The practical elocutionist

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18 ÆäÀÌÁö - God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
260 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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 Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me...
21 ÆäÀÌÁö - The wide, th' unbounded prospect, lies before me; But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. Here will I hold. If there's a power above us, (And that there is all nature cries aloud Through all her works), he must delight in virtue ; And that which he delights in, must be happy.
258 ÆäÀÌÁö - tis his will : Let but the commons hear this testament, (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read) And they would go and kiss dead Caesar'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.
62 ÆäÀÌÁö - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
260 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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.
169 ÆäÀÌÁö - The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy ; But ere we could arrive the point proposed, Caesar cried ' Help me, Cassius, or I sink...
258 ÆäÀÌÁö - But yesterday, the word of Caesar might Have stood against the world ; now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence.
154 ÆäÀÌÁö - I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past...
28 ÆäÀÌÁö - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...

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