Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself,
And brought in matter that should feed this fire:
And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out
With that same weak wind which enkindled it.
You taught me how to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with interest to this land;
Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart;
And come ye now to tell me John hath made
His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me?
I, by the honour of my marriage-bed,
After young Arthur, claim this land for mine;
And now, it is half conquered, must I back,
Because that John hath made his peace with Rome?
Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne,
What men provided, what munition sent,
To underprop this action? Is't not I
That undergo this charge? Who else but I,
And such as to my claim are liable,
Sweat in this business, and maintain this war?
Have I not heard these Islanders shout out,
Vive le Roy! as I have bank'd their towns?
Have I not here the best cards for the game,
To win this easy match played for a crown?
And shall I now give o'er the yielded set?
No, no, my soul, it never shall be said.
Courage and Boasting.
Cæsar sits down in Alexandria, where
I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
Hath nobly held our sever'd navy, too,
Have knit again, and fleet, threat'ning most sea-like.
Where hast thou been, my heart? Dost thou hear, lady?
If from the field I should return once more,
I will appear in blood;
I and my sword will earn my chronicle;
There is hope in it yet:
I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breath'd,
And fight maliciously: for when my hours
Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives
Of me for jests; but now I'll set my teeth,
And send to darkness all that stop me.
Show me what thou'lt do;
Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear th self? Woo't drink up eisel; eat a crocodile ?
I'll do't-Dost hou come here to whine,
To outface me with leaping in her grave?
Be buried quick with her, and so will I:
And if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us; till our ground,
Singeing its pate against the burning zone,
Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
I'll rant as well as thou.
YES;-tis Æmilia:-by and by.-She's dead.
"Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death;
The noise was high.-Ha! no more moving?
Still as the grave.-Shall she come in, wer't good?
I think she stirs again :-No.-What's the best?
If she come in she'll sure speak to my wife.
O WHAT a rogue and peasant slave am I !
Is it not monstrous, that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit,
That from her working all his visage warm'd,
Tears in his eyes, distraction in his aspect.
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
With forms to his conceit! and all for nothing;
For Hecuba!
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her?
Troi. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me!
Pan. Because she's akin to me therefore, she's not so fair as He len, an she were not kin to me, she would be as fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not an she were a blackamoor, 'tis all one to me.
Troi. Say I she is not fair?
Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to stay behind her father: let her to the Greeks-and so I'll tell her the next time I see her-for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more i' th' matter. Troi. Pandarus
Pan. Not I
Tro. Sweet Pandarus
Pan Pray you speak no more to me-I will leave all as I found it--and there's an end.
How like a fawning publican he looks!
I hate him, for he is a Christian;
But more for that, in low simplicity,
He lends out money gratis, and brings down
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
If I can catch him once upon the hip,
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
He hates our sacred nation, and he rails
Ev'n there where merchants most do congregate,
On me, my bargains, and my well won thrift,
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe
If I forgive him.
In my just censure! in my true opinion!
Alack for lesser knowledge!-how accurs'd
In being so bless'd! There may be in the cup
A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart,
And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge
Is not infected; but if one present
The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known
How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides,
With violent hefts.-1 have drunk, and seen the spider!
The Defender of his Country, the Founder of Liberty,
THE FRIEND OF MAN.
History and Tradition are explored in vain for a parallel to his character. In the annals of modern greatness,
And the noblest names of Antiquity lose their lustre in his
presence. Born the Benefactor of Mankind, he
united all the qualities necessary to an
illustrious career.
Nature made him great: He made himself virtuous. Called by his Country to the defence of her Liberties, he triumphantly vindicated the rights of humanity; and on the pillars of NATIONAL INDEPENDENCE; laid the foundation of a Great
Twice invested with Supreme
Magistracy, by the voice of a Free People,
He surpassed in the Cabinet the glories of the Field;
And voluntarily resigning the sceptre, and the sword, retired
to the shades of private life. A spectacle so new,
and so sublime, was contemplated with the most
profound admiration; and the name of
WASHINGTON,
Adding new lustre to humanity,
resounded to the remotest regions of the Earth.
Magnanimous in Youth, glorious through Life;
Great in Death; his highest ambition,
THE HAPPINESS OF MANKIND;
His noblest victory,
THE CONQUEST OF HIMSELF.
Bequeathing to posterity the inheritance of his
fame, and building his monument in the
hearts of his countrymen,
The Ornament of the Eighteenth Century :
Regretted by a Mourning World.
|