was at all comparable to that which Shakespeare has created for him:

"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. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Cæsar answered 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;
But 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 ?

O 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.

But yesterday the word of Cæsar might

Have stood against the world;-now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.

O masters! if I were disposed 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 bair of him for memory,

And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy

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 follow'd 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, O 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 traitor's arms,

Quite vanquished 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.
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen !
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.
O, 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, 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 honourable;
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it; they are wise and honourable,
And will, no doubt, with reasons 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 know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him.
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action nor utterance, nor the 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 Cæsar'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 Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny."

THE

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.

HE death of Cæsar (B.c. 44) left Antony master of Rome. But a rival soon appeared in the person of Octavius, Cæsar's nephew and heir. Indeed, this Octavius was destined to reign as the first emperor of Rome, under the title of Cæsar Augustus. After the defeat and death of Brutus and Cassius at Philippi, Mark Antony and his rival divided the Roman world between them, Antony taking for his share the eastern provinces, and Octavius the western.

Antony at once proceeded to make a tour through his dominions. At Tarsus he received a visit which proved his utter ruin. This was from Cleopatra, queen of Egypt, who had so long exercised her sway over the heart of the great Cæsar. She now came to meet Antony at Tarsus, resolved to conquer by her wit and beauty. She sailed along the river Cydnus1 in a most magnificent galley. The stern was covered with gold, the sails were of purple, and the oars were silver. These, in their motion, kept time to the music of flutes, and pipes, and harps. The queen, in the dress and character of Venus, lay under a canopy embroidered with gold, of the most exquisite workmanship, while boys, like painted Cupids, stood fanning her on each side of the sofa. Her maids were of the most distinguished beauty, and, habited like the Nereids and Graces, assisted in the steerage and conduct of the vessel. The fragrance of burning incense was diffused along the shores, which were covered with multitudes of people.

8

The queen invited the Roman ruler to her ship, and he complied. From that moment he was her slave, and lent his power to execute all her caprices. Oc

casionally he broke the silken cord of the enchantress, and took the field as a veteran warrior. It is remarkable how this brave soldier, amid the hardships of war, could shake off his luxurious habits, and how cheerfully he would share with the meanest soldier all the toils and privations of the most disastrous campaign.

66

At length he sunk into an indolent voluptuary, and whiled away his time in silly amusements. At Alexandria, the capital of the infamous Cleopatra, the veteran warrior fell into every idle excess, and offered at the shrine of luxury what a philosopher has called the greatest of all sacrifices-the sacrifice of time. They visited each other on alternate days, and the profusion of their entertainments is almost incredible. Plutarch tells, in illustration of this remark, a story told to his grandfather by Philotas, a physician at that time studying at Alexandria. Being acquainted with one of Antony's cooks, he was invited to see the preparations for supper. When he came into the kitchen he observed, beside an infinite variety of other provisions, eight wild boars roasting whole, and expressed his surprise at the number of the company for whom this enormous provision must have been made. The cook laughed, and said that the company did not exceed twelve; but that as every dish was to be roasted to a single turn, and as he was uncertain as to the time when Antony might wish to sup, it was necessary to have a succession of suppers in readiness."

G

While Antony was rapidly losing the respect of the Romans by his worthless frivolous life, under the influence of Cleopatra's fascinating wit and manner, his rival (now called Octavian) was winning golden opinions by his patient industry and resolute persever. ance in the administration of his government. Before