On Commodity, or Self-Interest.

-Rounded in the ear

With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil;
That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith;
That daily break-vow; he that wins of all,
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men,
maids-

Who having no external thing to lose [that;
But the word maid-cheats the poor maid of
That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling com-
modity-

Commodity, the bias of the world;

The world, which of itself is poised well
Made to run even, upon even ground;
Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias,
This sway of motion, this commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent;
And this same bias, &c.

A Woman's Fears.

Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting

me,

thine?

Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,
Like a proud river peering o'er its bounds?
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again; not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true.
A Mother's Fondness for a beautiful Child.
If thou, that bidd'st me be content, were
grim,

Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb,
Full of unpleasing blots, and sightless stains,
Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious,
Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending
marks,

I would not care, I would then be content; For then I should not love thee: no, nor thou Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown.

But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy! Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great : Of nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast, And with the half-blown rose.

Grief.

I will instruct my sorrows to be proud: For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout. Constance to Austria.

O Lymoges! O Austria! thou dost shame That bloody spoil: thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward;

Thou little valiant, great in villany!
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!
But when her humorous ladyship is by,
Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight,
To teach thee safety! thou art perjur'd too,
And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art
thou,

Upon my party! thou cold-blooded slave,
A ramping fool! to brag, and stamp, and swear,
Been sworn my soldier? bidding me depend
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side?
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength?
And dost thou now fall over to
my
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it, for shame,
And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs.
The Horrors of a Conspiracy.

foes?

I had a thing to say--but let it go:
The sun is in the heaven; and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gaudes,
To give me audience. If the midnight-bell
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night;
If this same were a church-yard where we
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs:
stand,
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,
Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick,
(Which else runs tickling up and down the
veins,

Making that idiot laughter keep men's eyes,
And strain their checks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes);

Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of
Without a tongue, using conceit alone
words;

Then in despite of brooded watchful day,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts;
But, ah! I will not.

A Mother's Ravings.

I am not mad; this hair I tear, is mine; My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife; Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost: I am not mad-I would to Heaven I were! For then 'tis like I should forget myself: O, if I could, what grief should I forget! Preach some philosophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be canoniz'd, Cardinal; For, being not mad, but sensible of grief, My reasonable part produces reason How I may be deliver'd of these woes, And teaches me to kill or hang myself. If I were mad, I should forget my son, Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he:

Father Cardinal, I have heard you say, That we shall see and know our friends in heaven:

If that be true, I shall see my boy again;
For, since the birth of Cain, the first male-
To him that did but yesterday suspire, [child,
There was not such a gracious creature born.
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud,
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost,
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit;
And so he'll die; and, rising so again,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven,
I shall not know him: therefore, never, never
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.
Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
Const. He talks to me, that never had a son.
K. Phil. You are as fond of grief as of your
child.
[child,
Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me;
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words;
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then have I reason to be fond of grief.

Despondency.

I knit my handkerchief about your brows (The best I had, a princess wrought it me), And I did neyer ask it you again:

And with my hand at midnight held your head;

And like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time;

Saying, What lack you?" and, Where lies your grief?

Or, What good love may I perform for you?
Many a poor man's son would have lain still,
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you;
But you at your sick service had a prince.
Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love,
And call it cunning: do, an if you will;
If Heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill,
Why then you must.-Will you put out mine
eyes?

These eyes that never did, nor never shall,
So much as frown on you?—

Alas! what need you be so boist'rous rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For Heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound!

Nay hear me, Hubert, drive these men away,
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb;

I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word,
Nor look upon the iron angerly: [you,
Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive
Whatever torment you do put me to.-
Is there no remedy?

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes.
Arth. O Heaven! that there were but a mote
in yours,

A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair,
Any annoyance in that precious sense!
Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous
there,

Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. To add to Perfection, superfluous and sus picious.

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,

joy:

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.
Departing Diseases.

Before the curing of a strong discase,
Even in the instant of repair and health,
The fit is strongest; evils that take leave,
On their departure most of all show evil.

Danger lays Hold of any Support. He that stands upon a slipp'ry place, Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.

Arthur's pathetic Speeches to Hubert. Methinks, nobody should be sad but I: Yet, I remember, when I was in France, Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, I should be merry as the day is long

To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper light

To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

In this the antique and well-noted face
Of plain old form is much disfigured:
And, like a shifted wind unto a sail,
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about;
Startles and frights consideration;
Makes sound opinions sick, and truth sus-
pected,

For putting on so new a fashion'd robe.
Murderer's Look.

This is the man should do the bloody deed;
The image of a wicked heinous fault
Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his
Does show the mood of a much troubled breast.
Struggling Conscience.

The color of the king doth come and go Between his purpose and his conscience,

It is the curse of kings, to be attended
By slaves, that take their humors for a warrant
To break into the bloody house of life;
And, on the winking of authority,

To understand a law; to know a meaning
Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it
frowns

More upon humor than advis'd respect,

A Villain's Look, and wicked Zeal. How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds Makes deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by, A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, Quoted, and sign'd, to do a deed of shame, This murder had not come into my mind: Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made a pause,

When I spake darkly what I purposed; Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, Or bid me tell my tale in express words; Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off, [in me. And those thy fears might have wrought fears

A Man's Tears.

Let me wipe off this honorable dew, That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks: My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, Being an ordinary inundation;

But this effusion of such manly drops,
This show'r blown up by tempest of the soul,
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd,
Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven
Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors.
Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury,
And with a great heart heave away this storm:
Commend these waters to those baby-eyes
That never saw the giant-world enrag'd;
Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping.
Drums.

Do but start

An echo with the clamor of thy drum,
And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd,
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine:
Sound but another, and another shall,
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder.
The Approach of Death.

