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(For Brutus is an honourable man:

^o are they all, all honourable men)

Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me;

But Brutus says he was ambitious,

And Brutus is an honourable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome,

Whose ransoms did the general coffers till;

Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?

When that the poor hath cry'd, Caesar hath wept;

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honourable 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 honourable 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 with-holds 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 Caesar,

And I must pause 'till it come back to me.

Brutus to Cassius.

(SHAKESPEARE.) There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am arm'd so strong in honesty, That they pass by me, as the idle wind, Which I respect not. I did send to you For certain sums of gold, which you deny'd me; For I can raise no money by vile means, By heaven I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring. From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash, By any indirection. 1 did send To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you deny'd me: was that done like Cassius? Should I have ahswer'd Caius Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal-counters from his friends, . .

Be ready, Gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dash him to pieces!

Opportunity to be Seized in all Affairs.

(SHAKESPEARE.)
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, lead* on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat:
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.

Anthony's Character of Brutus,

(SHAKESPEARE.)

This was the noblest fioman of them all:

All the conspirators, save only he,

Did that they did in envy of great Caesar:

He, only, in a general honest thought,

And common good to all, made one of them.

His life was gentle, and the elements

So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up,

And say to all the world, J'This was a man !■"

L*ar's passionate Exclamations amidst the Tempest.

(SHAKESPEARE.)

Blow winds, and crack your cheeks; rage, How'?

You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout

Till you have drencht our steeples, drown'd the cocks'

You sulph'rous and thought-executing fires,

Vauni-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,'

Singe my white head. And thou, all shaking thunder

Strike flat the thick rotundity o' th' world • *

Crack nature's mould, all gerniins spill at once

That make ingrateful man.

Rumble thy belly-full, spit fire, spout rain;

Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters:

I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness;

1 never gave you kingdom, cull'd you children •

You owe me no subscription. Then let fall'

Your horrible pleasure;—here I stand your slave

A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man! *

But yet I call you servile ministers,

That have with two pernicious daughters join'd

Your high-engender'd battles, 'gainst a head

So old and white as this. Oh! oh! 'tis foul.

************** ********

Piy'thee go in thyself; seek thine own ease;
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more—but I'll go in: ,
In, boy, go first. You houseless poverty—
Nay, get thee in; I'll pray, and then I'll sleep— *
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm!
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en.
Too little care of this! take physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou may'st shake the superflux to them,
And shew the heavens more just.

Description W/dover Cliff.
(shakespeare )

Come on, Sir, here's the place—stand still. How fcarfol

And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low!

The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air,

Shew scarce so gross at beetles. Half way down

Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade!

Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head.

The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,

Appear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark,

Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy

Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,

That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,

Cannot be heard so high. Ill look no more.

Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight

1 apple down headlong.

An Oppressed Country.

[SHAKESPEARE)

Alas, poor country,

Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot'

Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing,

But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;

Where sighs and groans, and shrieks that rend the air,

Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems

A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell

Is there scarce ask'd. for whom: and good men's lives.

Expire before the flowers in their caps,

Dying or ere they sicken.

Othello's Relation of his Courtship to the Senate.

{SHAKESPEARE.)

Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,

My very noble, and approv'd good masters;

That . have ta'en away this old man's daughter,

It is most true; true I have married her;

The very head and front of my offending

Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I in speech,

And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace;

For since these arms of mine had seven years' pitb,

Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have us'd

Their dearest action in the tented field!

And little of this great world can I speak,

More than pertains to feats of broils and battle;

And therefore little shall I grace my cause,

In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver,

Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what chasms,

"What conjuration, and what mighty magic,

(For such proceeding 1 am charg'd withal):

I won his daughter with

Her father lov'd me, oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my lire,
From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes,.
That 1 have past.

I ran it through, e'en from my boyish days,
To th' very moment that he bade rae tell it:
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field;
Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' th' imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
And with it all my travels' history.

********************

All these to hear,
Would Desdemona seriously incline;
But still the house-aSairs would draw her thence^

Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,

She'd come again, and with a greedy ear

Devour up my discourse: which I observing,

Took once a plianthour, and found good means

To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,

That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,

Whereof by parcels she had something heard,

But not distinctively; I did consent,

And often did beguile her of her tears,

When I did speak of some distressful stroke,

That my youth sufter'd. My story being done,

She gave me for my pains a world of sighs;

She swore in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange,

Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful

She wislrd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd

That heav'n had made her such a man;—she thank'd me,

And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,

I should but teach him how to tell my story,

And that would woo her. On this hint I spake;

She lov'd me for the dangers I had pa^t,

And I lov'd her, that she did pity them.

Reputation.

{shakespeare.) Good name in man or woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls; Who steals my purse steals trash, tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name, ilobs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.

Banishment, Consolation Under It. (shakespeaa.) All places that the eye of heaven visits, Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. Teach thy necessity to reason thus: There is no virtue like necessity, And think not, that the king did banish thee; But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier sit Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. Go say, I sent thee forth to purchase honour,

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