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1012 PISANDER HOLDING A PARLEY WITH THE CHIEFS

OF SYRACUSE AT THE HEAD OF THE INSURGENTS

BRIEELY thus, then

since I must speak for all.—Your tyranny drew us from our obedience. Happy those times when lords were styled fathers of families, and not imperious masters! when they number'd their servants almost equal with their sons, or one degree beneath them! when their labours were cherished and rewarded, and a period set to their sufferings; when they did not press their duties or their wills, beyond the power and strength of their performance; all things order'd with such decorum, as wise law-makers, from each well-govern’d private house derived the perfect model of a commonwealth. Humanity then lodged in the hearts of men, and thankful masters carefully provided for creatures wanting reason. The noble horse, that in his fiery youth from his wide nostrils neighed courage to his rider and brake through groves of opposed pikes, bearing his lord safe to triumphant victory, old or wounded, was set at liberty and freed from service. The Athenian mules, that from the quarry drew marble, hewed for the temples of the gods, the great work ended, were dismissed and fed at the public cost; nay, faithful dogs have found their sepulchres; but man, to man more cruel, appoints no end to the sufferings of his slave; since pride stepped in and riot, and o’erturned this goodly frame of concord, teaching masters to glory in the abuse of such as are brought under their command; who, grown unuseful, are less esteemed than beasts.

P. MASSINGER

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MUST obey him, for I see my friends

doth with increasing anguish move my heart.
May I no longer feed the silent hope

which in my solitude I fondly cherish’d?
shall the dire cause eternally endure?
and shall our fated race ne'er rise again
with blessings crown'd? All mortal things decay ;
the noblest powers, the purest joys of life
at length subside: then wherefore not the curse?
And have I vainly hop'd that, guarded here,
secluded from the fortunes of my race,
I, with pure heart and hands, some future day
might cleanse the deep defilement of our house?
Scarce was my brother in my circling arms
from raging madness suddenly restor'd,
when unrelenting fate with iron hand
a double crime enjoins; commanding me
to steal the image, sacred and rever'd,
confided to my care, and him deceive
to whom I owe my life and destiny.
Let not abhorrence spring within my heart!
nor the old Titan's hate, towards you, ye gods,
infix its vulture talons in my breast!
An ancient song comes back upon mine ear-
I had forgotten it, and willingly-
the Parcæ's song, which horribly they sung,
what time, hurld headlong from his golden seat,
fell Tantalus. They with their noble friend,
keen anguish suffer'd; savage was their breast
and horrible their song. In days gone by,
when we were children, oft our ancient nurse
would sing it to us, and I mark'd it well.

A. SWANWICK from Goethe

1014 MALCOLM'S CHARACTER OF HIMSELF TO MACDUFF

Mac.

B

LEED, bleed, poor country!

great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, for goodness dares not check thee! wear thou thy

wrongs,
thy title is affe

d!-Fare thee well, lord:
I would not be the villain that thou think'st
for the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,

and the rich East to boot. Mal.

Be not offended;
I speak not as in absolute fear of you.

I think our country sinks beneath the yoke,
it weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash
is added to her wounds. I think, withal,
there would be hands up-lifted in my right:
and here, from gracious England, have I offer
of goodly thousands: but, for all this,
when I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
shall have more vices than it had before,
more suffer, and more sundry ways than ever,

by him that shall succeed. Mac.

What should he be?
Mal. It is myself I mean; in whom I know

all the particulars of vice so grafted,
that, when they shall be opened, black Macbeth
will seem as pure as snow; and the poor state
esteem him as a lamb, being compared
with my confineless harms.

W. SHAKESPEARE

1015

RICHARD'S DESPAIR

LE

ET'S talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;

make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. Let's choose executors, and talk of wills: and yet not so,-for what can we bequeath, save our deposéd bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, and nothing can we call our own but death, and that small model of the barren earth which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground, and tell sad stories of the death of kings :how some have been deposed, some slain in war; some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed; some poison'd by their wives; some sleeping kill'd; all murdered:--for within the hollow crown that rounds the mortal temples of a king, keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits, scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp; allowing him a breath, a little scene, to monarchize, be feard, and kill with looks;

infusing him with self and vain conceit,-
as if this flesh, which walls about our life,
were brass impregnable; and humour'd thus,
comes at the last, and with a little pin
bores through his castle wall, and-farewell king !
cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
with solemn reverence; throw away respect,
tradition, form, and ceremonious duty;
for you have but mistook me all this while:
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
need friends:-subjected thus,
how can you say to me, I am a king?

W. SHAKESPEARE

1016

BELLARIO-PHILASTER

SR,

Bell. IR, if I have made

a fault of ignorance, instruct my youth;
I shall be willing, if not apt, to learn;
age and experience will adorn my mind
with larger knowledge; and if I have done
a wilful fault, think me not past all hope
for once.

What master holds so strict a hand
over his boy, that he will part with him
without one warning ? Let me be corrected
to break my stubbornness, if it be so,

rather than turn me off ; and I shall mend. Phil. Thy love doth plead so prettily to stay,

that, trust me, I could weep to part with thee.
Alas, I do not turn thee off! thou know'st
it is my business that doth call thee hence;
and when thou art with her, thou dwell'st with me.
Think so, and 'tis so: and when time is full,
that thou hast well discharg'd this heavy trust,
laid on so weak a one, I will again
with joy receive thee; as I live, I will!
nay, weep not, gentle boy. 'Tis more than time

thou did'st attend the princess. Bel.

I am gone. But since I am to part with you, my lord, and none knows whether I shall live to do more service for you, take this little prayer: heaven bless your loves, your fights, all your designs! may sick men, if they have your wish, be well;

and Heaven hate those you curse, though I be one! Phil. The love of boys unto their lords is strange;

I have read wonders of it: yet this boy
for my sake (if a man may judge by looks
and speech) would out-do story. I may see
a day to pay him for his loyalty.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER

1017 OSMYN ON RECOVERING HIS WIFE ALMERIA

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Osm.
MY

Y life, my health, my liberty, my all,

how shall I welcome thee to this sad place?
how speak to thee the words of joy and transport ?
how run into thy arms, withheld by fetters;
or take thee into mine, while I'm thus manacled
and pinioned like a thief or murderer?
Shall I not hurt or bruise thy tender body,
and stain thy bosom with the rust of these

rude irons ? Must I meet thee thus, Almeria ?
Alm. Thus, thus; we parted, thus to meet again.
Thou told'st me thou would'st think how we might

meet
to part no more.— Now we will part no more,

for these thy chains, or death, shall join us ever. Osm. Hard means to ratify that word!-0 cruelty!

that ever I should think behoiding thee
a torture!—yet, such is the bleeding anguish
of my heart, to see thy sufferings.-0 heav'n!
that I could almost turn my eyes away,

or wish thee from my sight. Alm.

O say not so;
tho' 'tis because thou lov'st me.

Do not say,
on any terms, that thou dost wish me from thee.
No, no, 'tis better thus, that we together
feed on each other's heart, devour our woes
with mutual appetite ; and mingling in
one cup the common stream of both our eyes,
drink bitter draughts, with never-slacking thirst.
Thus better, than for any cause to part.
What dost thou think? look not so tenderly
upon me-speak, and take me in thy arms-
thou canst not! thy poor arms are bound, and strive

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