Environed me, and howlèd in mine ears Clar. Ah! Brakenbury, I have done these things, For Edward's sake; and, see how he requites me! Oh, spare my guiltlèss wife, and my poor children!- My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. Brak. I will, my lord; God give your grace good rest!— [CLARENCE reposing himself on a chair. Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night. An outward honor for an inward toil : And, for unfelt imaginations, They often feel a world of restless cares : So that between their titles and low name, SHAKSPEARE. WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, one of the greatest of all poets, was born at Stratfordon-Avon, Warwick County, England, in April, 1564. His father, John Shakspeare, a woolcomber or glover, rose to be high bailiff and chief alderman of Stratford. William is supposed to have received his early education at the grammar-school in his native town. We have no trace how he was employed between his school-days and manhood. Some hold that he was an attorney's clerk. Doubtless he was a hard, though perhaps an irregular student. He married Anne Hathaway in 1582, and soon after became connected with the Blackfriar's Theater, in London, to which city he removed in 1586 or 1587. Two years subsequent he was a joint proprietor of that theater, with four others below him in the list. Though we know nothing of the date of his first play, he had most probably begun to write long before he left Stratford. Of his thirty-seven plays, the existence of thirty-one is defined by contemporary records. He became rich in the theaters, with which he ceased to be connected about 1609. He had previously purchased the principal house in his native town, where he passed the residue of his life, and died in April, 1616. We can only refer students that wish to know more of this great poet, to his writings, an extended description of which is rendered unnecessary by the selection immediately preceding the above. V. 123. NORVAL. Enter first GLENALVON; and soon after, NORVAL. G looking off at some distant object. The latter seems LENALVON. His port I love; he's in a proper mood Norval. Glen. Thou talk'st it well; no leader of our host Norv. If I should e'er acquire a leader's name, My speech will be less ardent. Novelty Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration Vents itself freely; since no part is mine Of praise pertaining to the great in arms. Glen. You wrong yourself, brave sir; your martial deeds Have ranked you with the great. But mark me, Norval, Lord Randolph's favor now exalts your youth Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you. Norv. Sir, I have been accustomed, all my days, Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel, Glen. I did not mean To gall your pride, which now I see is great. Norv. My pride! Glen. If thus you swell, and frown at high-born men, Glen. [Right.] Why yes, if you presume To bend on soldiers those disdainful eyes Nerv. Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self? Norv. Didst thou not hear? Glen. Unwillingly I did; a nobler foe Had not been questioned thus; but such as thou-- Glen. Norv. Norval. So I am ; And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes? Glen. A peasant's son, a wandering beggar boy; At best no more, even if he speaks the truth. Norv. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my truth? I have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval Is of a race who strive not but with deeds. [Crosses R. Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valor, And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword, I'd tell thee-what thou art. I know thee well. Glen. [L.] Dost thou not know Glenalvon born to command Ten thousand slaves like thee? Norv. Villain, no more! Draw, and defend thy life. I did design But heaven accelerates its vengeance on thee. [Both draw their swords. Enter LORD RANDOLPH, R. Lord Randolph. Hold! I command you both! the man that stirs Makes me his foe. Norv. Another voice than thine That threat had vainly sounded, noble Randolph. Glen. Hear him, my lord; he's wondrous condescending! Mark the humility of shepherd Norval! Norv. Now you may scoff in safety. [Both sheathe their swords. Lord R. [R.] Speak not thus, Taunting each other, but unfold to me The cause of quarrel; then I judge betwixt you. Norv. Nay, my good lord, though I revere you much, Lord R. Thus far I'll mediate with impartial voice: The ancient foe of Caledonia's land Now waves his banner o'er her frighted fields; Suspend your purpose till your country's arms Let not our variance mar the social hour, Nor wrong the hospitality of Randolph. Shall stain my countenance. Smooth thou thy brow; Norv. Think not so lightly, sir, of my resentment: When we contend again, our strife is mortal. [Exeunt GLEN., Norv. HOME. JOHN HOME, author of "Douglas" and various other tragedies, was born at Leith, Scotland, in 1722. He entered the Church, and succeeded Blair, author of "The Grave," as minister of Athelstaneford. After writing "Douglas," so violent a storm was raised by the fact that a Presbyterian minister had written a play, that he was obliged to resign his living. Lord Bute rewarded him with the sinecure office of conservator of Scots privileges at Campvere, and on the accession of George III., in 1760, he secured a pension for the poet of £300 per annum. With an income of some £600, and the friendship of David Hume, Blair, Robertson, and other distinguished men, Home's life was passed in happy tranquillity. He died in 1808, aged eighty-six. CIC VI. 124. SCENE FROM CATILINE. [In the Senate.] ICERO. Our long dispute must close. Take one proof mōre Has been commanded to attend the senate. He dares not come. I now demand your votes!— Is he condemned to exile? [CATILINE comes in hastily, and flings himself on the bench; all the senators go over to the other side. Cicero. [turning to CATILINE]. Here I repeat the charge, to gods and men, Of treasons manifold;-that, but this day, 1 Lucius Sergius Catiline, the descendant of an ancient and patrician family in Rome, whose youth and manhood were stained by every vice and crime. He was prætor in B. C. 68, was governor of Africa during the following year, and returned to Rome in 66, to sue for the consulship. Disqualified for a candidate, by an impeachment for oppression in his province, and frustrated in a conspiracy to kill the new consuls, he organized the extensive conspiracy in which the scene here given occurs. The history of this conspiracy, which ended by the death of Catiline, in a decisive battle fought early in 62, has been written by Sallust. He was a man of great mental and physical powers, without moral qualities. |