āϕ⧇āĻ¨ā§āĻĻā§āϰ āĻ•āϰ⧇ on Oliver’s death. = āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āĻ•āĻŦāĻŋāϤāĻž āϰāϚāύāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇āĨ¤

This is no favourable representation, = āĻāϟāĻŋ āϤāĻžāρāϰ āĻĒāĻ•ā§āώ⧇ āĻ…āύ⧁āϕ⧂āϞ āĻŦāĻ°ā§āĻŖāύāĻž āύāϝāĻŧ, yet even in this = āϤāĻŦ⧁āĻ“ āĻāϰ āĻŽāĻ§ā§āϝ⧇āĻ“ not much wrong can be discovered. = āϖ⧁āĻŦ āĻŦ⧇āĻļāĻŋ āĻĻā§‹āώ āϖ⧁āρāĻœā§‡ āĻĒāĻžāĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻž āϝāĻžāϝāĻŧ āύāĻžāĨ¤

How far he complied with the men in power, = āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻ•ā§āώāĻŽāϤāĻžāϏ⧀āύāĻĻ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ™ā§āϗ⧇ āĻ•āϤāĻ–āĻžāύāĻŋ āϏāĻŽāĻā§‹āϤāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ, is to be inquired = āϤāĻž āφāϗ⧇ āϤāĻĻāĻ¨ā§āϤ āĻ•āϰāĻž āωāϚāĻŋāϤ, before he can be blamed. = āϤāĻžāϰāĻĒāϰāχ āϤāĻžāρāϕ⧇ āĻĻā§‹āώāĻžāϰ⧋āĻĒ āĻ•āϰāĻž āωāϚāĻŋāϤāĨ¤

It is not said = āϕ⧋āĻĨāĻžāĻ“ āĻŦāϞāĻž āĻšāϝāĻŧāύāĻŋ that he told them any secrets, = āϝ⧇ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āϤāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āϕ⧋āύ⧋ āĻ—ā§‹āĻĒāύ āϤāĻĨā§āϝ āĻĻāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ, or assisted them by intelligence, = āĻ…āĻĨāĻŦāĻž āϗ⧁āĻĒā§āϤāϏāĻ‚āĻŦāĻžāĻĻ āĻĻāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇ āϏāĻžāĻšāĻžāĻ¯ā§āϝ āĻ•āϰ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ, or any other act. = āĻ•āĻŋāĻ‚āĻŦāĻž āĻ…āĻ¨ā§āϝ āϕ⧋āύ⧋āĻ­āĻžāĻŦ⧇ āϏāĻšāϝ⧋āĻ—āĻŋāϤāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύāĨ¤

If he only promised to be quiet, = āϝāĻĻāĻŋ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻļ⧁āϧ⧁ āĻļāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤ āĻĨāĻžāĻ•āĻžāϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋāĻļā§āϰ⧁āϤāĻŋ āĻĻāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇ āĻĨāĻžāϕ⧇āύ, that they in whose hands he was = āϝāĻžāϤ⧇ āϝāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻšāĻžāϤ⧇ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻŦāĻ¨ā§āĻĻāĻŋ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ, might free him from confinement, = āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āϤāĻžāρāϕ⧇ āĻ•āĻžāϰāĻžāĻ—āĻžāϰ āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋ āĻĻ⧇āϝāĻŧ, he did what no law of society prohibits. = āϤāĻŦ⧇ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻāĻŽāύ āĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁ āĻ•āϰ⧇āύāύāĻŋ āϝāĻž āϏāĻŽāĻžāĻœā§‡āϰ āϕ⧋āύ⧋ āύ⧀āϤāĻŋ āύāĻŋāώāĻŋāĻĻā§āϧ āĻ•āϰ⧇āĨ¤

