And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy,
Unto their issue!

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle : I remember
The first time ever Cæsar put it on:
'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent,
That day he overcame the Nervii ;—

Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through!
See! what a rent the envious Casca made!
Through this the well-belovèd Brutus stabbed ;
And, as he plucked his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar followed it,
As rushing out of doors, to be resolved
If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no ;
For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel;
Judge, O ye Gods, how dearly Cæsar loved him!
This, was the most unkindest cut of all:

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

Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart :
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,

Even at the base of Pompey's statue,

Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.
Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us, fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourished over us.
Oh, now you weep, and I perceive you feel
The dint of pity: these are gracious drops.
Kind souls !—what! weep you when you but behold
Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look you here!
Here is himself, marred, as you see, by traitors.
Good friends! sweet friends! let me not stir you up
To such a sudden flood of mutiny.

They that have done this deed are honourable ;—
What private griefs they have, alas! I know not.

That made them do it ;-they are wise and honourable,
And will, no doubt, with reason answer you.

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts;

I am no orator, as Brutus is;

But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man,

That love my friend; and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him :
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;
I tell you that which you yourselves do know ;

Show you sweet Caesar's wounds,-poor, poor, dumb

mouths !

And bid them speak for me.

But were I Brutus,

And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

Ex. 175.

Claude Melnotte to Pauline.

Pauline, by pride,

Shakspeare.

Angels have fallen ere thy time by pride-
That sole alloy of thy most lovely mould—
The evil spirit of a bitter love,

And a revengeful heart, had power upon thee.
From my first years my soul was filled with thee;
I saw thee 'midst the flowers the lowly boy
Tended, unmarked by thee-a spirit of bloom,
And joy, and freshness, as if Spring itself
Were made a living thing, and wore thy shape!
I saw thee, and the passionate heart of man
Entered the breast of the wild-dreaming boy,
And from that hour I grew-what to the last
I shall be thine adorer! Well; this love,
Vain, frantic,-guilty, if thou wilt,--became
A fountain of ambition and bright hope;
I thought of tales that by the winter hearth
Old gossips tell-how maidens sprung from kings
Have stooped from their high sphere; how Love, like
Death,

Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook

Beside the sceptre. Thus I made my home
In the soft palace of a fairy Future!

My father died; and I, the peasant-born,
Was my own lord. Then did I seek to rise
Out of the prison of my mean estate;

And, with such jewels as the exploring Mind

Brings from the caves of Knowledge, buy my ransom
From those twin gaolers of the daring heart-
Low birth and iron fortune. Thy bright image,
Glassed in my soul, took all the hues of glory,
And lured me on to those inspiring toils
By which man masters men!
For thee I grew
A midnight student o'er the dreams of sages!
For thee I sought to borrow from each Grace,
And every Muse, such attributes as lend

Ideal charms to Love. I thought of thee,
And Passion taught me poesy-of thee,
And on the painter's canvas grew the life
Of beauty. Art became the shadow

Of the dear starlight of thy haunting eyes!
Men called me vain-some mad-I heeded not;
But still toiled on-hoped on-for it was sweet,
If not to win, to feel more worthy thee.
At last, in one mad hour, I dared to pour
The thoughts that burst their channels into song,
And sent them to thee-such a tribute, lady,
As beauty rarely scorns, even from the meanest :
The name-appended by the burning heart
That longed to show its idol what bright things
It had created-yea, the enthusiast's name,
That should have been thy triumph, was thy scorn.
That very hour-when passion, turned to wrath,
Resembled hatred most-when thy disdain
Made my whole soul a chaos-in that hour
The tempters found me a revengeful tool

For their revenge. Thou hadst trampled on the worm-
It turned and stung thee.

I will not tell thee of the throes-the struggles

The anguish the remorse: No-let it pass,
And let me come to such most poor atonement
Yet in my power.

Lytton.

SENATORIAL AND FORENSIC ORATORY.

Ex. 176. Lord Chatham's Reply to Mr. Horace Walpole.

