My lamentation shear'st thy wretcheds wifeno4 bаA Weep for her husband slain, her infant lost. My brother's timeless death I seem to mourn, 12 £. Who perish'd with thee on this fatal day. To thee lift my voice; to thee address i The plaint, which mortal ear has never heard.ont ya Oh! disregard me not. Though I am call'de Another's now, my heart is wholly thine. qu Incapable of change, affection lies uz pelqer Buried, my Douglas, in thy bloody grave. zone
FRIENDS, Romans, Countrymen !-lend me your ears. 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!-Noble Brutus b Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious s If it was 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 honourable man!
So are they all! all honourable men— Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me But Brutus says she was ambitious- And Brutus is an honourable man!
He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms 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 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 or es enturd 10] And sure he is an honourable man 162 97 9,9gbal I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke
But here I am to speak what I do know, now 101 You all did love him once; not without causesgl What causer withholds you then to mourn for him?) O judgment thou art fled to brutish beasts, mi buk And men have lost their reason!Bear with me? A My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar;77 And I must p pause till it come back to me! But yesterday the word of Cæsar might Have stood against the world now lies he there, And none so poor as do him reverence ! #58 (40) O masters! if I were dispos'd to stiratalo tub sul Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,noe bmi I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, I? Who, you all know are honourable men det st5H I will not do them wrong: I rather chooseeco To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and yougie Than I will wrong such honourable men! god! But here's a parchment with the seal of Cæsared?? I found it in his closet 'tis his will !. sanm terT Let but the commons hear his testament w baż Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read, smo> I And they will go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds, & I And dip their napkins in his sacred blood Jua Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, i derivoi tad'I And, dying, mention it within their wills, ng dan I Bequeathing it as a rich legacy vent of azed I 707 Unto their issue ligh
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now!': T You all do know this mantle? I remember og list I The first time ever Cæsar put it on ;laws Joy Wode 'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent-labout That day he overcame the Nervi !96a bid bnz Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through See what a rent the envious Casca made! Elo7/ Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'dło ni And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, 9.11 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!— Mi Judge, O ye gods, how dearly Cæsar lov'd him!bora This, this was the unkindest cut of all; on Azoge 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, ona bo' Even at the base of Pompey's statue
Which all the while ran blood-Great Cæsar fell!·· Oh what a fall was there, my countrymen !! Then I, and you, and all of us, fell down;14, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us! Oh, now you weep, and I perceive you The dint of pity these are gracious dropskom Kind souls! what! weep you when you but behold Our Cæsar's vesture wounded?—look you heredar Here is himself-marr'd as you see, by traitors!
Good friends! sweet friends! let me not stir you To such a sudden flood of mutiny!
[up They that have done this deed are honourable !---- What private griefs they have, alas! I know not, That made them do it: they are wise and honourable, And will, no doubt, with reason answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator as Brutus is;
But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That loves his friend-and that they know full well, That gave me public leave to speak of him— For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 16,3 Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,-*|| To stir men's blood: I only speak right on!
I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor, dumb mouths!« egin
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 t The stones of Rome to rise in mutiny !o«
The sentence, I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him, is no
ticed in the introduction, p. 25. We consider the two parts into which it is divided as intimately connected ;-that there is ΠΟ idea beyond him, to which the speaker wishes the hearer to attention; and, consequently, y, the falling inflection, which, less governed by emphasis, unexceptionably acts on the principle of complete sense, is inevitable;" in other words, that all such negative members necessarily demand the falling inflection.
To try me with misfortune-had it rain'd All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head, Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips,
Given to adversity me and my utmost hopes I should have found in some part of my soul
A drop of patience! But, alas! to make memå A fixed figure for the hand of scorn
To point its slow unmoving finger at!
Yet could I bear that!-well!-very well!
But there, where I had garner'd up my heart.. Where either I must live, or bear no life
The fountain from which my current runs, Or else dries up-to be discarded thence Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads To knot and gender in!-
Turn thy complexion there,
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim ! Ay, there-look black as hell!
Wizard. Lochiel! Lochiel! beware of the day When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array! For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight, And the claus of Culloden are scatter'd in fight:
They rally they bleed! for their kingdom and
Woe, woe, to the riders that trample them down! Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain,og cen And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.10 But hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of war, What steed to the desert flies frantic and far?
'Tis thine, O Glenullin! whose bride shall await, Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate. A steed comes at morning: no rider is there ; But its bridle is red with the sign of despair. Weep, Albin! to death and captivity led!
Oh weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead For a merciless sword o'er Culloden shall wave, Culloden that reeks with the blood of the brave. Lochiel. Go preach to the coward, thou death- telling seer!
"Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear,
Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight! This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright. A Wizard.-Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to
Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn! Say, rush'd the bold eagle exultingly forth, From his home, in the dark-rolling clouds of the north,
Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode Companionless, bearing destruction abroad;
But down let him stoop from his havoc on high! Ah! home let him speed-for the spoiler is nigh. Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast! Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven From his eyry, that beacons the darkness of heaven. Oh, crested Lochiel! the peerless in might, Whose banners arise on the battlement's height, Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn; Return to thy dwelling all lonely!-return!
For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood, And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood. Lochiel. False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshall'd în pat ng gdt b4f my clan!
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