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hate because it adores thee! May all its neighbors, conspiring together, be able to sap its foundations! And if Italy be not sufficient, may the East ally itself with the West against her! May a hundred nations from all ends of the universe press on to level her hills and walls! let her hurl her walls on her own head, and tear out her entrails with her own hands; let the wrath of Heaven, called down by my prayers, rain upon her a deluge of fires! May I, with these eyes of mine, see this thunderbolt fall, see her houses in ashes, and laurels in the dust! see the last Roman heave his last sigh.

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Curse of Kehama.


I charm thy life

From the weapons of strife,
From stone and from wood,
From fire and from flood,
From the serpent's tooth,

And the beasts of blood.
From sickness I charm thee,
And time shall not harm thee;

But earth, which is mine,

Her fruits shall deny thee.

And the winds shall not touch thee
When they pass by thee,
And the dews shall not wet thee

When they fall nigh thee;

And thou shalt seek death

To release thee in vain.
Thou shalt live in thy pain
While Kehama shall reign,

With a fire in thy heart

And a fire in thy brain;

And sleep shall obey me,

And visit thee never,

And the curse shall be on thee

For ever and ever!

Duchess of York to Richard III.


Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance,
Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror,
Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish
And never look upon thy face again.
Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse;
Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more
Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st!
My prayers on the adverse party fight;
And there the little souls of Edward's children
Whisper the spirits of thine enemies,

And promise them success and victory.
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end;

Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend.

-Richard III, iv., 4.


(See Tone Drill No. 52.)

[The tone of Confusion implies a checking or stoppage of the flow of utterance. Either the mind has ceased to think continuously or the speaker is trying to repress his real thoughts.]

An Orator's First Speech in Parliament.


The pillar of "ten-pounders" rises now, and towards the Speaker makes profoundest bow. Unused to so much honour, his weak knees bend with the weight of senate-dignities. He staggers-almost falls-stares-strokes his chin-clears out

his throat, and ventures to begin. "Sir, I am sensible"(some titter near him)-"I am, Sir, sensible"-"Hear! hear!" (they cheer him.) Now bolder grown, for praise mistaking pother, teapots one arm, and spouts out with the other. "I am, Sir, sensible-I am, indeed-that, though-I shouldwant-words-I must proceed; and, for the first time in my life I think I think-that-no great orator-should shrink: —and, therefore,—Mr. Speaker-I for one—will speak out freely. Sir-I've not yet done. Sir, in the name of those enlightened men who sent me here to-speak for themwhy, then, to do my duty-as I said before-to my constituency-I'LL SAY NO MORE."


(See Tone Drill No. 105.)

[Gasping indicates a struggle for breath.

This spasmodic tone

may be caused by overexertion or by a great mental shock or by a physical injury.]



Let me lie down

Just here, in the shade of this cannon-torn tree,
Here, low on the trampled grass, where I may see
The surge of the combat, and where I may hear
The glad cry of victory, cheer upon cheer:

Let me lie down.

Dying at last!

My mother, dear mother! with meek tearful eye,
Farewell! and God bless you, for ever and aye!
O that I now lay on your pillowing breast,
To breathe my last sigh on the bosom first prest!
Dying at last!

Great Heaven! this bullet-hole gapes like a grave;
A curse on the aim of the traitorous knave!
Is there never a one of you knows how to pray,
Or speak for a man as his life ebbs away?
Pray! Pray!.

Our Father! our Father! why don't you proceed?
Can't you see I am dying? Great God, how I bleed!
Ebbing away!

Ebbing away! The light of the day is turning to gray.

I am dying; bend down, till I touch you once more;
Don't forget me, old fellow: God prosper this war!


(See Tone Drill No. 140.)

[Moaning manifests mental or physical pain, with exhaustion. It is agony in its weaker states. Sometimes there is unconsciousness.]


Lady Macbeth in Her Sleep.


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Yet here's a spot. Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two why, then 'tis time do do 't. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? What, will these hands ne'er be clean? No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting. Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh! . . Wash your hands; put on your nightgown; look not so pale: I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out on 's grave. To bed, to bed;

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there's knocking at the gate: come, come, come, come, give me your hand: what's done cannot be undone: to bed, to bed, to bed.-Macbeth, v., 1.


(See Tone Drill No. 207.)

[The tone of Uproar manifests great perturbation, commotion or turmoil. It is akin to Excitement.]

The War in Heaven.


Immediate in a flame

But soon obscured with smoke, all Heaven appeared,
From those deep-throated engines belched, whose roar
Embowelled with outrageous noise the air,
And all their entrails tore, disgorging foul

Their devilish glut, chained thunderbolts and hail
Of iron globes; which, on the victor host
Levelled, with such impetuous fury smote

That whom they hit none on their feet might stand,
Though standing else as rocks, but down they fell
By thousands, Angel on Archangel rolled.

But they stood not long;

Rage prompted them at length, and found them arms
Against such hellish mischief fit to oppose.
Forthwith-behold the excellence, the power,
Which God hath in his mighty Angels placed!-
Their arms away they threw, and to the hills
-For Earth hath this variety from Heaven
Of pleasure situate in hill and dale—

Light as the lightning-glimpse, they ran, they flew;
From their foundations loosening to and fro
They plucked the seated hills, with all their load,
Rocks, waters, woods, and by their shaggy tops

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