My people suffer. I will take that scroll
And place it on the altar of my memory,
Till with a bounteous will all be redress'd.
But for this false concoction of pure malice,
Brought to me here by such a messenger—
Thee, who dost truckle for the wealth and title
Which you denounce so roundly from the hustings-
A mouthing patriot with an itching palm;
In one hand menace, in the other greed-

For such a lie its proper place is there.

(Dashes paper on the floor and stamps on it.)

There is a trust placed in my hand by God;
I will not barter it to hirelings!

Crom. If we be hirelings, we do not flee

When the wolf cometh. Yea, we shall stand fast.
Treaties on treaties have we offer'd thee;
And thou hast palter'd with us year by year.
"Thou chosen champion of our holy Church
Hath ope'd the back door to the Jesuit.
Thy letters have been seized upon the sea,
And out of thine own lips shall we impeach thee:
Thou art the rotten keystone in the arch

Of English liberty. Thou art the patch

On our new garment

Beware, or we shall hew that keystone out;
Take heed, or we shall rend that patch away,
And cast it in the fire, if needs we must!
King. Uncover in the presence of the King!

(Puts on his hat.)

(CROMWELL sullenly uncovers.)

Under our favour, sir, you have spoken much,
Too much, and with a noisy license here
Had cost a better gentleman his head.
Thou hast done more to brace my arm anew
And raise my sinking heart, than thou canst wot of.
If I believed by yielding up my crown,
Peace would descend on this unhappy land,

I think I know, I should not shrink from it.
But no, the sacrifice were worse than vain.
Now thou art pleased to drop thy patriot mask
Methinks I see a modern Attila !

One, who if once our dynasty should wane,
Would rally to the front with iron truncheon ;
A tyrant, maundering and merciless;
Anarch of Liberty! At heart a slave!

A scourge, the Commons' plait to lash themselves;
A heel to tramp their constitution down.
Thou and thy dupes have driven me to war,
And on thy conscience fall its fell account!

Crom. Charles Stuart! Thyself shalt bear this message back. (IRETON beckons on Soldiers.)

King. Traitor! Is this thy faith?
Crom. Advance! Do him no violence.

(Draws his sword.)

King. (Throwing down his sword.) I am alone! and will not call my friends.

Which of you touches his anointed King? (Soldiers hold back.) Crom. (Drawing.) In God's name, that will I.

Enter the QUEEN.

Queen. (Waving her handkerchief.) God save the King!

Enter HUNTLY and strong force of Cavaliers.

Cavaliers. God save the King!

[CROMWELL and his Soldiers form on one side, HUNTLY and his Cavaliers on the other.

(By permission of the Author.)

THE REPROACH OF CHARLES THE FIRST TO HIS BETRAYER.

W. G. WILLS.

[See p. 386.]

[MORAY approaches with downcast head, and gradually sinks on his knee before the KING, during his speech.

I SAW a picture once by a great master,

'Twas an old man's head.

Narrow and evil was its wrinkled front-
Eyes close and cunning: a dull vulpine smile.
'Twas called a Judas! Wide that painter erred.
Judas had eyes like thine, of candid blue;
His skin was smooth, his hair of youthful gold;
Upon his brow shone the white stamp of truth;
And lips like thine did give the traitor kiss!
The King, my father, loved thine-and at his death
He gave me solemn charge to cherish thee.
And I have kept it to my injury.

It is a score of years since then, my lord.
Hast waited all this time to pay me thus ?

[CHARLES turns to CROMWELL. Sir, you demand my sword. I yield it you!

(By permission of the Author.)

SPEECHES AND SOLILOQUIES.

DRAMATIC.

HAMLET'S ADVICE TO THE PLAYERS.

SHAKSPEARE.

[See page 312.]

SPEAK the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus; but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance, that may give it smoothness. O! it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings; who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows, and noise; I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it outherods Herod; pray you avoid it.

Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor : suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature; for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first, and now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time, his form and pressure. Now, this overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of which one must, in your allowance, o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O! there be players, that I have seen play-and heard others praise, and that highly-not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted, and bellowed, that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made them, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.

Ŏ! reform it altogether. And let those, that play your clowns, speak no more than is set down for them: for there be of them, that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too; though in the meantime some necessary question of the play be then to be considered: that's villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.

OTHELLO'S ADDRESS TO THE SENATE.

SHAKSPEARE.

[See page 312.]

MOST potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble and approved good masters,—
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true; true, I have married her;

The

very head and front of my offending

Hath this extent, no more. Řude am Ï in my speech,
And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace;
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
Their dearest action in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broils and battle;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,

In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,
I will a round unvarnished tale deliver

Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic

(For such proceeding I am charged withal),

I won his daughter.

I do beseech you,

Send for the lady to the Sagittary,

And let her speak of me before her father:
If you do find me foul in her report,

The trust, the office, I do hold of

you,

Not only take away, but let your sentence

Even fall upon my life.

Ancient, conduct them: you best know the place. And, till she come, as truly as to heaven

I do confess the vices of my blood,

So justly to your grave ears I'll present
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love,
And she in mine.

Her father loved me; oft invited me;
Still questioned me the story of my life,
From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortune,
That I have passed,

I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it.
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances:
Of moving accidents by flood and field;

Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach ;
Of being taken by the insolent foe

And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,

And portance. In my traveller's history

(Wherein of antres vast, and desarts idle,*

Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint to speak), such was my process;—

And of the Cannibals that each other eat,

The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads

Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline;

But still the house affairs would draw her thence;
Which ever as she could with haste despatch,
She'd 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 suffered. My story being done,

She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:

She swore,-In faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful :

She wished she had not heard it; yet she wished

That heaven had made her such a man: she thanked me:

And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,

I should but teach him how to tell my story,

And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
She loved me for the dangers I had passed;

And I loved her that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have used;
Here comes the lady, let her witness it.

HOTSPUR'S ACCOUNT OF THE FOP.
SHAKSPEARE.

[See page 312.]

My liege, I did deny no prisoners.

But I remember, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword.
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd,
Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin, new reap'd,
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest home.
He was perfumed like a milliner;

And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held

* Sterile, barren.