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foes?

That is removed by a staff of France; But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy! Our colours do return in those same hands Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great: That did display them when we first march'd of nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast, forth;

And with the half-blown rose. And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come

Grief
Our lasty English, all with purpled hands, I will instruct my sorrows to be proud :
Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes. For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.

Constance to Austria.
A complete Lady.
If lusty love should go in quest of beauty,

O Lymoges! ( Austria! thou dost shame Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch? That bloody spoil: thou slave, thou wretch,

thou coward;
If zealous love should go in search of virtue,
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? Thou little valiant, great in villany!
If love, ambitious, sought a match of birth,

Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!
Whose veins bound richer blood than lady But when her humorous ladyship is by,

Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight,
Blanch?

To teach thee safety! thou art perjur'd too,
On Commodity, or Self-Interest.
-Rounded in the ear

And sooth’st up greatness. What a fool art With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil; A ramping fool! to brag, and stamp, and swear,

thou, That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith; Upon my party! thou cold-blooded slave, That daily break-vow; he that wins of all, Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, Been sworn my soldier? bidding me depend

Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side? maids Who having no external thing to lose [that; Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength? But the word maid-cheats the poor maid of And dost thou now fall over to my

Thou wear a lion's hide! doffit, for shame, That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling commodity

And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs.

The Horrors of a Conspiracy.
Commodity, the bias of the world;

I had a thing to say--but let it go :
The world, which of itself is poised well
Made to run even, upon even ground;

The sun is in the heaven; and the proud day, Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias,

Attended with the pleasures of the world, This sway of motion, this commodity,

Is all too wanton, and too full of gaudes, Makes it take head from all indifferency,

To give me audience. If the midnight-bell From all direction, purpose, course, intent;

Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,

Sound one unto the drowsy race of night; And this same bias, &c. A Woman's Fears.

If this same were a church-yard where we Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting

stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand

wrongs : me, For I am sick, and capable of fears ;

Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, Oppress’d with wrongs, and therefore full of Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick,

(Which else runs tickling up and down the fears;

veins, A widow, husbandless, subject to fears ; A woman, naturally born to fears;

Making that idiot laughter keep men's eyes, And tho thou now confess thou didst but jest, | A passion hateful to my purposes);

And strain their checks to idle merriment, With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce,

Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, But they will quake and tremble all this day.

Hear me without thine ears, and make reply Tokens of Grief:

Without a tongue, using conceit alone What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head? Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of Why dost thou look so sadly on my son?

words; What means that hand upon that breast of Then in despite of brooded watchful day, thine ?

I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts; Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,

But, ah! I will not. Like a proud river peering o'er its bounds?

A Mother's Ravings. Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words?

I am not mad; this hair I tear, is mine;' Then speak again; not all thy former tale,

My name is Constance ; I was Geffrey's wise; But this one word, whether thy tale be true.

Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost: A Mother's Fondness for a beautiful Child. I am not mad-I would to Heaven I were ! If thou, that bidd'st na be content, were For then 'tis like I should forget myself : grim,

0, if I could, what grief should I forget! Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, Preach some philosophy to make me mad, Full of unpleasing blots, and sightless stains, And thou shalt be canoniz'd, Cardinal; Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, For, being not mad, but sensible of grief, Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending My reasonable part produces reason marks,

How I may be deliver'd of these woes, I would not care, I would then be content; And teaches me to kill or hang myself. For then I should not love thee: no, nor thou If I were mad, I should forget my son, Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he:

head;

eyes ?

I am not mad: too well, too well I feel Have you the heart? when your head did The diff'rent plague of each calamity.

but ake, Apostrophe to Death.

I knit my handkerchief about your brows

(The best I had, a princess wrought it me), O amiable, lovely death!

And I did neger ask it you again : Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness! And with my hand at midnight held your Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, Thou hate and terror to prosperity,

And like the watchful minutes to the hour, And I will kiss thy detestable bones;

Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time; And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows; And ring these fingers with thy household Saying, What lack you?' and, Where lies your

worms; And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, Many a poor man's son would have lain still,

Or, What good love may I perform for you? And be a carrion monster like thyself:

And 'ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smil'st But you at your sick service had a prince. And buss thee as thy wife! misery's love,

Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love, O, come to me!

And call it cunning: do, an if you will;
A Mother's Grief.

If Heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill, Father Cardinal, I have heard you say,

Why then you must.-Will you put out mine That we shall see and know our friends in heaven:

These eyes that never did, nor never shall, If that be true, I shall see my boy again ;

So much as frown on you ?-
For, since the birth of Cain, the first male-
To him that did but yesterday suspire, [child,

Alas! what need you be so boist'rous rough?
There was not such a gracious creature born. I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still.
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud,

For Heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be And chase the native beauty from his cheek,

bound ! And he will look as hollow as a ghost,

Nay hear me, Hubert, drive these men away, As dim and meagre as an ague's ht;

And I will sit as quiet as a lamb; And so he'll die; and, rising so again,

I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, When I shall meet him in the court of heaven, Nor look upon the iron angerly: [you, I shall not know him : therefore, never, never Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.

Whatever torment you do put me to.-
Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. Is there no remedy?
Const. He talks to me, that never had a son.

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes.
K. Phil. You are as fond of grief as of your

Arth. O Heaven! that there were but a mote child.

[child,
Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me; Any annoyance in that precious sense !
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words ;

Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous Remembers me of all his gracious parts,

there, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;

Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. Then have I reason to be fond of grief.

To add to Perfection, superfluous and susDespondency.

picious.

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, There's nothing in this world can make me To throw a perfume on the violet, joy:

To smooth the ice, or add another hue Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,

Unto the rainbow, or with taper light
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Departing Diseases.

Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.
Before the curing of a strong discase,
Even in the instant of repair and hcalth,

In this the antique and well-noted face
The fit is strongest ; evils that take leave,

Of plain old form is much disfigured : On their departure most of all show evil.

And, like a shifted wind unto a sail,

It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about; Dunger lays Hold of any Support. Startles and frights consideration; He that stands upon a slipp'ry place,

Makes sound opinions sick, and truth sus. Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.

pected,

For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. Arthur's pathetic Speeches to Hubert.

Murderer's Look. Methinks, nobody should be sad but I : This is the man should do the bloody deed; Yet, I remember, when I was in France, The image of a wicked heinous fault Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, Does show the mood of a much troubled breast. So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,

Struggling Conscience. I should be merry as the day is long

The color of the king doth come and go Between his purpose and his conscience,

in yours,

war

Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set :

A Man's Tears.
His passion is so ripe, it needs must break. Let me wipe off this honorable dew,
News-tellers on the Death of Arthur.

That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks: Old men and beldams, in the streets,

My heart háth melted at a lady's tears, Do prophesy upon it dangerously: [mouths; Being an ordinary inundation; Young Arthur's death is common in their But this effusion of such manly drops, And, when they talk of him, they shake their This show'r blown up by tempest of the soul, heads,

Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd, And whisper one another in the ear;

Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors.

Lift wrist;

up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, Whiles he that hears makes fearful action,

And with a great heart heave away this storm: With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling Commend these waters to those baby-eyes

That never saw the giant-world enrag'd ; eyes. I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus,

Nor met with fortune other than at feasts, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool,

Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping. With open mouth, swallowing a tailor's news;

Drums. Who with his shears and measure in his hand, Strike up the drums, and let the tongue of Standing on slippers (which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet),

Plead for our int'rest. Told of a many thousand warlike French,

Do but start That were embattled and rank'd in Kent : An echo with the clamor of thy drum, Another lean unwash'd artificer

And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd, Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. That shall reverberate all as loud as thine:

Sound but another, and another shall, Kings' evil Purposes too servilely and hastily As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,

executed. It is the curse of kings, to be attended

And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder. By slaves, that take their humors for a warrant

The Approach of Death. To break into the bloody house of life;

It is too late, the life of all his blood And, on the winking of authority,

Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain To understand a law; to know a meaning

(Which some suppose the soul's frail dwellOf dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it ing house) frowns

Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, More upon humor than advis'd respect,

Foretel the ending of mortality.

Madness occasioned by Poison. A Villain's Look, and wicked Zeal.

Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room; How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds It would not out at windows, nor at doors. Makes deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by, | There is so hot a summer in my bosom, A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, That all my bowels crumble up to dust: Quoted, and sign'd, to do a deed of shame, I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen This murder had not come into my mind : Upon a parchment; and again this fire Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made a Do I shrink up.

pause, When I spake darkly what I purposed; Poison'd-ill fare lead, forsook, cast off ; Or turn'dan eye of doubt upon my face, And none of you will bid the winter come Or bid me tell my tale in express words; To thrust his icy fingers in my maw; Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course break off,

(in me. Thro' my burnt bosom ; nor entreat the north And those thy fears might have wrought fears To make his bleak winds kiss my parch'd lips, Hypocrisy.

And comfort me with cold. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes,

England invincible, if unanimous. For villany is not without such rheum; England never did (nor never shall) And he, long traded in it, makes it seem

Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, Like rivers of remorse and innocency.

But when it first did help to wound itself.

Now these her princes are come home again, Despair. If thou didst but consent

Come the three corners of the world in arms, To this most cruel act, do but despair,

And we shall shock them :-Nought shall

make us rue, And, if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread If England to itself do rest but true. That ever spider twisted from her womb Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be a beam

[thyself, $ 27. JULIUS CÆSAR. SHAkspeare. To hang thee on: or, wouldst thou drown

Patriotism. Put but a little water in a spoon,

What is it that you would impart to me? And it shall be as all the ocean,

If it be aught toward the general good, Enough to stifle such a villain up.

Set honor in one eye, and death i'ihe other,

And I will look on both indifferently :

Cæsar's Dislike of Cassius. For, let the gods so speed me, as I love Would he were fatter !--but I fear him not: The name of honor more than I fear death. Yet if my name were liable to fear, Cassius, in Contempt of Cæsar.

I do not know the man I should avoid I was born free as Cæsar ; so were you :

So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much; We both have fed as well, and we can both He is a great observer, and he looks [plays, Endure the winter's cold as well as he. Quite through the deeds of men; he loves no For once, upon a raw and gusty day,

As thou dost, Autony ; he hears no music : The troubled Tiber chafing with his shores,

Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort, Cæsar says to me, “ Dar’st thou, Cassius, now As if he mock'd himself, and scorp'd his spirit Leap in with me into this angry flood,

That could be mov'd to smile at any thing. And swim to yonder point?”—Upon the word, Such men as he be never at heart's ease, Accoutred as I was, 'I plunged in,

Whiles they behold a greater than themselves; And bade him follow : so, indeed, he did.

And therefore are they very dangerous. The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it

I rather tell thee what is to be feard, With lusty sinews; throwing it aside,

Than what I fear; for always I am Cæsar. And stemming it with hearts of controversy.

Spirit of Liberty. But ere we could arrive the point propos'd, I know where I will wear this dagger then; Cæsar cried, “ Help me, Cassius, or I sink.” Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius : I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,

Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most Did from the fames of Troy upon his shoulder strong ; The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat; Did I the tired Cæsar : and this man (Tiber Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Is now become a god; and Cassius is Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, A wretched creature, and must bend his body, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.- But life, being weary of these worldly bars, He had a fever when he was in Spain ; Never lacks power to dismiss itself. And, when the fit was on him, I did mark If I know this, know all the world besides, How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake; That part of tyranny, that I do bear, His coward lips did from their color fly; I can shake off at pleasure. And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the

Ambition, covered with specious Humility. world,

But 'tis a common proof, Did lose his lustre; I did hear him groan: That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans Whereto the climber upward turns his face ; Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, But when he once attains the upmost round, Alas! it cried—“Give me some drink, Titi- He then unto the ladder turns his back, nius"

Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, By which he did ascend. A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of this majestic world,

Conspiracy dreadful till executed. And bear the palın alone [Shout-Flourish.

Between the acting of a dreadful thing,

And the first motion, all the interim is
Bru. Another general shout!
I do believe that these applauses are

Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: For some new honors that are heap'd on Cæsar. Are then in council; and the state of man,

The genius and the mortal instruments
Cas. Why, man, hedoth bestride the narrow Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
Like a Colossus ; and we petty men (world
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about

The nature of an insurrection.
To find ourselves dishonorable graves.

Conspiracy: Dien at some time are masters of their fates :

O, conspiracy!

[night, The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

When evils are most free? O, ihen, by diy Brutus, and Cæsar: what should be in that Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough Cæsar?

