MARK ANTONY OVER CÆSAR'S BODY.

Ant. 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
Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious;
If it were 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;
Yet Brutus says he 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 ;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke;

But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?

Oh, judgment! thou art fled 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.

First Cit. Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.

Sec. Cit. If thou consider rightly of the matter,

Cæsar has had great wrong.

Third Cit. Has he, masters? I fear there will a worse come in his place. Fourth Cit. Mark'd ye his words? He would not take the crown; Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious.

First Cit. If it be found so, some will dear abide it.
Sec. Cit. Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with weeping.
Third Cit. There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony.
Fourth Cit. Now, mark him, he begins again to speak.

Ant. But yesterday, the word of Cæsar might

Have stood against the world; now lies he there,

And none so poor to do him reverence.

Oh, 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: I 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 Cæsar:
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 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.

Fourth Cit. We'll hear the will; read it, Mark Antony.
All. The will! the will! We will hear Cæsar's will!
Ant. Have patience, gentle friends! I must not read it;
It is not meet you know how Cæsar lov'd you.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;
And, being men, hearing the will of Cæsar,

It will inflame you, it will make you mad.

'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs ; For if you should, Oh, what would come of it!

Fourth Cit. Read the will; we will hear it, Antony: You shall read us the will; Cæsar's will!

Ant. Will you be patient? will you stay awhile?

I have o'ershot myself, to tell you of it.

I fear I wrong the honourable men

Whose daggers have stabb'd Cæsar. I do fear it.

Fourth Cit. They were traitors. Honourable men!

All. The will! the testament!

Sec. Cit. They were villains, murderers! The will! Read the will!
Ant. You will compel me, then, to read the will?

Then make a ring about the corpse of Cæsar,
And let me show you him that made the will.

Shall I descend? And will you give me leave?
All.

Come down.

Sec. Cit. Descend.

Third Cit. You shall have leave.

Fourth Cit. A ring! Stand round!

[He comes down from the pulpit.]

First Cit. Stand from the hearse, stand from the body.

Sec. Cit. Room for Antony--most noble Antony!

Ant. Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off.

All. Stand back! room! bear back!

Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed 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 Cassius' dagger through ;
See, what a rent the envious Casca made!
Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd;
And, as he plucked his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar followed 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;

Judge, Oh you gods! how dearly Cæsar lov'd him.
This was the most unkindest cut of all;

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,

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,
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.

Oh, 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 Cæsar's vesture wounded! Look you here!
Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.
First Cit. O piteous spectacle !

Sec. Cit. O noble Cæsar!

Third Cit. O woful day!

Fourth Cit. O traitors! villains!

First Cit. O most bloody sight!

Sec Cit. We will be reveng'd! Revenge! About--seek-burn-firekill-slay! Let not a traitor live!

[Julius Cæsar.}

The plays of Shakspeare which we have not had occasion, in the course of our remarks, to notice, and those from which we have made no selections, are the following:-Comedy of Errors, Love's Labour Lost, Taming of the Shrew, King John, All's Well that Ends Well, Troilus and Cressida, Timon of Athens, Cymbeline, Coriolanus, and the Winter's Tale. He was the author of numerous Sonnets also, many of which are marked by peculiar delicacy and beauty.

Lecture the Fourteenth.

BEN JONSON-FRANCIS BEAUMONT-JOHN FLETCHER.

THE second place in the dramatic literature of this important period, has been usually assigned to Jonson, though some writers may be disposed to claim it for the more Shaksperian genius of Beaumont and Fletcher.

BEN JONSON was descended from Scottish ancestry, and was born at Westminster, in 1574. His early life was full of trials and vicissitudes. His father, a clergyman, died one month before the future poet's birth, and his mother, marrying, some years after, a bricklayer, Ben, who had now been, for some time, at Westminster school, preparing for the university, was taken thence by his step-father, and placed at his own employment. Feeling degraded by this change, and sooner than submit to it, he abandoned his home, and though not fifteen years of age, enlisted in the army then forming for service in Holland. He is reputed to have killed, while abroad, one of the enemy in single combat, in the view of both armies, and to have otherwise distinguished himself by his youthful bravery.

Soon after his return to England, Jonson entered St. John's College, Cambridge; but in consequence of his straitened circumstances, he remained there only a very short time, and in the twentieth year of his age repaired to London, and resorted to the stage. He made his first appearance at a low theatre near Clerkenwell, and, as his opponents afterward reminded him, failed completely as an actor. About the same time he commenced writing for the stage, either by himself, or conjointly with others. He soon after quarreled with another performer, and a duel being the consequence, Jonson had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, and to be severely wounded himself. He was committed to prison on a charge of murder, but was released without being brought to trial. After he regained his liberty, he relinquished the stage, as an actor, and in 1596, when in the twenty-third year of his age, produced his first important drama, Every Man in his HuThe scene of the play was laid in Italy, but the characters and manners which it exhibited were exclusively English. Jonson afterward recast the whole, and transferred the scene itself also to England. In its revised

mour.

form, ‘Every Man in his Humour' was brought out at the Globe Theatre, in 1598, and Shakspeare performed one of the prominent characters. He had himself, previous to this time, produced some of his finest comedies, but Jonson was no imitator of his great rival, who blended a spirit of poetic romance with his comic sketches, and made no attempt to delineate the domestic manners of his countrymen. Jonson opened a new walk in the drama: he felt his strength, and the public cheered him on with its plaudits. Queen Elizabeth patronized the new poet, and ever afterwards he was a man of mark and likelihood.' In 1599, appeared his Every Man out of his Humour, which was a less able performance than its predecessor. Cynthia's Revels, and the Poetaster, followed; and the fierce rivalry and contention which clouded Jonson's after-life seem to have begun about this time. He had, in the Poetaster, attacked Marston and Dekker, two of his brother dramatists, with much severity. Dekker replied with spirit in his Satiromastix, and Jonson was silent during the following two years, 'living upon one Townsend, and scorning the world,' as is recorded in the diary of a contemporary.

In 1603, Jonson tried 'if tragedy had a more kind aspect,' and produced his classic drama of Sejanus. Shortly after the accession of King James, a comedy called Eastward Hoe, was written conjointly by Jonson, Chapman, and Marston. Some passages in this play reflected on the Scottish nation, and the matter was represented to the king by Sir James Murray, one of his courtiers, in so strong a light, that the authors were apprehended, thrown into prison, and threatened with the loss of their cars and noses. They were not tried, however; and the presumption is, that what was, at first, regarded as severe satire, was nothing more than playful wit. Jonson's three great comedies, Volpone, or the Fox, Epicene, or the Silent Woman, and The Alchemist, were his next serious performances; and in 1611, appeared Catiline, his second classical tragedy. His fame had now reached its highest elevation; but he produced several other comedies, and a vast number of court entertainments, before his star began sensibly to decline. In 1619, he received the appointment of poet laureate, with an annual pension of a hundred marks; and, during the same year, he made a journey on foot to Scotland, where he had many friends. He was well received by the Scottish gentry, and was so much pleased with the country, that he designed a poem. on the beauties of Loch-lomond. The last of his visits was made to Drummond, of Hawthornden, with whom he passed three weeks, and Drummond kept notes of his conversation, which, in a subsequent age, were communicated to the world, not much to the credit of either host or guest.

The latter days of Jonson form a striking contrast with those of Shak speare, being dark and painful in the extreme. Frequent attacks of palsy confined him to his house, and having, by his prodigality, squandered the proceeds of his literary labors as fast as they were received, his necessities compelled him to write for the stage when his pen had lost its vigor, and wanted the charm of novelty. In 1630, he produced his comedy, the New