To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, She said, in truth, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; She wish'd she had not heard it-yet she wish'd And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. On this hint I spake. SHAKSPERE. SHYLOCK MEDITATING REVENGE. Hath not a Jew If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me of half a million! laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated my enemies! And what's his reason? I am a Jew! Hath not a Jew eyes? hands? organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Is he not fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same summer and winter, as a Christian is? If you stab us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? and, if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that! If a Jew Ꮓ wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, Revenge! The villany you teach me I will execute; and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruction. SHAKSPERE. SOLILOQUY OF RICHARD III. Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, And descant on mine own deformity: And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up, Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clarence comes. SHAKSPERE. MARCELLUS' SPEECH TO THE MOB. WHEREFORE rejoice? that Cæsar comes in triumph! What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome? То grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? You blocks! you stones! you worse than senseless things! The live-long day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome? To hear the replication of your sounds, And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now strew flowers in his way, Run to your houses! fall upon your knees! SHAKSPERE. BRUTUS ON CESAR'S DEATH. ROMANS, Countrymen, and Lovers! — hear me for my cause; and be silent, that you may hear. 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's 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. 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! Who's here so base, that would be a bondman? if any, speak! for him have I offended. Who's here so rude, that would not be a Roman? if any, speak! for him have I offended. Who's 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! Cæsar, than you should do to Brutus. I have done no more to The question 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 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 — 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. SHAKSPERE. MARK ANTONY'S ORATION. FRIENDS, Romans, Countrymen! lend me your ears, The good is oft interred with their bones : Noble Brutus And grievously hath Cæsar answer'd it ! 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, When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept. Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honorable man! |