This was the most unkindest cùt of all!

For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude more strong than traitors' arms,

Quite vanquished him! Then bùrst his mighty heart;
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,

Even at the base of Pompey's stàtue,

Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fèll.

SHAKESPEARE.

Oh, I have suffered

With those that I saw sùffer! a brave vessel

Who had, no doubt, some nòble creatures in her,
Dashed all to pièces. Oh, the cry did knock
Against my very heart! Poor soùls! they pèrished.
Had I been any god of power, I would

Have sunk the sea within the eàrth, or ere

It should the good ship so have swallowed, and
The frighting souls within her.

SHAKESPEARE.

CIRCUMFLEX.

What should I say to you? Should I not say,
Hath a dog money?? is it possible,

A cur can lend three thousand ducats?

SHAKESPEARE.

Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.

MOVEMENT.

BYRON.

THE rate of utterance is an outward indication of the state of the speakers feelings.

Rapid movement is used to express joy, animation, excite

ment.

Moderate movement is used in unimpassioned discourse. Slow movement is used to express grief, power, vastness,

Her mother only killed a côw,

Or witched a chûrn or dâiry-pan ;

But shě, forsooth, must charm a mân!"

WHITTIER.

If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been chûrches, and poor men's cottages princes' pălaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions. I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than to be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps over a cold decrêe.

Marullus. You, sir; what trade are you?

SHAKESPEARE.

2d Citizen. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a côbbler.

Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly. 2d Cit. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a měnder of bad sôles. Mar. What trade, thou knàve? thou naughty knave, what trade?

2d Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, if bê out, sir, I can you měnd you.

Mar. What mean'st thou by that? Ménd me, thou saucy fellow?

a Digit mannood, there is no such word As-fail!

BULWER.

Good name in man and woman, dear lord,

Is the immediate jewel of their sòuls;

my

Who steals my púrse steals tràsh; 'tis sómething, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;

But he that filches from me my good nàme,

Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me pòor indèed.

SHAKESPEARE.

MONOTONE.

The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit shall dissolve,
And, like the unsubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind.

SHAKESPEAre.

Father of earth and heaven, I call thy name!
Round me the smoke and shout of battle roll;
My eyes are dazzled with the rustling flame;
Father sustain an untried soldier's soul,
Or life or death, whatever be the goal,

That crowns or closes round this struggling hour;
Thou know'st, if ever from my spirit stole

One deeper prayer, 'twas that no cloud might lower
On my young fame, oh hear, God of eternal power.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean

roll!

KORNER.

Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with ruin - his control
Stops with the shore;-upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage save his own,

When for a moment, like a drop of rain,

He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.

BYRON.

MOVEMENT.

THE rate of utterance is an outward indication of the state of the speakers feelings.

Rapid movement is used to express joy, animation, excite

ment.

Moderate movement is used in unimpassioned discourse. Slow movement is used to express grief, power, vastness,

solemnity, and in great exhaustion, or in giving explicit directions.

Very slow movement is used in the expression of profound reverence, adoration, deep contemplation.

RAPID MOVEMENT.

And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns!

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,

A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:

LONGFELLOW.

Hurrah! the foes are moving! Hark to the mingled din
Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring

culverin!

The fiery Duke is pricking fast across Saint André's plain, With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne. Now, by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, Charge for the golden lilies now, - upon them with the lance!

A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snowwhite crest,

And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star,

Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre.
MACAULAY.

So farre, so fast the eygre drave,
The heart had hardly time to beat,
Before a shallow, seething wave
Sobbed in the grasses at our feet!

The feet had hardly time to flee
Before it brake against the knee,
And all the world was in the sea.

He spoke of wrongs too long endured,
Of sacred rights to be secured;
Then from his patriot tongue of flame
The startling words for Freedom came.
The stirring sentences he spake
Compelled the heart to glow or quake,
And rising on his theme's broad wing,
And grasping in his nervous hand
The imaginary battle-brand,
In face of death he dared to fling
Defiance to a tyrant king.

INGELOW.

T. B. READ.

MODERATE.

I had come to Stratford on a poetical pilgrimage. My first visit was to the house where Shakespeare was born, and where, according to tradition, he was brought up to his father's craft of wool-combing. It is a small, mean-looking edifice of wood and plaster, a true nestling-place of genius, which seems to delight in hatching its offspring in by-corners. IRVING.

And so beside the Silent Sea

I wait the muffled oar;

No harm from Him can come to me
On ocean or on shore.

I know not where His islands lift

Their fronded palms in air;

I only know I cannot drift

Beyond his love and care.

WHITTIER.