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He shines for Altamont, and for Calista.
Take care my gates be open. Bid all welcome;
All who rejoice with me to-day are friends.
Let each indulge his genius : each be glad,
Jocund and free, and swell the feast with mirth.
The sprightly bowl shall cheerfully go round:
None shall be grave, nor too severely wise:
Losses and disappointments, care and poverty,
The rich man's insolence, and great man's scosh,
In wine shall he forgotten ai).-Fair Penitent.

4. All dark and comfortless.
Where all those various objects, that but now,
Employ'd my busy eyes? Where those eyes ?
These groping hands are now my only guides,
And feeling all my sight.
O ruisery! What words can sound my grief !
Shut from the living wbilat among the living :
Dark as the grave, amidst the bustling world ;
At once from business, and from pleasure barr'd;
No more to view the beauty of the spring,
Or see the face or kindred or of friend !--Trag. of Lear.

5. Thou speak'st a woman's ; hear a warrior's wish.
Right from their native land, the stormy north,
May the wind blow, till every keel is fix'd
Immoveable in Caledonia's sírand !
Then shall our foes repent their bold invasion,

And roving armies shun the fatal shore.-Trag. of Douglas. 6. Ah! Mercy on my soul! What's that? My old friend's ghost! They say, none but wicked folks walk. I wish I were at the bottom of a coalpit ! La! how pale, and how long his face is grown since his death! He never was handsome; and death bas very much improved him the wrong way.-Pray, do not come near me! I wished you very well when you were a. live. - But I could never abide a dead man cheek by jowl with me.--Ah! Ah! mercy on me! No nearer, pray! If it be only to take your leave of me, that you are come back, I could have excused you the ceremony with all my heart.- Or if you-mercy on us ! - No nearer, pray-or if you have wrong'd any body, as you always lov'd money a little, i give you the word of a frighted Christian, I will pras, as long as you please, for the deliverapce and repose of your departed soul. My good, worthy, no. ble friend, do, pray, disappear, as ever you would wish your old friend, Anselm, to come to his senses again.

Moliere's Blunderer. 7. Who can behold such beauty and be silent ! 0! I could ta!k to thee forever: Forever fix and gaze on those dear eyes ; For every giance they send darts through my soul – Orphan,

8. II like a fawning publican he looks ! I hate him for he is a Christian :

But more, for that in low simplicity
He lends out money gratis, and brings down
The rate of usance with us here in Venice..
If I can catch him once upon the hip,
I will feed fat that ancient grudge I bear him.
He hates our sacred nation ; and ta rails,
E'en there where the mercharts most do congregate,
On me, my bargains, and my well won thrift,
Which he calls usury. Cursed be my

tribe If I forgive him. Merchant of Venice.

9. As, in a theatre, the eyes of men,
After a well graced actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him who enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious;
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
Did scowl on Richard. No man cri’d, God save bim!
No joyful tongue gave him bis welcome home :
But dust was thrown upon bis sacred head!
Which, with such gentle sorrow, he shook off,
(His face still comhating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience ;)
Thal had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd
The hearts of men, they must perforce bave melted;
And barbarism itself have pitied him.-

Richard II.
10. Hear me, rash man, on thy allegiance hear me.
Since thou has striven to make us break our vow,
(Which not our nature nor our place can bear)
We banish thee forever from our sight
And kingdom. If, when three days are expired,

Thy hated trunk be found in our dominions,
That moment is thy death. Away!
By Jupiter this shall not be revokid, - Tragedy of Lear.

11. Ye amaranths! Ye roses, like the morn!
Sweet myrtles, and ye golden orange groves!
Joy giving, love inspiring, holy bower!
Know, in thy fragrant bosom, thou receiv'st
A murd'rer! Oh, I shall stain thy lilies,
And horror will usurp the seat of bliss ?

-Ha ! She sleeps
The day's uncommon beat has overcome her.
Then take, my longing eyes, your last full gaze-
Oh, what a sighit is here! How dreadful fair!
Who would not think that being innocent!
Where shall I strike? Who strikes her strikes himseli.
My own life's blood will issue at her wound
But see, she smiles ! I never shall smile morem
It sircusly tempts me to a parting kissa
Ha, smile again! She dreams of him she loves.--
Curse on her charms! I'll stab her through them all.




This book is under no circumstances to be

taken from the Building

MAR % 5 1917

form 410

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