Have stood against the world ! now lies he there,
And done 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 knov, are honorable men.
I will not do them wrong-1 rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wrong such honorable men.
But here's a parchment with the seal of Cesar;
I found it in his closet; 'tis bis will.
Let but the commons hear this testament,
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read)
And they would go and kiss dead Cesar's wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy,
Unto their issue.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle : I remember
The first time ever Cesar put it on;
'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent,
That day he overcome the Nervii-
Look! in this place run 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 Cesar follow'd it!
This, this was the unkindest cut of all !
For when the noble Cesar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms,
Quite vanquish'd him! then burst his mighty heart,
And in his mantle muffling up his face,
E'en at the base of Pompey's statue,
(Which all the while ran Blood) great Cesar fell.
Ò what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and al} of us, fell down
Whilst bloody treason fleurished 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 behold
Our Cesar's vesture woulided? Look you here!
Here is himself-marr’d, as you see, by traitors.

Good friends! Sweet friends! Let me not stir you up
To such a sudden flood of mutiny!
They that have done this deed are honorable!
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it! They are wise and honorable,
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 love my friend-and that they knew full well,
That gave me public leave to speak of him!
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor 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 Cesar's wounds, poor, poor, dumb 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 Cesar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise in mutiny.
XXII.-Falstaff's Soliloquy on Honor.--HENRY IV.
WE heaven a death! Tis not due yet; and I

O him

need I be so forward with bim that calls not on me? Well,'tis no matter--honor pricks me on.-But how, if honor prick me off when I come on? How then ? Can honor set to a leg ? No; or an arm ? No; or take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honor bath no skill in surgery, then ? No. What is honor ? A word. What is that word honor ? Air; a trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that died a Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. It is insensible, then? 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. Honor is a mere 'scutcheon--and so ends my catechism. XXIII. - Part of Richard IIId's. Soliloquy the night preceding the battle of Bosworth.—TRAGEDY OF RICHARD III.

VIS 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 e'en the stars do wink, as 'twere, with over watching.
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 odor.
How awful is this gloom! and hark! From camp to camp
The hum of either army still sounds,
That the fix'd sentinels almost receive
The secret whisper of each other's watch!

A And we ende mense women, merely players

.

Steed threatens steed in high and boasting neighings,
Piercing the night's Jull enr. Hark! From the tents,
The armorers, accomplishing the knights,
With clink of hammer's closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation; while some,
Like sacrifices, by their åres of watch,
With patience sit, and inly ruminate,
The morning's danger. By yon heaven, my stern
Impatience chides this tardy gaited night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, dies limp
So tediously away. I'll to my couch,
And once more try to sleep her into morning.
XXIV.-The world compared to a Stage.

AS YOU LIKE IT.
LL the world is a stage ;
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 Schoolboy; with his sachel,
And shining morning face, creeping like a snail,
Unwillingly to school. And, then a Lover,
Sighing like furnace; with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow, Then a Soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard ;
Jealous in honor; 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

shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon ;
With Spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ;
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide
For his-shrunk shank; and his big mauly voice,
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventsul history,
Is second Childishness, and mere Oblivion:
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sang every thing.

APPENDIX.

CONCISE PASSAGES, EXEMPLIFYING CERTAIN PARTICULARS, ON

THE PROPER EXPRESSION OF WHICH, THE MODULATION AND MANAGEMENT OF THE VOICE IN READING AND SPELLING PRINCIPALLY DEPEND.

I.-E.camples of ANTITHESIS ; or, the Opposition of Words

or Sentiments.

1. THE THE manner of speaking is as important as the matter.

Chesterfield. 2. Cowards die many times; the valjant never taste of death but once. -Shakespeare.

3. Temperance, by fortifying the mind and body, leads to happiness ; intemperance, by enervating the mind and body, ends generally in misery.- -Art of Thinking.

4. Title and ancestry render a good man more illustrious; but an ill one more contemptible. Vice is infamous, though in a prince ; and virtue honorable, though in a peasant.- -Spectator.

5. Almost evrry object that attracts our notice, has its bright and its dark side. He who habituates himself to look at the displeasing side, will sour his disposition, and, consequently, impair his happiness ; while he who constantly beholds it on the bright side, insensibly ameliorates his temper, and, in cousequence of it, improves his own happiness, and the happiness of all around him.

World. 6. A wise man endeavors to shine in himself; a fool to outshine others. The former is humbled by the sense of his own infirmities; the latter is listed up by the discovery of those which he observes in others. The wise man considers what he wants; and the fool what he abounds in. The wise man is happy when he gains his own approbation; and the fool, when he recommends himself to the applause of those about him.- -Spectator.

7. Where opportunities of exercise are wanting, temperance may in a great measure snpply its place. If exercise throws off all superfluities, temperance prevents them ; if exercise clears the vessels, temperance neither satiates nor overstrains them ;-exereise raises proper ferments in the humors, and promotes the circulation of the blood, temperance gives nature her full play, and enables her to exert herself in all her force and vigor; if exercise dissipates a growing distepoper, temperance starves it..Speciator

572

EXAMPLES OF ANTITHESIS,

row.

8. I have always preferred cheerfulness to mirth. The latter I consider as an act, the former as a habit of the mind. Mirth is short and transient, cheerfulness fixed and permanent. Those are often raised into the greatest transports of mirth, who are subject to the greatest depressions of melancholy. On the contrary, cheerfulness, though it does not give the mind such an exquisite gladness, prevents us from falling into any depths of sor

Mirth is like a flash of lightning, that breaks through a gloom of clouds, and glitters for a moment: cheerfulness keeps up a kind of daylight in the mind, and fills it with a steady and perpetual serenity, -Spectator.

9. At the same time that I think discretion the most useful talent a man can be master of, I look upon cunning to be the accomplishment of little, mean, ungenerous minds. Discretion poin's out the noblest ends to us, and pursues the most proper and laud. able methods of attaining them; cunning has only private, selfish aims, and sticks at nothing which may make them succeed; discretion has large and extended views, and like a well formed eye, commands a whole horizon; cunning is a kind of shortsighted negs, that discovers the minutest objects which are near at hand, but is not able to discern things at a distance.- -Spectator.

10. Nothing is more amiable than true modesty, and nothing more contemptible than the false. The one guards virtue; the other betrays it. True modesty is ashamed to do any thing that is repugnant to the rules of right reason; false modesty is askamed to do any thing that is opposite to the humor of the company. True modesty avoids every thing that is criminal; false modesty every thing that is unfashionable. Tho latter is only a general undetermined instinct; the former is that instinct, limited and circumscribed by the rules of prudence and religion.Spectator,