CXLVI.-MARULLUS TO THE ROMAN POPULACE.

1. WHEREFORE rejoice, that Cæsar comes in triumph? What conquest brings he home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome,

To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels?

You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!

2. O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome!
Knew ye not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climbed up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
The live-long day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome;
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made a universal shout,
That Tiber trembled underneath her banks
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in her concave shores?

3. And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out a holiday?

And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?

Begone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
That needs must light on this ingratitude!

SHAKSPEARE.

CXLVII. THE MISER PUNISHED.

1. So, so! all safe! Come forth, my pretty rklersCome forth, and feast my eyes! Be not afrai

No keen-eyed agent of the government

Can see you here. They wanted me, forsooth,

To lend you, at the lawful rate of usance,

For the state's needs. IIa, ha! my shining pets,
My yellow darlings, my sweet golden circlets!
Too well I loved you to do that and so
I pleaded poverty, and none could prove
My story was not true.

2. Ha! could they see

These bags of ducats, and thau precious pil

Of iugots, and those bars of solid gold,

Their eyes, methinks, would water. What a comfort
Is it to see my moneys in a heap

All safely lodged under my very roof!

Here's a fat bag-let me untie the mouth of it.
What eloquence! what beauty! what expression!
Could Cicero so plead? could Helen look

One half so charming?

3 Ah! what sound was that?

The trap-door fallen? and the spring-lock caught?—
Well, have I not the key?-Of course I have!
'Tis in this pocket-No. In this?-No. Then

I left it at the bottom of the ladder

Ha! 't is not there. Where then?-Ah! mercy, Heaven! 'Tis in the lock outside!

4. What's to be done?

Help, help! Will no one hear? O! would that I
Had not discharged old Simon!-but he begged
Each week for wages-would not give me credit.
I'll try my strength upon the door-Despair!
I might as soon uproot the eternal rocks
As force it open. Am I here a prisoner,
And no one in the house? no one at hand,
Or likely soon to be, to hear my cries?
Am I entombed alive?-Horrible fate!

I sink-I faint beneath the bare conception!

5. Darkness? Where am I?-I remember now

This is a bag of ducats-'tis no dream

No dream! The trap-door fell, and here am I
Immured with my dear gold-my candle out-
All gloom-all silence-all despair! What, ho!
Friends!-friends?—I have no friends. What right have I
To use the name? These money-bags have been

The only friends I've cared for-and-for these

I've toiled, and pinched, and screwed, shutting my heart
To charity, humanity and love!

6. Detested traitors! since I gave you all—
Ay, gave my very soul-can ye do naught
For me in this extremity ?-Ho! without there!
A thousand ducats for a loaf of bread!
Ten thousand ducats for a glass of water!

A pile of ingots for a helping hand!

Was that a laugh?-Ay, 'twas a fiend that laughed
To see a miser in the grip of death!

7. Offended heaven! have mercy!-I will give
In alms all this vile rubbish, aid me thou

In this most dreadful strait! I'll build a church

A hospital!-Vain! vain! Too late, too late!

Heaven knows the miser's heart too well to trust him!
Heaven will not hear!-Why should it? What have I
Done to enlist heaven's favor-to help on

Heaven's cause on earth, in human hearts and homes?—
Nothing! God's kingdom will not come the sooner
For any work or any prayer of mine.

8. But must I die here-in my own trap caught?
Die-die?-and then! O! mercy! Grant me time—
Thou who canst save-grant me a little time,
And I'll redeem the past-undo the evil

That I have done-make thousands happy with
This hoarded treasure-do thy will on earth
As it is done in heaven-grant me but time!--
Nor man nor God will heed my shrieks! All's lost!

OSBORNE.

CXLVIII.-BRUTUS HARANGUE ON THE DEATH OF CÆSAR

1. ROMANS, countrymen, and lovers-hear me for my cause; and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me for my honor and have respect to my honor, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there is any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Cæsar was no 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.

2. Had you 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.

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

4. None! Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Cæsar, than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the capitol; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offenses enforced, for which he suffered death.

5. Here comes his 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-and, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for my. self, when it shall please my country to need my death.

SHAKSPEARE.

CXLIX. THE BARON'S LAST BANQUET.

1. O'ER a low couch the setting sun
IIad thrown its latest ray,
Where, in his last strong agony,

A dying warrior lay—

The stern old Baron Rudiger,

Whose frame had ne'er been bent
By wasting pain, till time and toil
Its iron strength had spent.

2. "They come around me here, and say
My days of life are o'er-

That I shall mount my noble steed
And lead my band no more;

They come, and to my beard they dare

To tell me now, that I,

Their own liege lord and master born-
That I-ha! ha!-must die!

3. "And what is death? I've dared him oft
Before the Paynim's spear-

Think ye he's entered at my gate,

Has come to seek me here?

I've met him, faced him, scorned him,
When the fight was raging hot--

I'll try his might-I'll brave his power-
Defy, and fear him not!

4 "Io! sound the tocsin from the tower-
And fire the culverin!—

Bid each retainer arm with speed-
Call every vassal in!

Up with my banner on the wall!
The banquet board prepare!-
Throw wide the portal of my hall,
And bring my armor there!"

5. A hundred hands were busy then;
The banquet forth was spread,
And rang the heavy oaken floor
With many a martial tread;
While from the rich, dark tracery,

Along the vaulted wall,

Lights gleamed on harness, plume, and spear,
O'er the proud old Gothic hall.

6. Fast hurrying through the outer gate,
The mailed retainers poured

On through the portal's frowning arch,
And thronged around the board;
While at its head, within his dark,
Carved oaken chair of state,
Armed cap-a-pie, stern Rudiger,
With girded falchion, sate.

7. “Fill every beaker up, my men!
Pour forth the cheering wine!
There's life and strength in every drop-

Thanksgiving to the vine!

Are ye all there, my vassals true?

Mine eyes are waxing dim

Fill round, my tried and fearless ones,
Each goblet to the brim!

8. "Ye 're there, but yet I see you not!
Draw forth each trusty sword-
And let me hear your faithful steel
Clash once around my board!