When I was discharged I went home to my wife, There in comfort to spend all the rest of my life. My wife was industrious, we earn'd what we spent, And tho' little we had, were with little content; And whenever I listen'd and heard the wind roar, I bless'd God for my little snug cabin on shore. At midnight they seiz'd me, they dragg'd me away, They wounded me sore when I would not obey, And because for my country I'd ventur'd my life, I was dragg'd like a thief from my home and my wife. Then the fair wind of Fortune chopp'd round in my face And Want at length drove me to guilt and disgrace-- But all's for the best;--on the world's wide sea cast, I am haven'd in peace in this corner at last. SAMUEL: Come Dick! we have done--and for judgment we call. RICHARD: And in faith I can give ye no judgment at all. I've been listening to all the hard labours you've past And think in plain troth, you're two blockheads at last. My lads where the Deuce was the wit which God gave ye When you sold yourselves first to the army or navy? By land and by sea hunting dangers to roam, When you might have been hang'd so much easier at home! But you're now snug and settled and safe from foul weather, So drink up your grog and be merry together. FREDERIC. (Time Night. Scene the woods.) Where shall I turn me? whither shall I bend My weary way? thus worn with toil and faint How thro' the thorny mazes of this wood Attain my distant dwelling? that deep cry That rings along the forest seems to sound My parting knell: it is the midnight howl Of hungry monsters prowling for their prey! Again! oh save me--save me gracious Heaven! I am not fit to die! Thou coward wretch Why heaves thy trembling heart? why shake thy limbs Beneath their palsied burden? is there ought So lovely in existence? would'st thou drain Even to its dregs the bitter draught of life? Dash down the loathly bowl! poor outcast slave Stamp'd with the brand of Vice and Infamy Why should the villain Frederic shrink from Death? Death! where the magic in that empty name That chills my inmost heart? why at the thought Starts the cold dew of fear on every limb? There are no terrors to surround the Grave, When the calm Mind collected in itself Surveys that narrow house: the ghastly train That haunt the midnight of delirious Guilt Then vanish; in that home of endless rest All sorrows cease.--Would I might slumber there!