By owing owes not, | but still pays, | at once
Indebted and discharged | what burden then? |
Oh, had his powerful destiny ordained

Me some inferior Angel, | I had stood

Then happy no unbounded hope had raised
Ambition. Yet why not? | Some other Power

As great might have aspired, and me, though mean,
Drawn to his part. | But other Powers as great

Fell not, but stand unshaken, | from within
Or from without | to all temptations armed! |

Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand? |
Thou hadst. | Whom hast thou then, or what, to accuse, |

But Heaven's free love dealt equally to all? |

60

65

Be then his love accursed, | since, love or hate

To me alike it deals eternal woe. |

70

Nay, cursed be thou; | since against his thy will

Chose freely what it now so justly rues.

Me miserable! | which way shall I fly |

Infinite wrath and infinite despair? |

Which way I fly is Hell; | myself am Hell; |

75

And, in the lowest deep, | a lower deep
Still threatening to devour me opens wide, ↑

To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven. |
O then, at last relent! | Is there no place
Left for repentance, | none for pardon left? |
None left but by submission; and that word
Disdain forbids me, | and my dread of shame
Among the Spirits beneath, | whom I seduced
With other promises and other vaunts

Than to submit, | boasting I could subdue

80

85

The Omnipotent. | Ay me! | they little know
How dearly I abide that boast so vain. |
Under what torments inwardly I groan. |
While they adore me on the throne of Hell, |
With diadem and sceptre high advanced, |
The lower still I fall, only supreme
In misery such joy ambition finds! |

But say
By act of grace, my former state | how soon

I could repent | and could obtain,

Would highth recall high thoughts | how soon unsay
What feigned submission swore! | Ease would recant
Vows made in pain, as violent and void |
(For never can true reconcilement grow |
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep) |
Which would but lead me to a worse relapse
And heavier fall so should I purchase dear
Short intermission, | bought with double smart. |
This knows my Punisher; therefore as far
From granting he, | as I from begging, peace, |
All hope excluded thus, | behold, instead
Of us, outcast, exiled, his new delight,

90

94

100

105

Mankind, created, | and for him this World! |

So farewell hope, | and, with hope, farewell fear, |
Farewell remorse! | All good to me is lost; |

Evil, be thou my Good by thee at least
Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold, |

By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign; |

As man e'er long, and this new world shall know. |

IIO

PAUSES. CESURA.

Exercise 1.

JULIUS CÆSAR.

Act II.

Scene I.

Bru. Give me your hands all over, one by one. Cas. And let us swear our resolution.

Bru. No, not an oath || if not the face of men, "The sufferance of our souls || the time's abuse, || If these be motives weak || break off betimes, And every man | hence to his idle bed; So let high-sighted tyranny || range on, Till each man drop by lottery. But if these, As I am sure they do || bear fire enough

To kindle cowards || and to steel with valour

The melting spirits of women | then, countrymen,
What need we any spur || but our own cause
To prick us to redress || what other bond

Than secret Romans || that have spoke the word
And will not palter || and what other oath

Than honesty | to honesty engaged,

That this shall be or we will fall for it?

Swear priests, and cowards || and men cautelous,

Old feeble carrions || and such suffering souls

That welcome wrongs || unto bad causes swear
Such creatures as men doubt || but do not stain
The even virtue || of our enterprise,

Nor the insuppressive mettle || of our spirits,
To think that or our cause || or our performance
Did need an oath || when every drop of blood
That every Roman bears || and nobly bears,

Is guilty of a several bastardy

If he do break || the smallest particle

Of any promise I that hath passed from him.

Exercise 2.

JULIUS CÆSAR.

Act I. Scene I.

Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he:

home?

What tributaries | follow him to Rome,

To grace in captive bonds | his chariot wheels?

You

blocks, you stones || you worse
things?

than senseless.

O you hard hearts | you cruel men of Rome,
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climbed up to walls || and battlements,
To towers and windows | yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms || and there have sat
The livelong day || with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey || pass the streets of Rome :
And when you saw || his chariot but appear,
Have you not made || an universal shout,

That Tiber II trembled underneath her banks

To hear the replication II of your sounds
Made in her concave shores?

And do you now I put on your best attire,
And do you now || cull out a holiday,

And do you now || strew flowers in his way

That comes in triumph || over Pompey's blood?
Be gone!

Run to your houses || fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods || to intermit the plague
That needs must light I on this ingratitude.