Sir,-The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honourable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency, charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny; but content myself with wishing, that I may be one of those whose follies may cease with their youth, and not of those who continue ignorant in spite of age and experience.

Whether youth can be attributed to any man as a reproach, I will not, Sir, assume the province of determining; but surely, age may justly become contemptible, if the opportunities which it brings have passed away without improvement; and vice appear to prevail when the passions have subsided. The wretch who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand errors, continues still to blunder, and

in whom age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object either of abhorrence or contempt; and deserves not that his grey head should secure him from insults. Much more, Sir, is he to be abhorred, who, as he has advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and become more wicked with less temptation; who prostitutes himself for money which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remains of his life in the ruin of his country.

But youth, Sir, is not my only crime: I have been accused of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either imply some peculiarities of gesture, or a dissimulation of my real sentiments, and the adoption of the opinions and language of another man.

In the first sense, Sir, the charge is too trifling to be confuted, and deserves to be mentioned only that it may be despised. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own language; and though I may, perhaps, have some ambition to please this gentleman, I shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his diction or his mien, however matured by age or modelled by experience.

But if any man shall, by charging me with theatrical behaviour, imply that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator and a villain; nor shall any protection shelter him from the treatment which he deserves. I shall, on such an occasion, without scruple, trample upon all those forms with which wealth and dignity entrench themselves, nor shall any thing, but age, restrain my resentment; age, which always brings with it one privilege— that of being insolent and supercilious without punishment.

But with regard, Sir, to those whom I have offended, I am of opinion that if I had acted a borrowed part, I should have avoided their censure: the heat which offended them is the ardour of conviction, and that zeal for the service of my country which neither hope nor fear shall influence me to suppress. I will not sit unconcerned while my liberty is invaded, nor look in silence upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavours, at whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag the thief to justice, whoever may protect him in his villany, and whoever may partake of his plunder. Chatham.

Ex. 177. Lord Thurlow's Reply to the Duke of Grafton.

My Lords, I am amazed, yes, my Lords, I am amazed at his Grace's speech. The noble duke cannot look before him,

R

behind him, or on either side of him, without seeing some noble peer who owes his seat in this House to his successful exertions in the profession to which I belong. Does he not feel that it is as honourable to owe it to these, as to being the accident of an accident? To all these noble lords, the language of the noble duke is as applicable and as insulting as it is to myself. But I do not fear to meet it single and alone.

No one venerates the peerage more than I do. But, my Lords, I must say that the peerage solicited me, not Í the peerage. Nay, more, I can and will say, that, as a peer of parliament, as speaker of this right honourable House, as keeper of the great seal, as guardian of his Majesty's conscience, as lord high chancellor of England, nay, even in that character alone in which the noble duke would think it an affront to be considered, but which character none can deny me, as a Man, I am at this moment as respectable, I beg leave to add, as much respected, as the proudest peer I now look down upon. Thurlow.

Ex. 178. Lord Chatham on the American War.

I cannot, my Lords, I will not, join in congratulation on misfortune and disgrace. This, my Lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment. It is not a time for adulation: the smoothness of flattery cannot save us in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now necessary to instruct the throne in the language of truth. We must, if possible, dispel the delusion and darkness which envelop it; and display, in its full danger and genuine colours, the ruin which is brought to our doors. Can ministers still presume to expect support in their infatuation? Can parliament be so dead to its dignity and duty, as to give its support to measures thus obtruded and forced upon it? Measures, my Lords, which have reduced this late flourishing empire to scorn and contempt! But yesterday, and Britain might have stood against the world: now, none so poor as to do her reverence! The people, whom we at first despised as rebels, but whom we now acknowledge as enemies, are abetted against us, supplied with every military store, have their interests consulted, and their ambassadors entertained, by our inveterate enemy; and ministers do not-and dare not-interpose with dignity or effect. The desperate state of our army abroad is in part known. No man more highly esteems and honours the British troops than I do; I know their virtues and their valour; I know they can achieve any thing but impossi