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BRUTUS ON THE DEATH OF CÆSAR.

Had you

Romans, countrymen, and lovers! Hear me for my cause; and be silent, that you may bear. Believe me for mine honor; and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly,—any dear friend of Cæsar's,to him I say, that Brutus’ love to Cæsar was not less than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer: Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves, than that Cæsar were dead, to live all freemen? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him ; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his ambition.

Who is here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.

None? Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Cæsar than you shall do to Brutus. The ques. tion of his death is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death.

Here comes bis body, mourned by Mark Antony, who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying,-a place in the commonwealth; as which of you shall not? With this I depart :-That, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.

Shakspeare.

ANTONY'S ADDRESS TO THE ROMANS.

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.
Ho 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 stutt':
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,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

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 honorable men.
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,

Than I will wrong such honorable men.
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 liair of him for memory,
And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy,
Unto their issue.

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 lie overcame the Nervii.Look! In this place ran Cassius' dag er through; See what a rent the envious Casca made; Through this, the well-Leloved Brutus stabbed, And, as le plucked his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it! As rushing out of doors, to be resolved If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no; For Brutus, as you know, was Casar's angel; Judge, O, ye gods, how dcarly Cæsar loved hiin! This was the most unkindest out of all; For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquished him. Then burst liis mighty heart; And, in his mantle mufiling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's statue, Which all the while ran bloodl, great Cæsar fell. 0, what a fall was there, my countrymen! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason ilourished 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 ye here! Here is himself, marred, as you sce, by traitors.

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
To sich a sudden flood of mutiny,
They that have clone this deed are honorable!
What private griefs they have, alas! I know not,
. That made them do it. They are wise and honorable,

And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts;
I am no orator, as Brutus is;

Bat as you all know me, a plain, blunt man,
That love my friend; and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him.
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood ;--I only speak right on;
I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
Slzow 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!

Shakspeare.

GRIZZLY GRUMBLER'S ADVICE.

MY DEAR FELLOW-GRUMBLERS :—Poets, philosophers, und fools, in all ages, have been writing and preaching on the art of being happy, without a mighty sight of seals to their ministry, I guess.

But, as many can't be satisfied unless miserable in body and mind, I am going to show all such persons the several means to be used for the attainment of such a desirable end.

In the first place, my beloved whiners, in order to attain any end, you must get up a stiff resolution and determination to conquer. Yes, my hearers, you must set down your foot, grit your teeth, let your resolution be as stiff as boiler-plate, let your firmness be as unwavering as the rocks of Gibraltar. Be determined to be miserable, and you shall get your desires. Never mind what people tell you about the bounties of Providence and the beauties of Nature,--the balmy breezes of spring, the twittering and warbling of birds,—you must sheer off from them like a wealthy upstart from a poor relation,

Put on a sour, savage, snapping-turtle physiognomy; look daggers, and act out your feelings; this is the first great commandment with misery: Think you are the most forsaken mortal that misery ever held a mortgage

Hate mankind; call 'em all liars, cheats, swindlers, villains. Look at everything on the wrong side. If it has no dark side, make one, just so as to enjoy yourself looking at it. Take it for granted that everybody about is especially interested to torment you. Fight everybody and everything. You can't hit amiss. The world is all wrong. Everybody is a villain but yourself, and it is your duty to teach mankind manners. Go at 'em. You can't fail to be miserable.

THE YOUNG GRAY HEAD.

I'm thinking that to-night, if not before,
There'll be wild work, Dost hear old Chewton roar ?
It's brewing up down westward; and look there!
One of those sea gulls ! ay, there goes a pair;
And such a sudden thaw! If rain comes on,
As threats, the water will be out anon.
That path by the ford is a nasty bit of way, -
Best let the young ones bide from school to-day.

The children join in this request; but the mother resolves that they shall set out,—the two girls, Lizzy and Jenny, the one five, the other seven. As the dame's will was law, so,-One last fond kiss, God bless my little maids,” the father said, And cheerily went his way to win their bread.

Prepared for their journey, they depart, with the mother's admonition to the elder:“Now, mind and bring Jenny safe home," the mother said. “Don't stay To pull a bough or berry by the way; And when you come to cross the ford, hold fast Your little sister's hand till you're quite past; That plank is so crazy, avd so slippery,

If not overflowed the stepping stones will be.

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