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THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank !
The quality of mercy is not strain'd;
It is an attribute to God himself ;
SPEECH OF BRUTUS.
hat friend demanot that I lovether
ROMANS, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause; and be silent, that you may hear : believe me for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe : censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Cesar was no less than his. If, then, that friend demand, why Brutus rose against Cesar? this is my answer: not that I loved Cesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cesar were living, and die all slaves, than that Cesar were dead, to live all freemen. As Cesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honour for his valour, and death for his ambition. Who is here so base, that would be a bondman ? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that would not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offenderl. I pause for a reply.
HENRY THE FOURTH'S SOLILOQUY ON
How many thousands of my poorest subjects
THE SEVEN AGES.
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 schoolboy, with his satchel, And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school; and then, the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad, Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then, the 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 lined, 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 saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shanks; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound : Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness, and mere oblivion : Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
BALLANTYNE, ROBERTS, AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.