He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly, With many holiday and lady terms He questioned me; among the rest, demanded I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, Out of my grief and my impatience, Answered neglectingly, I know not what; He should, or should not; for he made me mad, To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman Of guns, and drums, and wounds (Heaven save the mark!) And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth Was spermaceti for an inward bruise; Betwixt my love and your high majesty. SHAKSPEARE. From harmony, from heavenly harmony, From harmony to harmony, Through all the compass of the notes it can, What passion cannot music raise and quell? Less than a God they thought there could not dwell That spoke so sweetly and so well. What passion cannot music raise and quell? The trumpet's loud clangour Excites us to arms; With shrill notes of anger, And mortal alarms. The double, double, double beat Of the thundering drum, Cries, Hark! the foes come: The soft complaining flute, In dying notes discovers The woes of hapless lovers; Whose dirge is whispered by the warbling lute. Sharp violins proclaim Their jealous pangs, and desperation, Fury, frantic indignation, Depths of pain and height of passion, For the fair disdainful dame. But, oh! what art can teach, What human voice can reach, But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher; DRYDEN. 21.-BRUTUS'S HARANGUE ON THE DEATH OF CÆSAR. ROMANS, Countrymen, and Lovers!-hear me for my cause; and be silent that you may hear. Believe me for mine honour; and have respect to mine honour, 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 Cæsar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Cæsar was no less than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer: Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves; than that Cæsar were dead, to live all freemen?-As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honour for his valour, and death for his ambition.-Who's here so base, that would be a bondman? if any, speak; for him have I offended. Who's here so rude, that would not be a Roman? if any, speak; for him have I offended. Who's here so vile, that will not love his country? if any, speak; for him have I offended.- -I pause for a reply. None! then none have I offended. I have done no more to Cæsar, than you should do to Brutus. The question 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, mourned 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 shall 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. SHAKSPEARE. 22.-MARC ANTONY'S ADDRESS OVER THE BODY OF CÆSAR. FRIENDS, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him. And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept : I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? And, sure, he is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. Have stood against the world: now lies he there, Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent; For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab, Even at the base of Pompey's statue, Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell. They that have done this deed are honourable; |