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"'When one man's crimes the wrath of Heaven provoke, Oft hath a nation felt the fatal stroke. Contagion's blast destroys at Jove's command, And wasteful famine desolates the land. Or, in the field of war, her boasted powers Are lost, and earth receives her prostrate towers. In vain in gorgeous state her navies ride, Dashed, wrecked, and buried in the boist'rous tide.
SON. Father, I fear it will come to harm, So let us be off from this soldier swarm; But boist'rous mates will ye find in the shoal 'Twere better to bolt while our skins are whole. FATHER. How now, boy! the fellows wont eat us, though They may be a little unruly, or so.
"Oh heaven! that there were but a mote in yours, A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair, Any annoyance in that precious sense! Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous there, Your vile intent must needs seem horrible." What ought to be done in a case of choking?
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