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And swim to yonder point:

Upon the word, And bade him follow : so indeed lie did. The torrent roar'd and we did buffet it Witb lusty sinews; throwing it aside, And stemming it with hearts of controversy. But ere we could arrive the point propos'd, Cesar cry'd, “Help me, Cassius, or sink. 1, as Æneas, our great ancestor, Did from the flames of Troy, upon his shoulder The old Anchises bear! so, from the waves of Tiben Did I the tired Cesar; and this man Is now become a god; and Cassius is À wretched creature, and must bend his body, If Cesar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him I did mark How he did shake; 'tis true, this god did shake ; His coward lips did from their color fly; And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, Did lose its lustre ; I did liear him groan : Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans Mark him and write his speeches in their books, * Alas !” it cry'd : “Give me some drink, Titinius ;" As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, A man of such a feeble temper, should So get the start of the majestic world, And bear the palm alone Brutus and Cesar! What should be in that Cesar? Why should that name be sounded more than yours? Write them together ; yours is as fair a name; Sound them; it doch become the mouth as well; Weigh them ; it is as heavy ; Conjure with 'em; Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cesar. Now in the name of all the gods at once, Up: in what meats doth this our Cesar feed, 'That he has grown so great ? Age, thou art asham'd; Rome thou hast lost the breed of poble bloods. When went there by an age, since the great flood, Bit it was fam'd with more than with one man? When could they say, till now, that talk'd of Rome, Tha: her wide walls encoropass'd but one man? Oh! You and I have heard our fathers say, There was a Brutus once, that would have brook'd Th'infernal devil, to keep his state in Rome, As easily as a king.

XXI.-Brutus' Harrangue on the Death of Cesar.-IB.

ROMANS, Countrymen and Lovers - Flere me for my cause; and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me for mine honor; and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom; and a wake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cesar's, to him, I say, that Brutus' love to Cesar was no less than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cesar, this is my answer: not that I loved Cesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cesar were living, and die all slaves ; than that Cesar were dead, to live all freemeu ? As Cesar loved me, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him ; but, as he was ambitious, I slew win. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, hvoor for his valor, and death for his ambition.

- Who's here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him I have offended. Who's here so rude, that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him I have offended. Who's here so vile, that will not love his country ? If any, speak; for him I have offend. ed. I pause for a reply

None! Then none have ( offended. I have done no more tu Cesar than you shall do to Brutus. tion of his death is earolled in the Capitol ; bis glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death.

Here comes his body, mourn'u by Mark Antony ; who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receivo the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth ; as which of

you

shall not ? With this I depart-that as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to Deed my deaths

XXII.-Antony's Oration over Cesar's Body.

FRIENDS, Roinans, Countrymen! Lend me your ears
I come to bury Cesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do, lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones :

The ques.

So let it be with Cesar ! Noble Brutus
Hath told you, Cesar was ambitious.
If it were so, it was a grievous taalt;
And grievously hath Cesar answer'd it.
Here under leave of Brutus, and the rest,
(For Brutus is an honorable man,
So are they all, all honorable men)
Come I to speak in Cesar's funeral-

He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But frutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honorable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoins did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Cesar seem ambitious ?
When that the poor have cried, Cesar hath wept!
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honorable man.
You all did see, that, on the Lupercal,
I thrice presented him a kingly crown;
Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ;
And sure, he, is an honorable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke ;
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once; not without cause ;
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment! Thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Cesar;
And I must pause till it come back to me.

But yesterday the word, Cesar, might Have stocd against the world! now lies he there, And rione so poor to do him reverence. O Masters! If I were dispos’d to stir Your hearis and minds to mutiny and rage, I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong; Who you all know, are honorable men. I will not do them wronge rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, Than I will wrong such honorable men. But bere's a parchment, with the seal of Cesar ; I found it in his closet : 'uis his will. Lét but the commons hear this testament, (Which, pardon me I do not mean to read) And they would go and kiss dead Cesar's wounds And dip their napkins in his sacred blood Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills; Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy,

Unto their issue.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now,
You all do know this mantle; I remember
The first time ever Cesar put it on ;
'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent,
That day he overconie the Nervii-
Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through-
See what a rent the envious Casca made
Through this the well beloved Brutus stabb'd;
And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cesar follow'd it !
This, was the unkindest cut of all !
For when the noble Cesar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms,
Quite vanquish'd him! Then burst his nighty heart,
And in his mantle muffling up his face,
E'en at the base of Pompey's statue,
(Which all the while ran blood) great Cesar 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 behold
Our Cesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here!
Here is himself-marr'd, as you see, by traitors.

Good friends! Sweet friends! Let me not stir you up
To such a sudden flood of mutiny !
'They that have done this deed are honorable !
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it ! 'They are wise and honorable,
And will, no doubt, with reason 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, for words, nor worth,
Action, nur utterance, nor power of speech,
To stir men's blood-1 only speak right on,
I tell you that which you yourselves do know
Show you sweet Cesar's wounds, poor, poor,dumb months.
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 tongne
In every wound of Cesar, that should more.
The stenes of Rome to rise and mutiny..

XXII.-Falstaff's Soliloquy on Honor.-HENRY IV.

OWE hearen a death ; 'Tis not due yet ; and I would be loth to pay him before his day. What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me? Well, 'tis po matterhonor pricks me on. But how, if hovor prick me off when I come on? Ilow then ? Can honor set to a leg? No; or an arm ? No; or take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honor hath no skill in surgery, then? No. What is honor ! A word. What is that word hon. or? Air; a trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that died a Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Both be hear iti No. Is it insensible, then ! Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living ? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore, I'll aone of it. Honor is a mere 'scutcheon--and so ends my catechism. XXIV.--Part of Richard IIId's Soliloquy the night pres eeding the Battle of Bosworth.

TRAGEDY OF RICHARD III.
'TIS now the dead of night, and half the world
Is with a lonely solemn darkness hung;
Yet I (so coy a dame is sleep to me)
With all the weary courtship of
My care tir'd thoughts, can't win her to my bed, [ing
Though e'en the stars do wink,as' twere, with over watch-
I'll forth, and walk awhile. The air's refreshing,
And the ripe harvest of the new mown hay
Gives it a sweet and wholesome odor.
How awful is this gl om! and hark! From camp to camp
The hum of either army stilly sounds,
That the fix'd sentinels almos! receive
The secret whisper of each other's watch !
Steed threatens seed in high and boasting neighings,
Piercing the night's dull ear. Hark! From the tents,
The armorers, accomplishing the knights,
With clink of hammers closing rivels up,
Give dreadful note of preparation : while some,
Like sacrifices, by their fires of watch,
With patience sit, and inly ruminate
The morning's danger. By yon heaven, my stern
Impatience chides this tardy gated night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, does limp
So tediously away. I'li to my couch,
And once more try to sleep her iuto morning.

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