HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY ON HIS Bring with thee airs from heaven, or MOTHER'S MARRIAGE. O THAT this too too solid flesh would melt, How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead!—nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. earth! Heaven and blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me: Have burst their cerements! why the sepulchre, Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd, Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws, To cast thee up again! What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again, in complete nature, So horribly to shake our disposition, With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? A FAITHFUL LOVER. Two Gentlemen of Verona. His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; His tears pure messengers sent from his heart, CASSIUS UPON CESAR. WHY, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a colossus; and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves. His heart as far from fraud as heaven Men at some time are masters of their from earth. fates: 2 The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Brutus and Cæsar: What should be in that Cæsar? Why should that name be sounded more than yours? Write them together, yours is as fair a name; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em, Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar. Now, in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed, That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd! Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! When went there by an age since the great flood, But it was fam'd with more than with one man? When could they say, till now, that talk'd of Rome, That her wide walks encompass'd but one man? MARK ANTONY'S ORATION OVER THE BODY OF CÆSAR. FRIENDS, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears: I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him. Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious: 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. I found it in his closet,-tis his will; He was my friend, faithful and just to (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to me; But Brutus says he was ambitious? And Brutus is an honourable man. read), And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar'a wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood; 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 pluck'd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Cæsar followed it! As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd 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 traitors' arms, Quite vanquish'd 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, with traitors. THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, Checked like a bondman; all his faults observed, Good Friends, sweet friends, let me not Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. by rote, To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep know, When thou didst hate him worst, thou MACBETH'S MENTAL STRUGGLE lovedst him better Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. Bru. Sheath your dagger. Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. O Cassius, you are yokéd with a lamb, And straight is cold again. When grief, and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him? Bru. When I spoke that, I was illtempered too. Cas. Do you confess so much? give me your hand. Bru. And my heart too. To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own lips. He's here in double trust; First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead, like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off; |