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Who sees him act, but envies every deed?

Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed?
E'en when proud Cesar, 'midst triumphal cars,
The spoils of nations and the pomp of wars,
Ignobly vain, and impotently great,

Show'd Rome her Cato's figure drawn in state;
As her dead father's rev'rend image pass'd,
The pomp was darken'd and the day o'ercast,
The triumph ceas'd-tears gush'd from every eye;
The world's great victor pass'd unheeded by ;
Her last good man, dejected Rome ador'd,
And honor'd Cesar's less than Cato's sword.
Britons attend. Be worth like this approv'd;
And show you have the virtue to be mov'd.
With honest scorn the first fam'd Cato view'd
Rome learning arts from Greece, whom she subdu❜d:
Our scene precariously subsists too long

On French translation and Italian song.

Dare to have sense yourselves; assert the stage;
B justly warm'd with your own native rage.
Such plays alone should please a British ear,
As Cato's self had not disdain'd to hear."

XV-Cato's Soliloquy on the Immortality of the Soul

TRAGEDY OF CATÒ

IT must be so-Plato thou reasonest well!
E'se, Whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?

Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror,
Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
'Tis the divinity that stirs within us:
"Tis heaven itself that points out an Hereafter,
And intiniates Eternity to man.

Eternity!-thou pleasing, dreadful thought!
Through what variety of untried being,

Through what new seenes and changes must we pass *

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.

But when? Or where? This world was made for Cesar.

I'm weary of conjectures- this must end them.

[La ing his hand on his sword.

Thus I am doubly arm'd. My death and life,

My bane and antidote are both before me..
This in a moment brings me to an end;
But this informs me I shall never die.

The soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth ;
Unhurt amidst the war of elements,

The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.

XVI.-Speech of Henry V. to the Soldiers at the Siege of Harfleur.-SHAKESPEARE'S HENRY V.

ONCE more unto the breach, dear friends once more, Or close the wall up with the English dead.

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man

As modest stillness and humility;

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tyger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard favor'd rage:
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect:
Let it pray o'er the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
And fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.

Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide;
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To its full height. Now on, you noblest English,
Whose blood is fetch'd from fathers of war proof;
Fathers, that like so many Alexanders,

Have in these parts from morn till even fought,
And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument.
Dishonor not your mother; now attest

That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The metal of your pasture; let us swear

That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit; and, upon this charge,
Cry, God for Harry, England and St. George !

XVII-Speech of Henry V, before the Battle of Agincourt, on the Earl of Westmoreland's wishing for mure Men from England-IB.

WHAT'S he that wishes more men from England?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin ;
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow

To do our country loss; and, if to live,

The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
No, no, my Lord; wish not a man from England.

Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland throughout my host,
That he who hath no stomach to this fight,

May straight depart; his passport shall be made;
And crowns, for convoy, put into his purse.
He would not die in that man's company.
This day is called the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tiptce, when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and sees old age,
Will yearly, on the vigil, feast his neighbors,
And say, Tomorrow is St. Crispian;

Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars.
Old men forget, yet shall not all forget,

And they'll remember, with advantages,

What feats they did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouths as household words,
Harry the king. Bedford and Exeter,

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Glo'ster,
Be in their flowing cups, freshly remembered.
This story shall the good man teach his son:
And Crispian's day shall ne'er go by
From this time to the ending of the world,
But we and it shall be remembered;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother; be he e'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition

And gentlemen in England, now abed,

Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks
That fought with us upon St. Crispian's day.

XVIII.-Soliloquy of Dick the Apprentice.—

FARCE THE APPRENTICE. THUS far we run before the wind-An apothe cary!-Make an apothecary of me!What, cramp my genius over a pestle and mortar; or mew me up in

a shop, with an alligator stuffed, and a beggarly account of empty boxes! To be culling simples, and constantly adding to the bills of mortality! No! no! It will

be much better to be pasted up in capitals, THE PART OF ROMEO BY A YOUNG GENTLEMAN, WHO NEVER APPEARED ON ANY STAGE BEFORE! My ambition fires at the thought- -But hold; mayn't I run some chance of failing in my attempt? Hissed-peltedlaughed at-not admitted into the green room;

-that

will never do-down, busy devil, down, down; try it
again-loved by the women-envied by the men-ap-
plauded by the pit, clapped by the gallery, admired by
the boxes, "Dear colonel, is'nt he a charming creature?
My lord, don't you like him of all things -Makes love
like an angel! What an eye he has !- Fine legs!
--I shall certainly go to his benefit."Celestial
sounds!—And then I'll get in with the painters,
and have myself put up in every print shop-in the char-
acter of Macbeth! "This is a sorry sight." (Stands
an attitude.) In the character of Richard, "Give me
another horse Bind up my wounds!" This will do rare-
ly-
And then I have a chance of getting well marri-
ed- O glorious thought! I will enjoy it, though but
in fancy. But what's o'clock ? it must be almost nine.
I'll away at once; this is club night-the spouters are
all met-little think they I'm in town-they'll be sur-
prised to see me-off I go; and then for my assigna-
tion with my master Gargle's daughter.

XiX.-Cassius instigating Brutus to join the Conspiracy
against Cesar.-TRAGEDY OF JULIUS CESAR.
HONOR is the subject of my story.
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life; but for my single self,
I had as lief not be as live o be

In awe of such a thing as myself.

I was born free as Cesar, so were you:
We both have fed as well; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he.
For once upon a raw and gusy day,
The troubled Tiber chafing with his shores,
Cesar says to me Dar'st thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,

And swim to yonder point?" Upon the word,
Accoutred as 1 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 Æneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy, upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear! 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 I 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 asham'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 talk'd of Rome,
That her wide walls encompass'd but one man?
Oh! You and I have heard our fathers say,
There was a Brutus once, that would have brook'd
Th' infernal devil, to keep his state in Rome,
As easily as a king.

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