The man whose miscarriage in a just cause = āϝ⧇ āĻŦā§āϝāĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋ āĻ¨ā§āϝāĻžāϝāĻŧāϏāĻ™ā§āĻ—āϤ āωāĻĻā§āĻĻ⧇āĻļā§āϝ⧇ āĻŦā§āϝāĻ°ā§āĻĨ āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇ has put him in the power of his enemy = āĻļāĻ¤ā§āϰ⧁āϰ āĻ•ā§āώāĻŽāϤāĻžāϰ āĻ…āϧ⧀āύ⧇ āĻĒāĻĄāĻŧ⧇āϛ⧇, may, without any violation of his integrity, = āϏ⧇ āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϰ āϏāϤāϤāĻž āύāĻˇā§āϟ āύāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇āχ regain his liberty, = āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϰ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĢāĻŋāϰ⧇ āĻĒ⧇āϤ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāϰ⧇, or preserve his life, = āĻ…āĻĨāĻŦāĻž āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āϰ āĻœā§€āĻŦāύ āϰāĻ•ā§āώāĻž āĻ•āϰāϤ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāϰ⧇, by a promise of neutrality: = āύāĻŋāϰāĻĒ⧇āĻ•ā§āώ āĻĨāĻžāĻ•āĻžāϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋāĻļā§āϰ⧁āϤāĻŋ āĻĻāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇āĨ¤ for the stipulation gives the enemy nothing = āĻ•āĻžāϰāĻŖ āĻāχ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋāĻļā§āϰ⧁āϤāĻŋāϤ⧇ āĻļāĻ¤ā§āϰ⧁ āύāϤ⧁āύ āĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁āχ āĻĒāĻžāϝāĻŧ āύāĻž, which he had not before; = āϝāĻž āϤāĻžāϰ āφāϗ⧇ āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇āχ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ āύāĻž; the neutrality of a captive = āĻāĻ•āϜāύ āĻŦāĻ¨ā§āĻĻāĻŋāϰ āύāĻŋāϰāĻĒ⧇āĻ•ā§āώāϤāĻž may be always secured = āϏāĻŦāϏāĻŽāϝāĻŧ āύāĻŋāĻļā§āϚāĻŋāϤ āĻ•āϰāĻž āϝāĻžāϝāĻŧ by his imprisonment or death. = āϤāĻžāϕ⧇ āĻŦāĻ¨ā§āĻĻāĻŋ āϰāĻžāĻ–āĻž āĻŦāĻž āĻšāĻ¤ā§āϝāĻž āĻ•āϰāĻžāϰ āĻŽāĻžāĻ§ā§āϝāĻŽā§‡āχāĨ¤

He that is at the disposal of another = āϝ⧇ āĻ…āĻ¨ā§āϝ⧇āϰ āύāĻŋāϝāĻŧāĻ¨ā§āĻ¤ā§āϰāϪ⧇ āϰāϝāĻŧ⧇āϛ⧇, may not promise = āϏ⧇ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋāĻļā§āϰ⧁āϤāĻŋ āĻĻāĻŋāϤ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāϰ⧇ āύāĻž to aid him in any injurious act, = āϕ⧋āύ⧋ āĻ…āĻ¨ā§āϝāĻžāϝāĻŧ āĻ•āĻžāĻœā§‡ āϤāĻžāϕ⧇ āϏāĻžāĻšāĻžāĻ¯ā§āϝ āĻ•āϰāĻžāϰ, because no power can compel active obedience. = āĻ•āĻžāϰāĻŖ āϕ⧋āύ⧋ āĻ•ā§āώāĻŽāϤāĻžāχ āĻ•āĻžāωāϕ⧇ āϏāĻ•ā§āϰāĻŋāϝāĻŧ āĻ…āĻ¨ā§āϝāĻžāϝāĻŧ āĻ•āϰāϤ⧇ āĻŦāĻžāĻ§ā§āϝ āĻ•āϰāϤ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāϰ⧇ āύāĻžāĨ¤ He may engage to do nothing, = āϏ⧇ āύāĻŋāĻˇā§āĻ•ā§āϰāĻŋāϝāĻŧ āĻĨāĻžāĻ•āĻžāϰ āĻ…āĻ™ā§āĻ—ā§€āĻ•āĻžāϰ āĻ•āϰāϤ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāϰ⧇, but not to do ill. = āĻ•āĻŋāĻ¨ā§āϤ⧁ āĻ…āĻ¨ā§āϝāĻžāϝāĻŧ āĻ•āϰāĻžāϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋāĻļā§āϰ⧁āϤāĻŋ āĻĻāĻŋāϤ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāϰ⧇ āύāĻžāĨ¤

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