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When in a nation, humbled by the will
Of Providence, beneath a haughty foe,
A person rises up, by nature rear'd,
Sublime, above the level of mankind;

Like that bright bow the hand of the most High
Bends in the wat'ry cloud: He is the sign

Of prosp❜rous change and interposing Heav'n. Alonzo.

7.—Alfred, and Devon returned successful.-Thomson. Alf. My friend returned !

O welcome, welcome! but what happy tidings
Smile in thy cheerful countenance ?

Dev. My liege,

Your troops have been successful.-But to Heaven Ascend the praise! For sure the event exceeds

The hand of man.

Alf. How was it, noble Devon ?

Dev. You know my castle is not hence far distant.
Thither I sped; and, in a Danish habit,
The trenches passing, by a secret way
Known to myself alone, emerg'd at once
Amid my joyful soldiers. There I found
A generous few, the veteran, hardy gleanings
Of many a hapless fight. They with a fierce
Heroic fire inspirited each other;

Resolv'd on death, disdaining to survive
Their dearest country." If we fall," I cry'd,
"Let us not tamely fall like cowards!
"No; let us live-or let us die, like men!
"Come on, my friends: to Alfred we will cut
"Our glorious way; or, as we nobly perish,
"Will offer to the genius of our country

"Whole hecatombs of Danes."-As if one soul
Had mov'd them all, around their heads they flash'd
Their flaming faulchions" Lead us to those Danes!
"Our country!-vengeance !" was the general cry.
Straight on the careless drowsy camp we rush'd,
And rapid, as the flame devours the stubble,
Bore down the heartless Danes. With this success
Our enterprise increas'd. Not now contented

To hew a passage through the flying herd;
We, unremitting, urg'd a total rout.

The valiant Hubba bites the bloody field,

With twice six hundred Danes around him strew'd. Alf. My glorious friend! this action has restor'd Our sinking country.

But where, my noble cousin, are the rest

Of our brave troops?

Dev. On t'other side the stream,

That half incloses this retreat, I left them.
Rous'd from the fear, with which it was congeal'd
As in a frost, the country pours amain.
The spirit of our ancestors is up,

The spirit of the free! and with a voice

That breathes success, they all demand their king. Alf. Quick let us join them, and improve their ardour. We cannot be too hasty to secure

The glances of occasion.

Alfred.

8.-The Quarrel of Brutus and Cassius.-Shakspeare.
Cas. THAT you have wrong'd me, doth appear in this;
You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella,
For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
Wherein my letter (praying on his side,
Because I knew the man) was slighted of.

Bru. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case.
Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet
That ev'ry nice offence should bear its comment.
Bru. Yet let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm,
To sell and mart your offices for gold
To undeservers.

Cas. I an itching palm?

You know, that you are Brutus that speak this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide its head.
Cas. Chastisement !.

Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember! Did not great Julius bleed for justice sake?

What villain touch'd his body, that did stab,
And not for justice? What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for supporting robbers; shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes?
And sell the mighty meed of our large honours
For so much trash, as may be grasped thus?
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.

Cas. Brutus, bay not me,

I'll not endure it; you forget yourself,
To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.

Bru. Go to; you are not, Cassius.
Cas. I am.

Bru. I say, you are not.

Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself— Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther. Bru. Away, slight man!

Cas. Is't possible ?

Bru. Hear me, for I will speak.

Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

Cas. O Gods! ye Gods! must I endure all this? Bru. All this? ay more. Fret till your proud heart breaks;

Go, tell your slaves how choleric you are,

And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
Must I observe you? must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humour? By the gods,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Tho' it do split you: for, from this day forth
I'll use you for my mirth, yea for my laughter,
When you are waspish.

Cas. Is it come to this?

Bru. You say, you are a better soldier ;
Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,
And it shall please me well. For mine own part,
I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

Cas. You wrong me every way-you wrong me, Brutus;

I said, an elder soldier, not a better.

Did I say better?

Bru. If you did, I care not.

Cas. When Cæsar liv'd, he durst not thus have mov'd me.

Bru. Peace, peace, you durst not so have tempted him. Cas. I durst not!

Bru. No.

Cas. What! durst not tempt him?

Bru. For your life you durst not.

Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love; I may do what I shall be sorry for.

Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am arm'd so strong in honesty, That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not. I did send to you For certain sums of gold, which you denied me: For I can raise no money by vile means: By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hands of peasants their vile trash, By any indirection. I did send

To you for gold to pay my legions,

Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius?
Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?

When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dash him to pieces.

Cas. I deny'd you not.

Bru. You did.

Cas. I did not-He was but a fool

That brought my answer back.-Brutus hath riv'd my heart.

A friend should bear a friend's infirmities,

But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
Bru. I do not. Still you practise them on me.
Cas. You love me not.

Bru. I do not like your faults.

Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults.

Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus.

Cas. Come Antony, and young Octavius, come! Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,

For Cassius is a-weary of the world.

Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother;
Check'd by a bondman; all his faults observ'd,
Set in a note-book, learn'd and conn'd by rote,
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep
My spirit from mine eyes!-There is my dagger,
And here my naked breast-within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold.
If that thou need'st a Roman's, take it forth.
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:
Strike as thou did'st at Cæsar; for I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better
Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.

Bru. Sheathe your dagger; *

Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb,
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire;
Which much inforced, shews a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.

Cas. Hath Cassius liv'd

To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When griefs and blood ill-tempered vexeth him?
Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too.
Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.
Bru. And my heart too.

Cas. O Brutus !

Bru. What's the matter?

Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me, When that rash humour which my mother gave Makes me forgetful?

me

Bru. Yes, Cassius, and from henceforth When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, "He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. Julius Cæsar

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