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He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ranioms did the general coffers fill :
Did this in Cæfar seem ambitious ?
When that the poor have cried, Cæfar hath wept :
Ambition should be made of ilerner 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, fure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus fpoke;
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once"; not without caufe :
What cause with-holds you then to mourn for him?
judgment ! hou art fied 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.
But yesterday the word of Cæsar might
Have food against the world: now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.
O Masters ! if I were dispos’d to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong ;
Who, you all know, are honourable men.
I will not do them wrong: 1 rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wrong such honourable men.
But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cæfar:
I found it in his closet : 'tis his will,
Let but the commons hear this testament,
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read),
And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds,
And dip their napkins in his facred blood;
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And, dying, inention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy.
Unto their issue.
If you have tears, prepare to Med 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 Caffius' 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 Cäfar follow'd it!
This, this was the unkindest cut of all :
For when the noble Cæsar saw him ftab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors arms,
Quite vanquith'd him; then burst his mighty heart; -
And, in his mantle muffing up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's ftatue
(Which all the white ran blood) —great Cæsar fell.
Òwhat a fall was there, my countrymen !
Then I, and you, and all of us, felt down ;
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.
O, 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 Cæfar's vesture wounded ?-look you here!
Here is himself-marr'd as you see, by traitors.--
Good friends! fweet friends! let me not stir you up
To such a sudden flood of mutiny :
They that have done this deed are honourable :
What private griefs they have, alas, I know rot,
That made them do it: they are wise and honourable,
And wills 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 love my friend; and that they know full well,
That gave me public leave to fpeak of himn :
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worti,
Action, nor utt'rance, nor the power of speech,
To stir mens blood ; I only speak right on.
I tell you that which you yourfelves do know;
Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor di mb
mouths, And bid them speak for me. But, were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, ihere were an Antony
Would ruffle up your fpirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
XXIII. Falstaf's Description of his Soldiers.
IF I be not asham’d of my foldiers, I am a fowced gur-
net. . I have misus'd the King's press damnably. I have got in exchange of an hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and add pounds. I press me none but good householders, yeomen's fons; inquire me out con. tracted bachelors, such as have been asked twice on the banns ; such a commodity of warm flaves, as had as lief hear the devil as a drum ; such as fear the report of a culverin, worse than a struck deer or a hurt wild-duck. I press me none but such toasts in buttet, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins? heads; and they bought out their services : and now my whole charge consists of slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his fores; discarded unjust ferą. vingmen, younger fons to younger brothers, revolted tapiters, and oftlers trade-fallen, the caukers of a calm world and a long peace; and such have I'to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services, that you would think I had a hundred and fifty tattered pro. digals, lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and húsks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me, I had unloaded all the gibbets, and press'd the dead bodies. No eye hath seen fuch scare-crows. I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat. Nay, and, the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves-on ; for indeed I had the most of them out of prison. There's but a flirt and a half in all my company, and the half-shirt is two napkins tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves ; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host of St Albans, or the red-nofed inn-keeper of Daintry. But that's all one, they'll find linen enough op every hedge.
XXIV. Falstaff's Soliloquy on Honour. WE Heaven a death!—'Tis not due yet; and I would be loath_to, pay him before his day. What need I:
be so forward with him that calls not on me?-Well, 'tis no matter-honour pricks ine on. But how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm ? no: or take away the grief of a wound ? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery then?
What is honour? a word. What is that word honour air ; a trim reckoning. Who hath it?, he that died a Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. Is it insensible theu ? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living ? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore, I'll none of it. Honour is a mere 'scutcheon--and so ends my catechism. XXV. Part of Richard IIld's foliloquy the Night preceda
ing the Battle of Bosworth. 'Tis 'IS now the dead of night, and half the world
Is with a lonely solemn darkness hung ; Yet I (so coy a dame is sleep to me) With all the weary courtship of My care-tir'd thoughts, can't win her to my bed, Though ev’n the stars do wink, as 'twere, with over
I'll forth and walk a while. --The air's refreshing,
And the ripe harvest of the new-mown hay
Gives it a sweet and wholesome odour.
How awful is this gloom land bark! from camp to.
The hum of either army stilly founds,
That the fix'd centinels almoft receive
Tbe secret whispers of each other's watch:
Steed threatens steed in high and boastful neighings,
Piercing the night's dull ear.--Hark! from the tents,
The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
With clink of hammers: closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation; while some,
Like facrifices, by their fires of watch,
With patience fit, and inly ruminate
The morning's danger. By yon Heav'n, my stern
Impatience chides, this tardy-gated night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, does. Jimp
So tedioufly away. I'll to my couch,
And once more, try to fleep her into morning,
XXVI. The World compared to a Stage.
ALL the world's a stage ;
And all the men and women, merely players.
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man, in his time, plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.-- At first, the Infant;
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.-
And, then, the whining School-boy; with his satchel
And thining morning face, creeping, like snail,
Unwillingly to school. And, then, the Lover;
Sighing like furnace; with a woeful ballad.
Made to his mistress' eye-brow. -Then, a Soldier ;
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard ;
Jealous in honour ; sudden and quick in quarrel;
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And, then, the Justice ; :
In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd;
With eyes severe, and beard of formal-cut;
Full of wise saws and modern instances :
And so he plays his part.--The sixth age
Into the lean and flipper'd Pantaloon ;
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on lide ;
His youthful kofe, well lay'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk fhank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his found. -Lait scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second Childishness, and mere Oblivion ;
Sans teeth, fans eyes, fans tafte, fans every thing