Enter PORTIA and NERISSA at a distance.

Por. That light we see is burning in my hall :— How far that little candle throws his beams!

So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.
Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less:
A substitute shines brightly as a king,
Until a king be by; and then his state
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters.-Music, hark!

Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house.
Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect :
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.
Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark,
When neither is attended; and, I think,
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.
How many things by season seasoned are
To their right praise, and true perfection!

[Music.

MARK ANTONY'S ORATION OVER THE BODY OF CESAR.
("Julius Cæsar," Act 3.)

1 Cit. THIS Cæsar was a tyrant.

3 Cit.

We are blest that Rome is rid of him.

Nay, that's certain :

2 Cit. Peace! let us hear what Antony can say.
Ant. You gentle Romans,-

All.

Peace, ho let us hear him.

Ant. 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, 1

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.

1 Cit. Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.
2 Cit. If thou consider rightly of the matter,
Cæsar has had great wrong.

Ant. 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.

1 The feast of the god Pan.

...

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 hair of him for memory,

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

Unto their issue.

Cit. The will, the will! we will hear Cæsar's will. Ant. Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile? I have o'ershot myself, to tell you of it.

I fear I wrong the honourable men

Whose daggers have stabb'd Cæsar: I do fear it. Cits. They were villains, murderers ! The will! Read the will!

Ant. 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 follow'd it !-
As rushing out of doors, to be resolved
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no.

For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel :
Judge, oh you gods! how dearly Cæsar loved 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.

Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen !

Then I, and you, and all of us fell down;
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.
Oh, 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.
1 Cit. O piteous spectacle !

2 Cit. O noble Cæsar! 3 Cit. O woful day!

4 Cit. O trait'rous villains!

2 Cit. We will be revenged!

Ant. 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 griefs1 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 give me public leave to speak of him;
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action nor utt'rance, 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.

All. We'll mutiny!

1 Cit. We'll burn the house of Brutus !
3 Cit. Away then, come, seek the conspirators.

Grievances; causes of resentment.

FALL OF WOLSEY.-(" Henry VIII.," Act 3.)

;

Wol. FAREWELL, a long farewell to all my greatness !
This is the state of man to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a rip'ning, nips his shoot;
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys, that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory;
But far beyond my depth my high-blown pride
At length broke under me; and now has left me,
Weary and old with service, to the mercy.

Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye!
I feel my heart new-open'd. Oh, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
There is, betwixt that smile he would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and his ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have ;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.

Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.

Wol.

[Enter Cromwell.

Why, how now, Cromwell?

What, amazed

At my misfortunes ?

Can thy spirit wonder

How does your Grace?

Wol.

Why, well;

A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,

I am fallen indeed.

Crom.

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now, and I feel within me

A peace above all earthly dignities;

A still and quiet conscience. The King has cured me,
I humbly thank his Grace; and, from these shoulders,
These ruin'd pillars, out of pity taken

A load would sink a navy, too much honour.