THE GERMAN PLAY AT VENICE. 53^ 



true, we can bear a pretty deal. Hunger and thirft $ 

 heat and cold ; dangers of war and of travelling ; there 

 is one thing, which, though it forms the delight of 

 fome effeminate nations, is what we cannot endure ; 

 — a life without employment. — Though the night 

 were as long again; though lleep never fo forcibly 

 weighs down my eyelids ; let me but have fomething 

 to do, and I willingly keep awake. — But how ihall 

 I find employment now ? Is not here light ? Have I 

 not a book about me ? In good truth, the place is not 

 the moft commodious ; yet of what confequence is 

 that? 



On pronouncing thefe laft words he drew a book out 

 of his pocket, placed himfelf under the nearer!: lan- 

 tern, and began to read. — Scarcely had he read a few 

 lines, when another being, from one of the crofs 

 fireets, drew upon him the attention of the fpedtators. 

 It was a long, white, as it were airy human figure, 

 who carefully furveyed the German on all lides, but 

 ftill more carefully avoided being feen by him ; and, at 

 length, on feeing him fo intenfely employed in his 

 reading, came up to him, from behind, fo clofe as to 

 look over his Ihoulder into the book, and fhewed his 

 aftonifhment by miens and geftures. 



The German on his part, foon found that reading 

 was an employment not eafily profecuted under the 

 open Iky, in fo fultry a night, and after the hardfhips of 

 a long journey ; his eyes were conltantly growing more 

 heavy, and he reluctantly put up his book in his 

 pocket. 



Js it then fq very late ? May I not hope to find fome 



fcody 



