« السابقةمتابعة »
And here my naked breast within, a heart
Brus. Sheath your dagger,
Cas. Hath Cassius lived
Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill tempered too.
Bru. Yes, Cassius ; and from henceforth, When you are over earnest with your Brutus,
He'i think your mother chides, and leave you so.
II.-SPEECHES AND SOLILOQUIES.
TRAGEDY OF HAMLET. SPEAK the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you ; trippiugly on the torgue. But if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town crier had spoken my lines.
And do not saw the air too much with your bands; but use all gently : For in the very torrent, iempest, 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 bear a robusteous, 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 you avoid it.
Be not too tame, neither ; but let your own discretion be your tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word 10 the action! with this special observance, that you o'er step 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, scorn 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 unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of one of which must, in your allowance o'er weigh a whole theatre of others. Oh! There be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, that, neither having the accent of Christian, nor the gait of Christian, pagan nor man, have so strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of Nature's journey men had made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably. 11.-Douglas' Account of himself.
TRAGEDY OF DOUGLA3.
We fought-and conquer'd. Ere a sword was drawn,
III. -Douglas' Account of the Hermit.-13.
BENEATH a mountain's brow, the most remote And inaccessible, by shepherd's trod, In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand, A hermit liv'd; a melancholy man, Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains. Austere and lonely, cruel to himself, Did they report him ; the cold earth his bed, Water his drink, his food the shepherd's aims. I went to see him; and my heart was touch'd With rev'rence and with pity. Mild be 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' usurping infidel display'd The blessed cross, and won the Holy Land. Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire His speech struck from me, the old man would shake His years away, and act his young encounters : Then, having show'd his wounds, he'd sit lim down, And all the live long day discourse of war. To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf He cut the figures of the marshalld hosts; Describ'd the inotions, and explain'd the use Of the deep column and the lengthen'd line, The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm;
For, all that Saracen or Christian knew
Of war's vast art, was to this hermit known.
MY voice is still for war.
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 gods declare against us, and repel Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle (Prompted by blind revenge and wild despair) Were to refute th' awards of Providence, And not to rest in heaven's determination. Already have we shown our love to Rome; Now let us show submission to the gods. We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves, But free the cominonwealth. When this end fails,
Arms have no further use. Our country's cause,
VI.-Hotspur's Account of the Fop.--HENRY IV.
MY liege I did deny no prisoners. But I remember 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; triinly 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 be smil'd and talk'd : And as the soldiers bare dead bodies by, He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse Betwixt the wind and his nobility, With many holiday and lady terms He question'd me; amongst 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-I know not what He should or should not; for he made me mad, To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman, Of guns, aud 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 saltpetre should be digg'd Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed So cowardly; and but for these vile guns,