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ANTONY'S ORATION AT CÆSAR'S FUNERAL.
“JULIUS CÆSAR,” Act III, Scene 2.
RIENDS, Romans, countrymen, lend me
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Cæsar. The noble Brutus Hath told you, Cæsar was ambitious : If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Cæsar answer'd it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest (For Brutus is an honorable man, So are they all, all honorable men), Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me: But Brutus says, he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honorable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransom did the general coffers fill: Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious ? When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff. Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honorable 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 honorable 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 withholds 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 Cæsar, And I must pause till it come back to me.
you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle : I remember The first time ever Cæsar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii. Look! in this place, ran Cassius' dagger through: See what a rent the envious Casca made : Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb’d; And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Cæsar follow'd it, As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd If Brutus so unkindly knock’d, or no; For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel : Judge, O you gods, how dearly Cæsar lov'd him! This was the most unkindest cut of all; For, when the noble Cæsar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty
heart; And, in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's statue, Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell. 0, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. 0, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity: these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what! weep you, when you but behold Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look you here, Here is himself, marr’d, as you see, with traitors.
But yesterday the word of Cæsar might
Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
mouths, And bid them speak for me: but, were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In every wound of Cæsar, that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
You will compel me, then, to read the will? Then make a ring about the corpse of Cæsar, And let me show you him that made the will.
SHYLOCK AND ANTONIO.
“ MERCHANT OF VENICE,” Act I, Scene 3. Antonio, to oblige his friend Bassanio, becomes his surety for repayment of a loan. Bassanio. This is Signior Antonio.
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, Shylock (aside). How like a fawning publican Say this: “Fair sir, you spit on me on Wedneshe looks!
day last; I hate him for he is a Christian ;
You spurned me such a day; another time But more for that in low simplicity
You called me dog ; and for these courtesies He lends out money gratis and brings down I'll lend you thus much moneys ?” The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
Ant. I am as like to call thee so again, If I can catch him once upon the hip,
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not He hates our sacred nation, and he rails,
As to thy friends; for when did friendship take Even there where merchants most do congregate, A breed for barren metal of his friend? On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, But lend it rather to thine enemy. Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, Who, if he break, thou mayest with better face If I forgive him.
Exact the penalty. Antonio. Shylock, although I neither lend nor Shy. Why, look you, how you storm ! borrow
I would be friends with
and have your love, By taking nor by giving of excess,
Forget the shames that you have stain'd Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
with, I'll break a custom.
Supply your present wants and take no doit Shy. Methought you said you neither lend nor Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear
This is kind I offer.
Bass. This were kindness.
This kindness will I show. sheep
Go with me to a notary, seal me there
In such a place, such sum or sums as are
Express'd in such condition, let the forfeit
your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken Ant. Mark you this, Bassanio,
In what part of your body pleaseth me. The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
Ant. Content i' faith : I'll seal to such a bond, An evil soul producing holy witness
And say there is much kindness in the Jew. Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,
Bass. You shall not sign to such a bond for A goodly apple rotten at the heart.
Shy. Signior Antonio, many time and oft I'll rather dwell in my necessity. In the Rialto you have rated me
Ant. Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it: About my money and my usances :
Within these two months—that's a month before Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
This bond expires—I do expect return For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.
Of thrice three times the value of this bond. You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,
are, And all for use of that which is mine own.
Whose own hard dealing teaches them suspect Well then, it now appears you need my help: The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell me this? Go too, then; you come to me and you say, If he should break his day, what should I gain? “Shylock, we would have moneys: you say so; A pound of man's flesh taken from a man You that did void your rheum upon my beard, Is not so estimable, profitable neither, And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say Over your threshold : moneys is your suit.
To buy his favor, I extend this friendship: What should I say to you? Should I not say, If he will take it, so; if not, adieu : “Hath a dog money? is it possible
And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. A cur can lend three thousand ducats?" or
Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
Shy. Then meet me henceforth at the notary's;
Of an unthrifty knave, and presently
HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY ON DEATH.
“ HAMLET," Act III, Scene 1. Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the question : | The pangs of disprized love, the law's delay, Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The insolence of office, and the spurns The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, That patient merit of the unworthy takes, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
When he himself might his quietus make And by opposing end them? To die,-to sleep, — With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels No more ; and, by a sleep, to say we end
bear, The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks To grunt and sweat under a weary life; That flesh is heir to,-'tis a consummation
But that the dread of something after death, Devoutly to be wished. To die,-to sleep ;- The undiscovered country, from whose bourn To sleep! perchance to dream ;-ay, there's the No traveler returns, puzzles the will;
And makes us rather bear those ills we have, For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, Than fly to others that we know not of? When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; Must give us pause: there's the respect,
And thus the native hue of resolution That makes calamity of so long life :
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, And enterprises of great pith and moment, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's con- With this regard, their currents turn awry, tumely,
And lose the name of action.
HAMLET AND THE GHOST.
“ HAMLET," Act I, Scene 4. Enter GHOST.
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ?
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we Hor. Look, my lord, it comes !
As if it some impartment did desire
It wafts you to a more removed ground :
But do not go with it. Thou comest in such a questionable shape,
Hor. No, by no means. That I will speak to thee; I'll call thee, Hamlet, Ham. It will not speak; then will I follow it. King, father, royal Dane : 0, answer me :
Hor. Do not, my lord. Let me not burst in ignorance ! but tell,
Ham. It wafts me still :Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, Go on, I'll follow thee. Have burst their cerements ! why the sepulchre, Where wilt thou lead me? speak, I'll go no Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urned,
further. Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws,
Ghost. Mark me.
When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames
Ham. Alas, poor ghost !
Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hear
Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear.
Ghost. I am thy father's spirit;
Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young
Ham. O heaven !
Rude am I in my
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, It is most true ; true, I have married her : Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used The very head and front of my offending Their dearest action in the tented field,
And little of this great world can I speak,
patience, I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what
A maiden never bold;
on ! It is a judgment maim'd and most imperfect That will confess perfection so could err Against all rules of nature, and must be driven To find out practices of cunning hell, Why this should be. I therefore vouch again That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood, Or with some dram conjured to this effect, He wrought upon her. Duke.
To vouch this, is no proof, Without more wider or more overt test Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods Of modern seeming do prefer against him.
First Sen. But, Othello, speak; Did you by indirect and forced courses Subdue and poison this young maid's affections ? Or came it by request and such fair question As soul to soul affordeth ?
Duke. Say it, Othello.
Othello. Her father lov'd me ; oft invited me; Still question'd me the story of my life, From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have pass'd. I ran it through, even from my boyish days, To the very moment that he bade me tell it:
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
heaven, It was my hint to speak,—such was the process ; And of the Cannibals that each other eat, The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear Would Desdemona seriously incline, But still the house-affairs would draw her thence: Which ever as she could with haste despatch, She’ld come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse: which I observing, Took once a pliant hour, 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 intentively: I did consent, And often did beguile her of her tears, When I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth suffer'd. My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: She swore,—it faith, 't was strange, 't was passing
strange ; ’T was pitiful, 't was wondrous pitiful : She wish'd she had not heard it; yet she wish'd That Heaven had made her such a man: she