Of sort might sit in order to behold; The other side was open, where the throng

On banks and scaffolds under sky might stand;

I among these aloof obscurely stood. The feast and noon grew high, and sacrifice

Had filled their hearts with mirth,
high cheer, and wine,
When to their sports they turned.
Immediately

Was Samson as a public servant brought,

In their state livery clad; before him pipes

And timbrels, on each side went armed guards,

Both horse and foot, before him and behind

Archers, and slingers, cataphracts, and spears.

At sight of him the people with a shout

Rifted the air, clamoring their God with praise,

Who had made their dreadful enemy their thrall.

He patient, but undaunted, where they led him,

Came to the place, and what was set before him,

Which without help of eye might be assayed,

To heave, pull, draw, or break, he still performed

All with incredible stupendous force, None daring to appear antagonist. At length for intermission sake they led him

Between the pillars; he his guide requested,

For so from such as nearer stood we heard,

As over-tired to let him lean awhile With both his arms on those two massy pillars,

That to the arched roof gave main support.

He unsuspicious led him; which when Samson

Felt in his arms, with head awhile inclined,

And eyes fast fixt he stood, as one who prayed,

Or some great matter in his mind revolved:

At last with head erect thus cried aloud, "Hitherto, lords, what your commands imposed

I have performed, as reason was, obeying,

Not without wonder or delight beheld:

Now of my own accord such other trial

I mean to show you of my strength, yet greater,

As with amaze shall strike all who behold."

This uttered, straining all his nerves he bowed;

As with the force of winds and waters pent,

When mountains tremble, those two massy pillars

With horrible convulsion to and fro He tugged, he shook, till down they came, and drew

The whole roof after them, with burst of thunder Upon the heads of all who sat beneath,

But he, though

2. Semi-chorus. blind of sight, Despised and thought extinguished quite,

With inward eyes illuminated,
His fiery virtue roused

From under ashes into sudden flame,
Not as an evening dragon came,
Assailant on the perchèd roosts
And nests in order ranged

Of tame villatic fowl; but as an eagle His cloudless thunder bolted on their heads.

So virtue given for lost,
Depressed, and overthrown, as
seemed,

Like that self-begotten bird
In the Arabian woods imbost,
That no second knows nor third,
And lay ere while a holocaust,
From out her ashy womb now
teemed,

Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous

beggar went, and laughed,
"This brings

Me chance, at last, to see if men
Fare better, being kings."

The king sat bowed beneath his

crown,

Propping his face with listless hand; Watching the hour-glass sifting down Too slow its shining sand.

"Poor man, what wouldst thou have of me?"

The beggar turned, and pitying, Replied, like one in dream, "Of thee, Nothing. I want the king."

Uprose the king, and from his head Shook off the crown, and threw it

by.

"O man! thou must have known,"

he said.

"A greater king than I."

Think of this life; but, for my single self

I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Cæsar; so were
you:

We both have fed as well; and we can both

Endure the winter's cold, as well as he.

For once upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,

Cæsar said to me, " Dar'st thou, Cassius, now

the word,

Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point?" Upon Accoutred as I was, I plungèd in, And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did.

The torrent roared, and we did buffet it

With lusty sinews; throwing it aside, And stemming it with hearts of controversy.

But ere we could arrive the point proposed,

Cæsar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink."

I, as Æneas, our great ancestor, Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulders

The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tiber

Did I the tired Cæsar: and this man Is now become a god; and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend

his body,

If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in

a name;

Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;

Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with them,

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 shamed: Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!

When went there by an age, since the great flood,

But it was famed with more than with one man?

When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome,

That her wide walls encompassed but one man?

Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough,

When there is in it but one only

ANTONY OVER THE DEAD

BODY OF CÆSAR.

Antony. - 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 honorable man; So are they all, all honorable 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 honorable 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 honorable man. You all did see, that on the Lupercal;

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 honorable 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,

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.

Citizen. We'll hear the will;

Read it, Mark Antony.

Citizen. The will, the will; we will hear Cæsar's will. Antony. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it; It is not meet you know how Cæsar loved you.

You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;

And being men, hearing the will of Cæsar,

It will inflame you, it will make you mad:

'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs,

For if you should, O, what would come of it!

Read the will; we will hear it, Antony,