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Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,

I'll speak to it, though earth itself should gape,

And bid me hold my peace.
I pray you, sirs,
If you have hitherto concealed this sight,
Let it be tenable in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue;
I will requite your love; so fare you well.
Upon the platform 'twixt eleven and twelve
I'll visit you.


It can hardly be too frequently impressed on the mind of the learner, that when the style of a writer is very suggestive, when his glimpses of character are very significant, when his expressions have reference to something presupposed to something unsaid, the true idea will not be developed by what is said independently of the manner in which it is said.

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When the above dialogue is read, if the pupil should be allowed to utter the phrase, "Very like, very like," as if it were merely an assent to the declaration "It would have much amazed you," — the idea intended to be conveyed by the writer will not be expressed. — Hamlet suspected that his father had been murdered, and when Horatio detailed to him the circumstances respecting the appearance of the ghost, he became distressed and agitated, and said—“Indeed, indeed, sir, but this troubles me.”He then makes anxious and earnest inquiry relative to the dress, looks, and appearance of the ghost and learning that it resembled his father in every particular-that its countenance was pale and sorrowful, he must have been overpowered by the force of his feelings—and oppressed with the weignt of filial distress, he utters the words -"I would I had been there!"— in the manner of a soliloquy; and then pausing a moment, as one in deep thought, and without looking at Horatio, or even regarding the words "It would have much amazed you" — he gives utterance to the painful conviction that his father had been murdered, in the exclamation "Very like”—then after a moment's delay occasioned by the agony of his feelings, he reiterates the exclamation-"Very like "with increased force of expression. He then turns to Horatio, and with a suitable transition of voice —a tone indicating tenderness, grief, and sorrow, says, 11 "Staid it long?". It is conceded that the attitude of the reader and the cast of his countenance will aid somewhat in giving a full and vivid expression to the sentiment in this case; still, unless he fully understand such elocutionary principles as are arranged and illustrated in the Practical Reader, and also in the introductory portion of this book, he will, in most cases, utter merely words, sounds, not thought or sentiments.

75. Street Scene: Brutus and Cassius.

Cassius. WILL you go see the order of the course?
Brutus. Not I.

Cas. I pray you, do.

Bru. I am not gamesome; I do lack some part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.

Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires;

I'll leave you.

Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late;
I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And show of love as I was wont to have;
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.

Bru. Cassius,

Be not deceived: if I have veiled my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am,

Of late, with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give some soil perhaps to my behavior;
But let not therefore my good friends be grieved,
Among which number, Cassius, be you one;
Nor construe any further my neglect,

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,

Forgets the show of love to other men.

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion; By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried

Thoughts of great value, worthly cogitations.

Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

Bru. No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself,

But by reflection by some other things.

Cas. 'Tis just.

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no such mirrors as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome, —
Except immortal Cæsar,-speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead
That you would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me?

me, Cassius,

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear;
And since you know you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which you yet know not of.
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus :
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protester; if you know,

That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them; or if you know,

That I profess myself in banqueting,

To all the rout; then hold me dangerous.

Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear the people

Choose Cæsar for their king.

Cas. Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.

Bru. I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well.

But wherefore do you hold me here so long?

What is it that you would impart to me?

If it be aught toward the general good,

Set honor in one eye, and death in the other,
And I will look on both indifferently:

For let the gods so speed me, as I love

The name of honor more than I fear death.

Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,

As well as I do know your outward favor.
Well, honor is the subject of my story. -
I cannot tell what you and other men

Think of this life; but for my single self,
I had as lief not be, as live to be

In awe of such a thing as I myself.

I was born free as Cæsar; so were you;
We both have fed as well; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he
For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
The troubled Tiber chafing with its shores,
Cæsar says to me, "Dar'st thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point?"- Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bade him follow; so indeed he did.
The torrent roared, and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews, throwing it aside,
And stemming it with hearts of controversy
But ere we could arrive the point proposed,
Cæsar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink "
I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear; so from the waves of Tiber
Did I the tired Cæsar ;- and this man

Is now become a god, and Cassius is

A wretched creature, and must bend his body
If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.

He had a fever when he was in Spain,

And when the fit was on him, I did mark

How he did shake. 'Tis true, this god did shake;
His coward lips did from their color fly,
And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world,
Did lose its lustre; I did hear him groan;
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,
Alas! it cried, "Give me some drink, Titinius'
As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper should

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So get the start of the majestic world,
And bear the palm alone.

Bru. Another general shout!

I do believe that these applauses are

For some new honors that are heaped on Cæsar.

Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus; and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs, and peep about

To find ourselves dishonorable graves.

Men at some times are masters of their fates;

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Brutus and Cæsar what should be in that Cæsar?

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Why should that name be sounded, more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a name;
Sound them - it doth become the mouth as well,
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with them.—
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar.
Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meats doth this our Cæsar feed,
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
When went there by an age, since the great flood,
But it was famed with more than with one man?
When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome,
That her wide walls encompassed but one man?
O, you and I have heard our fathers say,

There was a Brutus once that would have brooked
The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome,
As easily as a king.

Bru. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;
What you would work me to, I have some aim;
How I have thought of this, and of these times,
I shall recount hereafter; for this present,

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1 would not, so with love I might entreat you, Be any further moved. What you have said,

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