Br. Leave her to my care.

Ti. Farewell, for ever!
Br. For ever.

[BRUTUS re-ascends the tribunal. Lictors attend!- -conduct your pris'ner forth! Val. (Rapidly and anxiously.) Whither!

[All the characters bend forward in great anxiety. Br. To death!—(All start.) When you do reach the spot

My hand shall wave, your signal for the act,

Then let the trumpet's sound proclaim it done!

[TITUS is conducted out by the LICTORS. A dead march-which gradually dies away as it becomes more distant. BRUTUS remains seated in a melan

choly posture on the tribunal.

Poor youth! Thy pilgrimage is at an end!
A few sad steps have brought thee to the brink
Of that tremendous precipice, whose depth
No thought of man can fathom. Justice, now,
Demands her victim! A little moment-
And I am childless!—One effort, and 'tis past!—

[He rises and waves his hand, convulsed with agita-
tion, then drops on his seat, and shrouds his face
with his toga. Three sounds of the trumpet are
heard instantly. All the characters assume atti-
tudes of deep misery.-BRUTUS starts up wildly,
descends to the front in extreme agitation, looks out
on the side by which TITUS departed for an instant,
then, with an hysterical burst, exclaims,

Justice is satisfied, and Rome is free!

[BRUTUS falls.-The characters group around him.

LESSON LXXXIX.

On the Being of a God.-Young.

RETIRE ;-the world shut out-thy thoughts call home!

Imagination's airy wing repress ;

Lock up thy senses;-let no passion stir ;

Wake all to Reason ;---let her reign alone :--

Then, in thy soul's deep silence, and the depth
Of nature's silence,-midnight, thus inquire,
As I have done; and shall inquire no more.
In Nature's channel, thus the questions run.
What am I? and from whence? I nothing know,
But that I am; and, since I am, conclude
Something eternal. Had there e'er been nought,
Nought still had been; eternal there must be.
But what eternal ?-why not human race;
And Adam's ancestors without an end?—
That's hard to be conceived; since every link
Of that long-chain'd succession is so frail:
Can every part depend, and not the whole?
Yet, grant it true, new difficulties rise :

I'm still quite out at sea, nor see the shore.
Whence earth, and these bright orbs ?-eternal, too?—
Grant matter was eternal; still these orbs
Would want some other father. Much design
Is seen in all their motions, all their makes.
Design implies intelligence and art;

That can't be from themselves—or man; that art
Man scarce can comprehend, could man bestow?
And nothing greater, yet allowed than man.—
Who, motion, foreign to the smallest grain,
Shot through vast masses of enormous weight?
Who bade brute matter's restive lump assume
Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly?
Has matter innate motion? then, each atom,
Asserting its indisputable right

To dance, would form a universe of dust.

Has matter none? then whence these glorious forms,
And boundless flights, from shapeless, and reposed?
Has matter more than motion? Has it thought,
Judgment, and genius? Is it deeply learn'd
In mathematics? Has it framed such laws,
Which, but to guess, a Newton made immortal?----
If so, how each sage atom laughs at me,

Who think a clod inferior to a man!

If art, to form; and counsel to conduct—
And that with greater far than human skill,
Resides not in each block;-a GODHEAD reigns.-
And, if a God there is, that God how great!

LESSON XC.

Henry V. to his Soldiers.-SHAKSPEARE.

ONCE more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with the English dead!

In

peace, there's nothing so becomes a man,

As modest stillness and humility:

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage;
Then, lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon!

Now, set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide;
Hold hard the breath; and bend up every spirit
To its full height. Now, on, you noblest English!
Whose blood is fetch'd from fathers of war proof;
Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders,

Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought,
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument!
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start.-The game's afoot!—
Follow your spirit; and, upon this charge,
Cry, God for Harry, England, and St. George!

LESSON XCI.

Marcellus's Speech to the Mob.—IB.

WHEREFORE rejoice? that Cæsar comes in triumph!
What conquest brings he home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome,

To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels?

You blocks! you stones! you worse than senseless things!
Oh, you hard hearts! you cruel men of Rome!
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops-

Your infants in your arms-and there have sat
The live-long day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome?
And, when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made a universal shout,

That Tiber trembled underneath his banks,
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in his concave shores ?

And do you now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out a holiday?

And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Begone!-

Run to your houses! fall upon your knees!
Pray to the Gods to intermit the plague,
That needs must light on this ingratitude!

LESSON XCII.

Henry V's Speech before the Battle of Agincourt.—IB. WHAT'S he that wishes for more men from England? My cousin Westmoreland !-No, my fair cousin; If we are mark'd to die, we are enow

To do our country loss; and, if to live,

The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
No, no, my lord! wish not a man from England!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, throughout my host,
That he who hath no stomach to this fight,
May straight depart: his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company!
This day is called the Feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a-tiptoe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian !
He that outlives this day, and sees old age,
Will, yearly on the vigil, feast his neighbours:
And say-To-morrow is Saint Crispian!
Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars.
Old men forget, yet shall not all forget,

But they'll remember with advantages,

What feats they did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouths as household words,-
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Glo'ster,
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememberéd.

This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian's day shall ne'er go by,
From this time to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers!
For he, to-day, that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother-be he e'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;

And, gentlemen in England, now a-bed,

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispian's day.

LESSON XCIII.

Rolla to the Peruvians.-SHERIDAN.

My brave associates !-partners of my toil, my feelings, and my fame! Can Rolla's words add vigour to the virtuous energies which inspire your hearts ?-No;-you have judged, as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea by which these bold invaders would delude you.-Your generous spirit has compared, as mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, can animate their minds and ours.- -They, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for plunder, and extended rule;-we, for our country, our altars, and our homes.-They follow an adventurer whom they fear, and obey a power which they hate ;—we serve a monarch whom we love,-a God whom we adore.-Whene'er they move in anger, desolation tracks their progress!-Whene'er they pause in amity, affliction mourns their friendship. -They boast they come but to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error!-Yesthey-they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves the slaves of passion, avarice, and