ich we know that the hand of death is about to put an
end.

The prince, whose views were extended to a wider space, could not
speedily quiet his emotions. He had been before terrified at the length
of life which nature promised him, because he considered, that in a long
time much must be endured; he now rejoiced in his youth, because in many
years much might be done.

This first beam of hope, that had been ever darted into his mind,
rekindled youth in his cheeks, and doubled the lustre of his eyes. He
was fired with the desire of doing something, though he knew not yet,
with distinctness, either end or means.

He was now no longer gloomy and unsocial; but, considering himself as
master of a secret stock of happiness, which he could enjoy only by
concealing it, he affected to be busy in all schemes of diversion, and
endeavoured to make others pleased with the state, of which he himself
was weary. But pleasures never can be so multiplied or continued, as not
to leave much of life unemployed; there were many hours, both of the
night and day, which he could spend, without suspicion, in solitary
thought. The load of life was much lightened: he went eagerly into the
assemblies, because he supposed the frequency of his presence necessary
to the success of his purposes; he retired gladly to privacy, because he
had now a subject of thought.

His chief amusement was to picture to himself that world which he had
never seen; to place himself in various conditions; to be entangled in
imaginary difficulties, and to be engaged in wild adventures: but his
benevolence always terminated his projects in the relief of distress,
the detection of fraud, the defeat of oppression, and the diffusion of
happiness.

Thus passed twenty months of the life of Rasselas. He busied himself so
intensely in visionary bustle, that he forgot his real solitude, and,
amidst hourly preparations for the various incidents of human affairs,
neglected to consider, by what means he should mingle with mankind.

One day, as he was sitting on a bank, he feigned to himself an orphan
virgin, robbed of her little portion by a treacherous lover, and crying
after him, for restitution and redress. So strongly was the image
impressed upon his mind, that he started up in the maid's defence, and
ran forward to seize the plunderer, with all the eagerness of real
pursuit. Fear naturally quickens the flight of guilt: Rasselas could not
catch the fugitive with his utmost e