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much with your hands ; but use all gently: For in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. Oh! it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious, perriwig pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings; who (for the most part) are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise. Pray
Be not too tame, neither ; but let your own discretion be your tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action ; with this special observance, that you
oʻerstep not the modesty of nature ; for any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing ; whose end is--to hold as 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, seorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time, his form and pressure. Now, this overdone, or come tardy of, though it make the unskil. ful laugh, cannot but niake the judicious grieve, the censure of one of which inust, in your allowancu, oʻerweigh a whole theatre of others. Oh! There be play. ers that I have seen play and heard others praise, and that highly, that, reither having the accent of Christian, por the gait of Christian, pagan nor nico, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity su abominably. 11.-Douglas' Account of himself
TRAGEDY OF DOUGLAS,
MY name is Norval. On the Grampian hills
My father feeds hís flocks; a frugal swain,
Whose constar cares were to increase his store,
And keep his only son myself a' home.
For I had heard of bat:les, and I long'd
To follow to the field some warlike lord;
And heaven soon granted what my sire denied.
This moon, which. raise last night, round as my shield,
Had not yet fili'd her horis, when by her light,
A band of fierce barbarians, from the hills,
Rush'd like a torrent, down upon the vail,
Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shepherds fled
For safety and for succor. I alone,
With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows,
Hover'd about the enemy, and mark'd
The road he took ; then hasted to my friends,
Whom with a troop of fifty chosen men,
I met advancing. The pursuit I led,
Till we o'ertook the spoil encumber'd foe.
We fought-and conquer'd. E e a sword was drawn,
An arrow from my bow had pierc'd their chief,
Who wore that day the arms which now I wear.
Returning home in triumph, I disdain'd
The shepherd's slothful life ; and having heard
That our good king had sumuond his bold peers,
To lead their warri rs to the Carron side,
I left my father's house and rook with me
A chosen servant to conduct my stepe-
Yon trembling coward, wlio forsook' his master.
Journeving with this intent, I pass'd these towers,
And heaven directed, came this day to do
The happy deed, that gilds my humble name.
"Ill.-Douglas' Account of the Hermit.-18.
BENEATH a mountain's brow, the most remote
And inaccessible, by shepherds trod,
In a deep cave, dug by no mortai hand,
A hermit liv'd; a melancholly man,
Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains.
Austere and lonely, cruel to himself,
Did thev report him ; the c ld earth his bed,
Water his drink, his food the sliepheids' alms.
I vent to ee him ; and my heart was touch'd
With rev'rerice and with pitv. Mild he spake;
And, entering on discourse, such stories told,
As made me oft revisit his sad cell.
For he had been a soldier in his youth;
And fought in famous battles, when the peers
Of Europe by the bold Godfredo led,
Against th' uurping infidel display'd
Tie blessed cross, and won the Holy Land.
Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire
His speech struck froin me, the old man would shake
His years away, and act his young encounters :
Then, having show'd his wounds, he'd sit him down,
And all the live long day discriurse of war.
'To help my fancy, in the sm oth green turf
He cut the figures of the marshald hosts;
Describ'd the motions, and explain’d the use
Of the deep colụmn and the ler grhen'd line,
The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm;
Firall that Sıracen or Christian knew
Of war's vast art, was to this hermit known.
IV.-Sempronius' Speech for War-TRAG. OF CATO,
MY voice is still for war. Gols! Can a Roman senate long debate, Which of the two to choose, slavery or death! No-let us rise at once, gird on our swords, And at the head of our remaining troops. Attack the foe, break through the thick array Of his throng'd legions, and charge home upon him. Perhaps some arm more lucky than the rest, May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage: Rise, Fathers, rise ; 'tis Rome demands your help: Rise and revenge her slaughter'd citizens, Or share their fate. The corps of half her senate Manure the fields of Thessaly, while we Sit here deliberating in cold debates, If we should sacrifice our lives to honor, Or wear them out in servitude and chains. Rouse up, for shame! Our brothers of Pharsalia Point at their wounds, and cry aloud, To battle: Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow, And Scipio's gliost walks unreveng'd amongst us.
V.-Lucius' Speech for Peace.-IB.
