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that friend demand, why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer: Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I lored 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 honour him; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears, for his love, joy for his fortune, honour for his valour, and death for his ambition. Who's here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for hin 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


for a reply:None? then none have I offended. I have done no more io Cæsar than you should do to Brutus. 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 bea nefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth ; as which of you

shall 101? 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.




Brave Peers of England, pillars of the state,
To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief,
Your grief, the common grief of all the land.
What! did nty brother Henry spend his youth,
His valour, cuin, and people in the wars;
Did he so often lodge in open field,
In winter's cold, and summer's parching heat,

To conquer France, his true inheritance ?
And did my brother Bedford toil his wits
To keep by policy what Henry got?
Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham,
Brave York, and Salisbury, victorious Warwick,
R:ceivd deep scars in France and Normandy?
Or haih mine uncle Beaufort, and myself,
Wiih all the learned council of the realm,
Studied so long, sat in the council-house
Early and late, debating to and fro,
How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe?
And was his highness in his infancy
Crowned in Paris, in despite of foes?
And shall these labours and these huncurs die?
Shall Henry's conquest, Bedforl's vigilance,
Your deeds of war, and all our counsel, die?
O Peers of England, shameful is this league,
Fatal this marriage; cancelling your fame,
Blotting your names from books of memory;
Razing the characters of your renown,
Defacing monuments of conquer'd France,
Undoing all, as all had nerer been.


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was at a time when a certain friend, whom I highly value, was my guest. We had been sitting together, entertaining ourselves with Shakspeare. Among many of his characters, we had looked into that of Wolsey. How soon, says my friend, does the cardinal in disgrace abjure that happiness which he was lately so fond of! Scarcely out of office, but he begins to exclaim,


and glory of the world! I hate ye. So true is it, that our sentiments ever vary with the season; and that in adversity we are of one mind, in prosperity of another. As for his mean opinion, said I, of human happiness, it is a truth, which small reflection might have taught him long before. There seems little need of distress to inform us of this. I rather commend the seeming wisdom of that eastern monarch, who in the affluence of prosperity, when he was proving every pleasure, was yet so sensible of their emptiness, their insufficiency to inake him happy, that he proclaimed a reward to the man who should invent a new delight. The reward indeed was proclaimed, but the delight was not to be found, If by delight, said he, you mean some good; something con. ducing to real happiness; it might have been found, pera haps, and yet not hit the monarch's fancy. Is that, said I, possible? It is possible, replied he, though it had been

the Sovereign Good itself. And indeed what wonder? Is it probable that such a mortal as an eastern monarch ; such a pampered, flattered, idle mortal, should have attention or capacity for a subject so delicate; a subject, enough 10 exercise the subtlest and most acule?

What then is it you esteeni, said I, the Sovereign Good to be? It should seem, by your representation, to be something very unconmon. Ask me not the question, said he; you know not where it will carry us, Its general idea indeed is easy and plain; but the detail of particulars is perplexed and long; passions and opinions for ever thwart us; a paradox appears in almost every advance. Besides, did our inquiries surceed ever so happily, the very subject itself is always enough to give ne pain. That, replied I, seenis a paradox indeed. It is not, said he, from any prejudice, which I hare, conceived against it; for to man I esteem it the noblest in the world. Nor is it for being a subject, to which my genius does not lead me; for no subject at all tiines has more employed my attention, But the truth is, I can scarce ever think of it, but an unlucky story still occurs to my mind : “ A certain star

gazer with his telescope was once viewing the moon; "and describing her seas, her nountains, and her terri“jories. Says a clown to his companion, Let him spy “ what he pleases; we are as near to the moon as he and

all his brethren." So farts it, alas! with these our moral speculations. Pr tice too often creeps, where theory can The philosopher proves as weak, as those whom he most contemns. A mortifying thought to such as will attend it. Too mortifying, replied I, to be

, long dwelt on. Give us rather your general idea of the Suvereign Good. This is easy from your own account, however intricate the detail.

Thus then, said he, since you are so urgent, it is thus that i conceive it. The Sovereign Good is that, the possession of which renders us happy. And how, said I, do we possess it? Is it sensual, or intellectual? There you are entering, sairi he, upon the detail.

This is beyond your question. Not a small advance, said I, to indulge poor curiosity ? Will you raise me a thirst, and be so cruel bol to allay it? It is not, replied he; of my raising, but


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And yet,

your own. Besides, I am not certain, should I attempt to proceed, whether you will admit such authorities as it is possible I may vilch. That, said I, must be determined by their weight and character. Suppose, said he, it should be mankind; the whole human race. Wu'd rou not think it something strange, to seek of those concerning Good, who pursue it a thousand ways, anil many of thein contradictory? I confess, said I, it seems so, continued he, were there a point in which such dissentients ever agreed, this agreement would be no mean argument in favour of its truth and justness, But where, replied I, is this agreement to be found.

Ile answered me by asking, what if it should appear, that there were certain original characteristics and preconceprions of Gind, which were natural, uniform, and conmon to all men ; which all recognized in their various pursuits ; and that the differenice lay only in the applying them to particulars? This requires, said I, to be illustrated. As it, continuei lie, a company of travellers, in some wide forest, were all intending for one city, but each by a route peculiar 10 himseit. Tre roa is indeed would be various, and many perhaps false; but all who traxrlled, wouli 'hare one end in view. It is evident, said I, they would. So fares it ihen, added he, wiih mankind in the pursuit of Good. The ways, indeed are many, but what they seek is

For instance : Did you ever hear of any, who in pur. suit of their Good, were for living the life of a bird, an insect, or a fish? None.

And why not? It would be inconsistent, answered I, with their nature. You see then, said be, they all agree in this, that what they pursue, ought to be consistent, and agreeable to their proper nature.

So ought it, said I, undoubtedly, 'It' so, continued be, one pre-conception is discovereil, which is common to Gjod in general. It is, that all Good is supposed something agreeable to nature. This indeed, replied I, seems to be agreed on all havds.

But again, said he, is there may scarcely to be found of a temper si truly morrified, as to acqniesce in the lowest, and shortest necessaries of life? Who aims not, if he be able, at something far: her, something better? I replied,



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