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Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, Must sigh to think he still has found The warmest welcome at an inn. As they drove along rapidly in the post-chaise, he exclaimed, "Life has not many better things than this."
FIRST CUIRASSIER. The soldier his worth must understand; Whoe'er doesn't nobly drive the trade, 'Twere best from the business far he'd stayed. If I cheerily set my life on a throw, Something still better than life I'll know; Or I'll stand to be slain for the paltry pelf, As the Croat still does and scorn myself.
For fear of compromising other pragmatists, whoe'er they be, I will speak of the conception which I am trying to make intelligible, as my own conception. I first published it in the year 1885, in the first article reprinted in the present book.
Whoe'er has travelled life's dull road, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found The warmest welcome at an inn. Fynes Morrison tells of the comforts of English inns even as early as the beginning of the seventeenth century. In 1617 he wrote:
'Whoe'er he be, he bears a mounting mind, and beginning in the lowness of the actual, and collecting the principles that are in all actualities, the true forms that are forms in nature, and not in man's speech only, the new IDEAS of the New Academy, the ideas that are powers, with these 'simples' that are causes, he will reconstruct fortuitous conjunctions, he will make his poems in facts; he will find his Fairy Land in her kingdom whose iron chain he wears.
At every turn a marble statue, life-sized, met the eye: here the sylvan god Pan, with rustic pipes in hand here the huntress Diana, with drawn bow here the amorous god Cupid, upon a beautiful pedestal on which was sculptured these lines, said to have been once written by Voltaire under a statue of the heathen divinity: 'Whoe'er thou art, thy master see; He was, or is, or is to be.
Now indeed did Sir Pertolepe stare upon my Beltane in amaze and spake no word for wonder; then, of a sudden he laughed, scornful and loud. "Ho! thou burner of gibbets!" quoth he, "take heed lest thy windy boasting bring thy lordly neck within a noose! Art lusty of arm, yet lustier of tongue and as to thy father, whoe'er he be " "Messire?"
Neptune for this oft binds me fast To rocks below, with coral chain, Till all the tempest's over-past, And drowning seamen cry in vain. Whoe'er ye are that love my lay, Come, when red sun-set tints the wave, To the still sands, where fairies play; There, in cool seas, I love to lave.
But it sank, and was gone for ever; and he staggered to and fro, tearing his hair, and cursed them and the ship, and the sea, and all the powers of heaven and hell alike. And now the captain cried out: "See, there is a church in sight. Steer for that church, mate, and you, friends, pray to the saint, whoe'er he be." So they steered for the church and prayed to the unknown god it was named after.
'As delighting To thee in reading, as to me in writing. Hackney, August 22, 1849 Whoe'er thou art that shall peruse this book, This may inform thee, when I undertook To write these lines, it was not my design To publish this imperfect work of mine: Composed only for diversion's sake.
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