That by my youth suffered. My story being done, She gave me for my pains, a world of sighs. She swore in faith, 't was strange, 't was passing strange; "T was pitiful; 't was wondrous pitiful; She wished she had not heard it; yet she wished That heaven had made her such a man. 7. She thanked me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, SHAKSPEARE CLXIII.-HOTSPUR'S DESCRIPTION OF A FOP 1. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. 2. He was perfumed like a milliner ; And, twixt his finger and his thumb, he held A pouncet-box, which, ever and anon, He gave his nose. And still he smiled, and talked, And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly, 3. With many holiday and lady terms, He questioned me; among the rest, demanded I then, all smarting with my wounds, being galled Out of my grief and my impatience, Answered negligently-I know not what He should, or should not; for he made me mad, And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman, Of guns, and drums, and wounds-heaven save the mark-- Was spermaceti-for an inward bruise: 4. And that it was great pity-so it was- 5. This bald, unjointed chat of his, my lord, I answered indirectly, as I said; And I beseech you, let not his report Come current, for an accusation, Betwixt my love, and your high majesty. SHAKSPEARE. CLXIV. THE GAMBLER'S WIFE. 1. DARK is the night! how dark-no light-no fire! For him who pledged her love-last year a bride! 3. "Rest thee, my babe!-rest on!-'tis hunger's cry! 4 "Hush! 'tis the dice-box! Yes, he's there, he's there, Leaves love! leaves truth! his wife! his child! for what? The wanton's smile-the villain-and the sot! 5 "Yet I'll not curse him! No! 'tis all in vain! "Tis long to wait, but sure he'll come again! And I could starve and bless him, but for you, My child! his child!-O fiend!" The clock strikes two 6. "Hark! how the sign-board creaks! The blast howls by! Moan! moan! A dirge swells through the cloudy sky! IIa! 'tis his knock! he comes!-he comes once more! "Tis but the lattice flaps! 7. 'Can he desert me thus? 8. Thy hope is o'er. He knows I stay 66 Nestle more closely, dear one, to my heart! Thou 'rt cold! thou 'rt freezing! But we will not part. Oh God! protect my child!" The clock strikes three. 9. They're gone! they 're gone! the glimmering spark hath fled The wife and child are numbered with the dead! On the cold hearth, out-stretched in solemn rest, Dead silence reigned around-The clock struck four! CLXV.-CASSIUS AGAINST CESAR. 1. HONOR is the subject of my story, In awe of such a thing as myself. I was born as free as Cæsar; so were you; 2. For, once upon a raw and gusty day, And stemming it, with hearts of controversy. COATES But ere we could arrive the point proposed, 3. I, as Æneas, our great ancestor, Did from the flames of Troy, upon his shoulder The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tiber Is now become a god; and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend his body, 4. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him, I did mark And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, Aye, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans 5. Ye gods! it doth amaze me, A man of such a feeble temper should And bear the palm alone. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, Walk under his huge legs, and peep about, To find ourselves dishonorable graves. 6. Men, at some time, are masters of their fates: 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. 7. Now, in the name of all the gods at once, When went there by an age, since the great flood, KIDD.-29 When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome, SHAKSPEARE CLXVI.-RIENZI'S ADDRESS TO THE ROMANS. 1. I COME not here to talk. The story of our thralldom. You know too well The bright sun rises to his course and lights To crimson glory and undying fame: But base, ignoble slaves; slaves to a horde 2. Each hour, dark fraud, Or open rapine, or protected murder, Cry out against them. But this very day An honest man, my neighbor-there he stands- Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, And suffer such dishonor? men, and wash not The stain away in blood? Such shames are common: I have known deeper wrongs; I, that speak to yo I had a brother once-a gracious boy, Full of gentleness, of calmest hope, Of sweet and quiet joy: there was the look 3. How I loved That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years, rother at once, and son! He left my side, |