It is too late, the life of all his blood Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling house)

Doth, by the idle comments that it makes,
Foretel the ending of mortality.

Madness occasioned by Poison.

Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room;
It would not out at windows, nor at doors.
There is so hot a summer in my bosom,
That all my bowels crumble up to dust:
I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen
Upon a parchment; and again this fire
Do I shrink up.

Poison'd-ill fare-dead, forsook, cast off;
And none of you will bid the winter come
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw;
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
Thro' my burnt bosom; nor entreat the north
To make his bleak winds kiss my parch'd lips,
And comfort me with cold.

England invincible, if unanimous.
England never did (nor never shall)
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,
But when it first did help to wound itself.
Now these her princes are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms,
And we shall shock them :-Nought shall
make us rue,
If England to itself do rest but true.

§ 27. JULIUS CÆSAR. SHAKSPEARE.

Patriotism.

WHAT is it that you would impart to me? If it be aught toward the general good, Set honor in one eye, and death i'the other,

And I will look on both indifferently:
For, let the gods so speed me, as I love
The name of honor more than I fear death.
Cassius, in Contempt of Cæsar.

I was born free as Cæsar; so were you:
We both have fed as well; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he.
For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
The troubled Tiber chafing with his shores,
Cæsar says to me, "Dar'st thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point?"-Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews; throwing it aside,
And stemming it with hearts of controversy.
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cæsar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink."
I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of
Did I the tired Cæsar: and this man [Tiber
Is now become a god; and Cassius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body,
If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.—
He had a fever when he was in Spain;
And, when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake;
His coward lips did from their color fly;
And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the
world,

Did lose his lustre; I did hear him groan:
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,
Alas! it cried-"Give me some drink, Titi-
nius"-

As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of this majestic world,
And bear the palm alone [Shout-Flourish.
Bru. Another general shout!
I do believe that these applauses are
For some new honors that are heap'd on Cæsar.
Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow
Like a Colossus; and we petty men [world
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find ourselves dishonorable graves.
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?
[yours?
Why should that name be sounded more than
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,
Now in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed,
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd:
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
When went there by an age, since the great flood,
But it was fam'd with more than with one man?
When could they say till now, that talk'd of
Rome,

That her wide walks encompass'd but one man?

Casar's Dislike of Cassius.
Would he were fatter !-but I fear him not:
Yet if my name were liable to fear,

I do not know the man I should avoid
So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much;
He is a great observer, and he looks [plays,
Quite through the deeds of men; he loves no
As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music :
Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort,
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit
That could be mov'd to smile at any thing.
Such men as he be never at heart's ease,
Whiles they behold a greater than themselves;
And therefore are they very dangerous.
I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd,
Than what I fear; for always I am Cæsar.
Spirit of Liberty.

I know where I will wear this dagger then; Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius: Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong;

Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat;
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;
But life, being weary of these worldly bars, i
Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
If I know this, know all the world besides,
That part of tyranny, that I do bear,
I can shake off at pleasure.

Ambition, covered with specious Humility.
But 'tis a common proof,
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber upward turns his face;
But when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend.

Conspiracy dreadful till executed.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing,
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream:
The genius and the mortal instruments
Are then in council; and the state of man,
The nature of an insurrection.
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
Conspiracy:

O, conspiracy!
[night,
Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by
When evils are most free? O, then, by day
Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough
To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none,
Hide it in smiles and affability; [conspiracy;
For if thou path, thy native semblance on,
Not Erebus itself were dim enough
To hide thee from prevention.

Against Cruelty.

Gentle friends, Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully; Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds; And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, Stir up their servants to an act of rage, And after seem to chide them.

Sleep. Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber :

Thou hast no figures, nor no fantasies,
Which busy care draws in the brains of men,
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

supper,

Portia's Speech to Brutus. You have ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at You suddenly arose and walk'd about, Musing, and sighing, with your arms across : And, when I ask'd you what the matter was, You star'd upon me with ungentle looks: I urg'd you further; then you scratch'd your head, And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot: Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not; But, with an angry wafture of your hand, Gave sign for me to leave you: so I did; Fearing to strengthen that impatience, Which seem'd too much enkindled; and, withHoping it was but an effect of humor, [al, Which sometime hath his hour with ev'ry man! It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep; And, could it work so much upon your shape, As it hath much prevail'd on your condition, I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord, Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. Calphurnia to Cæsar, on the Prodigies seen the Night before his Death.

Cal. I never stood on ceremonies, Yet now they fright me. There is one within, Besides the things that we have heard and seen, Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. A lioness hath whelped in the streets; [dead: And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds, In ranks, and squadrons, and right form of war, Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol : The noise of battle hurtled in the air; Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan: And ghosts did shriek, and squeal about the

streets.

His Address to the Conspirators.

I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, Who else must be let blood, who else is rank: If I myself, there is no hour so fit

As Cæsar's death's hour! nor no instrument
Of halfthatworth, as those your swords made rich
With the most noble blood of all this world.
I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard, [smoke,
Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and
Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
I shall not find myself so apt to die;
No place will please me so, no mean of death,
As here by Caesar, and by you cut off,
The choice and master spirits of this age.
Revenge.

Cæsar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Até by his side, come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice,
Cry, "Havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war.
Antony's Funeral Oration.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me

your ears;

I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him!
The evil that men do, lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Cæsar! The noble Brutus
Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Cæsar answer'd it.
Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest,
(For Brutus is an honorable man;
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,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept;
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see, that, on the Lupercal,
I thrice presented him a kingly crown, [tion?
Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambi-
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause;
What cause withholds you then to mourn for
him?

O judgement, thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason!-Bear with me;

My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

But yesterday the word of Caesar might
Have stood against the world: now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.
O masters! if I were dispos'd to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honorable men:
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose