Imatges de pÓgina

And swim to yonder point! Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bade him follow: so indeed he did.
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 propos'd,
Cesar cry'd, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink."
I, as Eneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy, upon his shoulder The old Anchises bears so, from the waves of Tiber, Did I the tired Cesar; and this man

Is now become a god; and Cassius is

A 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 1 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 hear 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 doth 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,
Upon what meats doth this our Cesar feed,
That he has grown so great: Age thou art sham'd?
Rome thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods.
When went there by an age, since the great flood,
But it was fam'd with more than with one man?
When could they say, till now, that talU'd of Rome,
That her wide walls encompass'd but one man!
Oh! You and I have heard our fathers sayt
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.—Ie.

ROMANS, Countrymen and Lovers !—Hear 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 awake 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 not 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 freemen? As Cesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I bonor him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor 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 offended. I pause for a reply

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

Here comes his body, mourn'd by Mark Antony; who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth ; as which of you sball 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 need my death.

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

FRIENDS, Romans, Countrymen! Lend me your earr.

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 :

So let it be with Cesar! Noble Brutus
Hath told you, Cesar was ambitious.
If it were so, it was a grievous fault;
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 : to -peak in Cesar's funeral.

He w

But Brust

y friend, faithful and just to me:
vs he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honoruble man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms 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 stood against the world! Now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence.

0 Masters! If I were dispos'd to stir

Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong;
Who, you all know, are honorable men.

I will not do them wrong—I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wrong such honorable men.

But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cesar;
I found it in his closet: '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 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 overcome 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, this was the unkindest cut of all !
For when the noble Cesar saw him stab*
Ingratitude more strong than traitor's arms,
Quite vanquished him! Then burst his mighty heart,
And in his mantle muffling up his face,

E'en at the base of Pompcy's statue,


(Which all the while ran blood) great Cesar fell.
0 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.

1 come not, friends, to steal away your hearts!

1 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 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 Cesar's wounds, poor, poor, dumb mouths. And bid them speak for me. But, were 1 Brutus,

And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony

Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cesar, that should move
The stones of Home to rise and mutiny.

XXIII. Falstoff'i Soliloquy on Honor.—Henry IV. OWE heaven 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, 'ti» no matter—honor pricks me on-But how, if honor prick me off when I come on? How 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 honor? Air; trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that died a Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? 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 none of it. Honor is a meie 'scutcheon—and so ends my catechism.

XXIV. Part of Richard Ill's Soliloquy the night preceding 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,

Though e'en the stars do wink, as 'twere, with over watching

I'il 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 thi3 gloom! And hark! From camp to camp. The hum of either army stilly sounds,

That the fix'd centiuels almost receive

The secret whisper of each other's watch!

Steed threatens steed 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 rivets 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 gaited night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, does limp
So tediously away. I'll to my couch,
And once more Icy to sleep her into morning

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