[yours? To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek nune, Why should that name be sounded more than Hide it in siniles and affability; (conspiracy; Write them together, yours is as fair a name

For if thou path, thy native semblance on,

;
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well Not Erebus itself were dim enough
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em, To hide thee from prevention.
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar,

Against Cruelty.
Now in the names of all the gods at once,

Gentle friends, Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed, Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully; That he is grown sogreat? Age, thou art sham'd: Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods ! Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds; When went there by an age, since the great flood, And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, But it was fam'd with more than with one man? Stir up their servants to an act of rage, When could they say will now, that talk'd of And after seem to chide them. Rome,

Sleep. That her wide walks encompass'd butone man? Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber :

Thou hast no figures, nor no fantasies,

His Address to the Conspirators. Which busy care draws in the brains of men, I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

Who else must be let blood, who else is rank: Portia's Speech to Brutus.

If I myself, there is no hour so fit You have ungently, Brutus, As Cæsar's death's hour! nor no instrument Stole from my bed : and yesternight, at supper, Ofhalfthatworth, as those yourswords made rich You suddenly arose and walk'd about,

With the most noble blood of all this world. Musing, and sighing, with your arms across : I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard, (smoke, And, when I ask'd you what the matter was, Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and You star'd upon me with ungentle looks: Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, I urg'd you further; then you scratch'd your head, I shall not find myself so apt to die; And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot: No place will please me so, no mean of death, Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not; As here by Cæsar, and by you cut off, But, with an angry wafture of your hand, The choice and master spirits of this age. Gave sign for me to leave you : so I did;

Revenge. Fearing to strengthen that impatience,

Cæsar's spirit, ranging for revenge, Which seem'd too much enkindled; and, with. With Até by his side, come hot from hell, Hoping it was but an effect of humor, [al, Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice, Which sometime hath his hour with ev'ry man! Cry, “ Havoc !" and let slip the dogs of var. It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep;

Antony's Funeral ation. And, could it work so much upon your shape, Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,

your ears; I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord, I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him! Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. The evil that men do, lives after them; Calphurnia to Cæsar, on the Prodigies seen the The good is oft interred with their bones ; Night before his Death.

So let it be with Cæsar! The noble Brutus Cal. I never stood on ceremonies,

Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious : Yet now they fright me. There is one within, If it were so, it was a grievous fault; Besides the things that we have heard and seen, and grievously hath Cæsar answer'd it. Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest, A lioness hath whelped in the streets; (dead: (For Brutus is an honorable man; And graves have yawnd, and yielded up their So are they all, all honorable men) Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds, Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral." In ranks, and squadrons, and right form of war, He was my friend, faithful and just to me: Which drizzled blood upon

the Capitol :

But Brutus says, he was ambitious ; The noise of battle hurtled in the air;

And Brutus is an honorable man. Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan: He hath brought many captives home to Rome, And ghosts did shriek, and squeal about the Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: streets.

Did this in Cæsar seem ainbitious ? O Cæsar! these things are beyond all use, When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept; And I do fear them.

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Cæsar. What can be avoided,

Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious; Whose er.d is purpos'd by the mighty gods? And Brutus is an honourable man. Yet Cæsar shall go forth for these predictions You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, Are to the world in general, as to Cæsar. I thrice presented him a kingly crown, [tion? Cal. When beggars die, there are no comets Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambiseen :

[princes. Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of And, sure, he is an honourable man.

Against the Fears of Death. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, Cowards die many times before their death; But here I am to speak what I do know. The valiant never taste of death but once. You all did love him once, not without cause ; Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, What cause withholds you then to mourn for It seems to me most stange, that men should him? Seeing that death, a necessary end, [fear; | O judgement, thou art fled to brutish beasts, Will come, when it will come.

And men have lost their reason !-Bear with Danger.

me; Danger knows full well,

My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar, That Cæsar is more dangerous than he. And I must pause till it come back to me. We are two lions litter'd in one day, And I the elder and more terrible.

But yesterday the word of Cæsar might Envy.

Have stood against the world: now lies he there, My heart laments, that virtue cannot live And none so poor to do him reverence. Out of the teeth of emulation.

O masters! if I were dispos’d to stir Antony to the Corpse of Cæsar. Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, O mighty Cæsar ! dost thou lie so low? I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, Who, you all know, are honorable men: Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well! I will not do them wrong; I rather choose

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