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assured that Morus was not the writer કેંદ્ર Regii sanguinis Clamor:" but Milt certain that Morus was the publisher work and the writer of the dedication. ton knew, also, that the name of Mor higher in the literary world than that Moulin; and, regarding them both as parties in a bond, he conceived himsel justified in calling upon the most respo of the two for the payment of his With respect to punishment, he wou averse from inflicting on his adversar other than the brand of the pen; and certainly be more inclined to conceal a noxious writer than to expose him t law. Du Moulin's triumph on his es to whatever cause he might be indebte it, was certainly not inconsiderable, a passage inserted in the note will suffici demonstrate."

"This exposed Du Moulin to great danger, he being England; but he informs us, that Milton being unwil own himself guilty of a mistake in his charge upon Mor sisted in his accusation; so that the parliament-party true author escape with impunity, lest they should public. tradict the patron of their cause. "At Morus, tantæ i impar, in regiâ causâ frigere cœpit, & Clamoris authorer tono indicavit. Enimvero in suâ ad Miltoni maledicta r sione, duos adhibuit testes præcipuæ apud perduelles fid authorem probè nossent, & rogati possent revelare. Und mihi & capiti meo certissimum impendebat exitium

Having taken a general view of this con troversy, in which Milton's last production are as distinguishable, as his former ones, fo spirit, vigour, and acuteness, it will be prope for us to return to his "Second Defence; of which our notices have not yet been am ple in proportion to its demands. It is in deed filled with such interesting matter, tha our readers would have cause to censure u if we were to pass over it with only commo attention. From those parts of it, which re late immediately to the author, we have mor

magnus ille justitiæ vindex, cui & hanc operam & hoc capu libens devoveram, per Miltoni superbiam salutem meam asse ruit, ut ejus, sapientiæ solenne est ex malis bona, ex tenebr lucem elicere. Miltonus enim, qui plenis canina eloquenti velis in Morum invectus fuerat, quique id fermè unicum D fensionis secundæ suæ fecerat argumentum, ut Mori vita atque famam laceraret, adduci nunquam potuit, ut se tam cras hallucinatum esse fateretur. Scilicet metuens ne cæcitati ej populus illuderet, eumque compararent grammaticorum pue Catullo illi cæco apud Juvenalem, qui piscem Domitiano don tum laudaturus,

plurima dixit

In lævum conversus, at illi dextra jacebat
Bellua,

Perseverante igitur Miltono totum illud periculosi in Rege
amoris crimen Moro impingere, non poterant cæteri perduell
sine magnâ boni patroni sui injuriâ alium à Moro tanti crimi
reum peragere. Cumque Miltonus me salvum esse mallet qua
se ridiculum, hoc operæ meæ præmium tuli, ut Miltonum, qu
inclementius acceperam, haberem patron
dulum ὑπερασπιστήν." Birch's Life

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than once had occasion to insert extracts in our page, and of this portion of the work we shall now content ourselves with transcribing that passage which replies to the reproaches of his antagonist on his blindness and the pretended deformity of his person.

Veniamus nunc ad mea crimina: estne quod in vitâ aut moribus reprehendat? Certè nihil: Quid ergo? Quod nemo nisi immanis ac barbarus fecisset, formam mihi ac cæcie. tatem objectat.

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Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum. Nunquam existimabam equidem fore, ut de formâ cum Cyclope certamen mihi esset; verùm statim se revocat. 66 Quanquam nec ingens, quo nihil est exilius, exsanguius contractius." Tametsi virum nihil attinet de formâ dicere, tandem quando hic quoque est, unde gratias Deo agam, et mendaces r darguam, nè quis (quod Hispanorum vulgus de hæreticis, quos vocant, plus nimi sa dotibus suis credulum opinatur) me for cynocephalum quempiam, aut rhinoceros esse putet, dic

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mis quidema odo me vadit :

is néene, mi

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can fasten? Certainly nothing. What then is his conduct? That of which no one but a savage and a barbarian could be guilty,he reproaches me with my form and my blindness. In his page I am-" A monster horrid, hideous, huge, and blind." I never, indeed, imagined that, with respect to person, there would be instituted any competition between me and a cyclops. But my accuser immediately corrects himself: "So far, however, is he from huge, that a more meagre, bloodless, diminutive animal can no where be seen.” Although it be idle for a man to speak of his own form, yet since, even in this particular instance, I have cause of thankfulness to God and the power of confuting the falsehoods of my adversary, I will not be silent on the subject, lest any person should deem me, as the credulous populace of Spain are induced by their priests to believe those whom they call heretics, to be a kind of rhinoceros or a monster with a dog's head. By any man, indeed, who has ever seen me, I have never, to the best of my knowledge, been considered as deformed-whether as handsome or not forms a less object of my concern. My stature, I confess not to be lofty; but it approaches more to the middle height than to the low. If it were, however,

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even low, I should in this respect only be confounded with many who have eminently distinguished themselves in peace and in war; and I know not why that human body JE should be called little which is sufficiently large for all the purposes of human usefulness and perfection. When my age and the habits of my life would permit, I accustomed myself to the daily exercise of the sword, and was not either so puny in body or so deficient in courage as not to think myself, with that weapon which I generally wore, to be secure in the assault of any man, hand to hand, how superior soever he might be to me in muscular strength. The spirit and the power, which I then possessed, continue unimpaired to the present day; my eyes only are not the same; and they are as unblemished in appearance, as lucid and free from spot, as those which are endued with the sharpest vision: in this instance alone, and much against my own inclination, am I a deceiver. My face, than which, as he says, nothing is more bloodless, still retains, at the age of more than forty, a colour the very reverse of pale, and such as induces almost every one, who sees me, to consider me as ten years younger than I am: neither is my şkin wrinkled, nor my body in any way

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