MY thoughts, I must confess are turn'd on peace ;
Already have our quarrels fill'd the world
With widows and with orphans: Scythia mourns
Our guilty wars, and earth's remotest regions
Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome:
'Tis time to sheath the sword, and spare mankind.
'Tis not Cesar, but the gods, my Fathers!
The sds declare against us, and repe!
Our vain attempts. To urge the fie to battle
(Prompied by blind revenge and wild despair)
Were to refuse th'awards of Providence,
And not to rest in heaven's determination.
Already have we shown cur love to Rome;
Now let us show submission to the gods.
We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves,
Bu, free the commonwealth. When this end fails,
Arms have no further use. Our coutry's cause,
That drew our swords, now wrests them from our hands,
And bids us not delight in Roman blood
Unprofitably shed. What men could do
Is done already Heaven and earth will witness,
If Rome must fall that we are innccent.
VI.-Hotspur's Accoun! of the Fof.-HENRY IV.
MY :ege, I did deny no prisoners.
But I remeinber, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord ; neat ; trimly dress'd;
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd,
Show'd like a stubble land, at harvest home.
He was perfum'd like a milliner ;
And, 'twixt his finger and his thumb, he held
A pouncet box, which, ever and anon,
He gave his nose
And still he smil'd and talk'd:
And as the soldiers bare dead bodies by,
He call'd them untaught knaves, unniannerly,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
With many holiday and lady terms
He question'd me ; among the rest, demanded
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf:
I then, all smarting with my wounds, being gallid
To be so pester'd with a popinjay,
Out of my grief and my impatience,
Answer'd-negligently know not what
He should or slould not; for he made me mad,
To see him shine so brisk, and sinell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman,
Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (heaven save the mark :)
And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was spermaceti for an inward bruise ;
And that it was great pity, (so it was),
This villanous saitpetre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harn less earth.
Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed
So cowardly ; and but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.
This bald unj inted chat of his, ny lord,
I answer'd indirectlv, as I said ;
And I besi ech you, let not this report
Come current for an accusation,
Betwixt my love, and your high Majesty.
VII.- Hotspur's Soliloquy on the Contents of a Letter.--.
“ BUT, for mine own part my lord, I could be well
contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your
house.". -He could be contented to be there! Why
is he not then? In respect of the love he bears our
house ? He shows in this, he loves his own barn better
than he loves our house. Let me see some more.
66 The purpose you úodertake is dangerous." Why, that's cerlain ! 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink;
but I tell you, my lord Fool, out of this nettle danger,
we pluck this flower safely. “ The purpose you under-
take is dangerous ; the friends you have named uncer-
tain; the time itself unsorted ; and your whole plot too
light fur the counterpoise of so great an opposition.".
Say you su, say you so ? I say unto you again, you are
a shallow, cowardly hind, and you lie." What a lackbrain
is this ! Our plot is a good plot as ever was laid ; our
friends true and constant; a good plot; good friends,
and full of expectation; an excellent plot, very good
friends. What a frosty spirited rogue is this! Why, my
lord of York coinmands the plot, and the general course
of the action. By this hand, if I were pow by this ras.
cal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not
my father, my uncle and myself Lord Edinund Mor-
timer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower Is there
not, besides, the Douglass? Have I not all their letters
to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month?
And are there not some of them set forward already ?
What a Pagan rascal is this! An infidel !-Ha! You
shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart,
will be to the king, and lay open all our proceedings.
0! I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for inov.
ing such a dish of skimmed inilk with so honorable an
action. Hang him! Let him tell the king.
prepared. I will set forward to night.
VIII.-Oihello's Apology for his Murriugem
TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO.
MOST potent, grare and reverend seigniors:
My very noble and approv'd good mas:ers :
That I have ta'en a way this old man's daughter,
It is nost true ; true, I have married her:
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I in speech
And little bless'dwith the et phrase of pe.ice:
For since thes: arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now, son e nine moons wasted, they have us'a
Their dearest action, in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak.
More thau pertains to feats of broils and battle ;
And therefore, little shall I grace my cause,
In speaking of myself. Yet by your patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver,
Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,