But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; Where sighs and groans, and shrieks that rend the

air,

Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstacy; the dead man's knell

Is there scarce ask'd for whom: and good men's lives

Expire before the flowers in their caps;
Dying or e'er the sicken.

MACD. Oh, relation

Too nice, and yet too true!

MAL. What's the newest grief?

Ros. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker, Each minute teems a new one..

MACD. How does my wife?
ROSSE Why, well.—

MACD And all my children ?

ROSSE. Well too

- MACD. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? ROSSE. No; they were at peace when I did leave

'em.

MACD. Be not a niggard of your speech; how goes it?

ROSSE. When I came hither to transport the tid

ings,

Which I have heavily borne, there ṛan a rumour
Of many worthy fellows that were out,
Which was to my helief witness'd the rather,
For tha: I saw the tyrant's power afoot
Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland
Would create soldiers, and make women fight,
To doff their dire distresses

MAL Be't their comfort

We're coming thicher: gracious England hath
Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men
An older, and a better soldier, none

That Christendom gives out

Rose Would I could answer

This comfort with the like: But I have words

That

That would be howl'd out in the desert air,
Where hearing si ould not catch them.
MACD. What concern they?

The gen'ral cause! or is it a free-grief
Due to some single breast?

Rosse. No mind that's honest,

But in it shares some wo; though the main part
Purtains to you alone.

MACD. If it be mine,

Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it :
Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for

ever,

Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound, That ever yet they heard.

MAC. Hum! I guess at it.

Ross Your castle is surpris'd,your wife and babes Savagely slaughter'd; to relate the manner,

Were on the quarry of these murder'd deer
To add the death of you.

MAL Merciful Heav'n!

What man! ne'er puil your hat upon your brows, Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak, Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it breaks MACD. My children too!

Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all that would be found.

MACD. And I must be from thence; my wife kil'd too!

ROSE I've said.

MAL. Be comforted.

Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge,
To cure this deadly grief.

MACD. He has no children.-All my pretty ones? Did you say all? what, ali! oh, hell kite! all? MAL. Endure it like a man.

Mac. I shall do so;

But I must also feel it as a man.

I cannot but remember such things were,

That were most precious to me. Did Heav'n look on And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,

They

They were all struck for thee? naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Fell slaughter on their souls. Heav'n rest them now!
MAL. Be this the whet stone of your sword, let

grief

Convert to wrath: blunt not the heart, enrage it. MACD. O, I could play the woman with mine

eyes,

And braggart with my tongue But gentle Heav'n
Cut short all intermission: front to front,

Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
Within my sword's length set him, if he "scape,
Then heav'n forgive him too!

MAL. This tune goes maniy

Come, go we to the King, our pow'r is ready;
Our lack is nothing but our leave.

Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above.
Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you

The night is long that never finds the day.

PARDON me, thou bleeding piece of earth? That I am' meek and gentle with these butchers; Thou art the ruins of the noblest man

That ever liv'd in the tide of times

Wo to the hand that shed this costly blood!
Over thy wounds now do I prophecy,

Which like dumb mou.hs, do ope their ruby lips,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue,)
A curse shall light upon the line of men;
Domestic fury, and herce civil strife,
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy';
Blood and destruction shall be so in use,

And

And dreadful objects so familiar,

That mothers should but smile, when they behold
Their intants quarter'd by the hands of war:
All pitv choak'd with custom of fell dees;
And Cæ ar's spint, raging for revenge,
With A é by his side, come hot from hell,
Sh-lhese confines ith a monarch's voice,
Cry Havock, and let slip the dogs of war.

SHAKSPEARE.

-0000

CHAP. XXIV.

ANTONY'S FUNERAL ORATION OVER CÆSAR's BODY,

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 Cæsa! Noble Brutus
Hath told you, Cear was ambitious;
If it were so, it was a grievous fault;
And grievousiy hath Cæsar answer'a it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,
(For Brutus is an honourable man,
So are they 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 capuves home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill; ·
Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?

When that the poor hath cried, Cæsar-hath wept;
Ambition should be in ide of sterner stuff.

Yet Brutus say he was ambitious?

And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see, that on the Lupercal,

rice presented him a kingly crow;

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.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle : I remember
The irst 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 belov'd Brutus stabb'd;
And as he pluck'd his cu sed 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 Cesar's angel.
Judge, O ye gods! how dearly Cæsar lov'd him
This, this was the unkindest cut of all;

For when the noble Ca ar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,

Quite vanquish'd him; then bu st his mighty heart;
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the bise of Pompey's statue,

Which all the while ran blood, gear Cæsar fell.
O what a fali was there, my countrymen !
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
While bloody treason flourish'd over us

O! now you weep; and I perceive you feel
The duit of pity; these are gracious drops

Kind souls; what? weep you when you but behold
Our Car's vesture wounded? look you here!
Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, by traitors.

Gg

Good