Judge, O you gods, how dearly Cæsar lov'd him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all:

For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart;
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,

Even at the base of Pompey's statue,

Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.

O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!

Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.
O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel
The dint of pity: these are gracious drops.
Kind souls, what weep you, when you but behold
Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look you here,
Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.
1 Cit. O piteous spectacle!

2 Cit. O noble Cæsar!

3 Cit. O woeful day!
4 Cit. O traitors, villains!

1 Cit. O most bloody sight!

Cits. We will be revenged: revenge; about,-seek, -burn,-fire,-kill,-slay!-let not a traitor live. Ant. Stay, countrymen.

I Cit. Peace there:-Hear the noble Antony.

2 Cit. We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him.

Ant. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir

you up

To such a sudden flood of mutiny.

They that have done this deed are honourable;

What private griefs they have, alas! I know not,

That made them do it; they are wise and honourable,

And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts;
I am no orator, as Brutus is;

But as you know me all, a plain, blunt man,
That love my friend; and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him.

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;

I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor dumb

mouths,

And bid them speak for me: But were I Brutus,

And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

SCENE FROM "THE HUNCHBACK"

BY JAMES SHEeridan Knowles.

MASTER WALTER. CLIFFORD.

Master Walter. I'll follow him!

Why do you hold me? 'Tis not courteous of you!
Think'st thou I fear them? Fear! I rate them but
As dust! dross! offals! Let me at them!-Nay,
Call you this kind? then kindness know I not;
Nor do I thank you for 't! Let go, I say!

Sir Thos. Clifford. Nay, Master Walter, they're not worth your wrath!

Wal. How know you me for Master Walter? By
My hunchback, eh ?-my stilts of legs and arms,
The fashion more of ape's than man's? Aha!
So you have heard them, too-their savage gibes,
As I pass on,-"There goes my lord!" Aha!
God made me, sir, as well as them and you!
'Sdeath! I demand of you, unhand me, sir!
Clif. There, sir, you're free to follow them! Go forth,
And I'll go too; so on your
wilfulness
Shall fall whate'er of evil may ensue.

Is't fit you waste your choler on a burr?
The nothings of the town; whose sport it is
To break their villain jests on worthy men,
The worthier the fitter! fie for shame!
Regard what such would say? So would not I,
No more than heed a cur.

Wal. You're right, sir; right.

For twenty crowns!—so there's my rapier up!
You've done me a good turn against my will;
Which, like a wayward child, whose pet is off,
That made him restive under wholesome check,
I now right humbly own, and thank you for.

Clif. No thanks, good Master Walter, owe you me. I'm glad to know you, sir.

Wal. I pray you, now.

How did you learn my name? Guess'd I not right? Was 't not my comely hunch that taught it you? Clif. I own it.

Wal. Right, I know it; you tell truth.

I like you for 't.

Clif. But when I heard it said

That Master Walter was a worthy man,

Whose word would pass on 'change soon as his

bond;

A liberal man-for schemes of public good

That sets down tens, where others units write;
A charitable man-the good he does,

That's told of, not the half-I never more
Could see the hunch on Master Walter's back!
Wal. You would not flatter

Clif. Indeed, I flatter not!

Wal. I like your face

poor citizen?

A frank and honest one! Your frame 's well knit,
Proportion'd, shaped!

Clif. Good sir!

Wal. Your name is Clifford ?—

Sir Thomas Clifford. Humph! You're not the heir
Direct to the fair baronetcy? He

That was, was drown'd abroad. Am I not right?
Your cousin, was 't not?-so succeeded you

To rank and wealth your birth ne'er promised you.
Clif. I see you know my history.

Wal. I do.

You're lucky who conjoin the benefits

Of penury and abundance; for I know

Your father was a man of slender means.

You do not blush, I see. That's right! Why should you?

What merit to be dropp'd on fortune's hill?

The honour is to climb it. You'd have done it;
For you were train'd to knowledge, industry,

Frugality, and honesty,-the sinews

That surest help a man to gain the top,

And then will keep him there. I have a clerk,

Once served your father; there's the riddle for you. Humph! I may thank you for my life to-day.

Clif. I pray you say not so.

Wal. But I will say so!

Because I think so, know so, feel so, sir!

Your fortune, I have heard, I think, is ample!
And doubtless you live up to 't?

Clif. 'T was my rule,

And is so still, to keep my outlay, sir,

A span within my means.

Wal. A prudent rule!

The turf is a seductive pastime ?

Clif. Yes.

Wal. You keep a racing stud? You bet?
Clif. No, neither.

'T was still my father's precept-" Better owe
A yard of land to labour, than to chance

Be debtor for a rood!"

Wal. 'Twas a wise precept.

You've a fair house-you'll get a mistress for it?
Clif. In time!

Wal. In time? 'Tis time thy choice were made! Is 't not so yet? Or is thy lady love

The newest still thou seest?

Clif. Nay, not so.

I'd marry, Master Walter, but old use-
For since the age of thirteen, I have lived

In the world-has made me jealous of the thing
That flatter'd me with hope of profit. Bargains
Another would snap up, might lie, for me;
Till I had turn'd and turn'd them! Speculations,
That promised twenty, thirty, forty, fifty,