DEFINITIONS.-De pūt ́ed, assigned to another. Trůn'çheon, a short staff of office. Po'ten çy, power. Gall, to injure. Gnärled, full of knots.

NOTES.-The extract is from Act II. Scene 2 of Measure for Measure. Isabella is pleading for the life of her brother, who has been condemned to death by Angelo, lord deputy in the absence of Vincentio, the reigning duke of Vienna.

Jove, the chief divinity of the ancient Romans; Jupiter.

1.

118.-POLONIUS TO LAERTES.

THERE! my blessing with you,

And these few precepts in thy memory

Look thou charácter: Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportioned thought his act.

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.

The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,—
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in,

Bear it, that the opposéd may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice;
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.

2. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man;

And they in France of the best rank and station
Are of a most select and generous chief in that.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be;

For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all,-To thine own self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,

Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Farewell! My blessing season this in thee!

DEFINITION.-1. Char ǎe'ter, to infix strongly.

NOTE.-Po lō'ni us to La er'tēs is from Act I. Scene 3 of Hamlet. Polo. nius gives this advice to his son on the eve of his departure for France.

119.-SPEECH OF MARK ANTONY.

Antony. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interréd with their bones:
So let it be with Cæsar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Cæsar answered it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest
(For Brutus is an honorable man;
So are they all,—all honorable men),
Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honorable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:

Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept ;
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honorable man.

You all did see that on the Lupercal

I thrice presented him a kingly crown,

Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honorable man.

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause :
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason!

Bear with me; ́

My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar,

And I must pause till it come back to me.

First Cit. Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.

Second Cit. If thou consider rightly of the matter,

Cæsar has had great wrong.

Third Cit. Has he, masters?

I fear there will a worse come in his place.

Fourth Cit. Marked ye his words? He would not take

the crown;

Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious.

First Cit. If it be found so, some will dear abide it. Second Cit. Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with

weeping.

Third Cit. There's not a nobler man in Rome than

Antony.

Fourth Cit. Now mark him : he begins again to speak Antony. But yesterday, the word of Cæsar might

Have stood against the world: now lies he there,

And none so poor to do him reverence.

O masters! if I were disposed to stir

Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,

and Cassius wrong,

Who, you all know, are honorable men.

I will not do them wrong: I rather choose

To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you,
Than I will wrong such honorable men.
But here's a parchment with the seal of Cæsar,
I found it in his closet, 'tis his will;

Let but the commons hear this testament
(Which-pardon me-I do not mean to read),
And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood;
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy

Unto their issue.

Fourth Cit. We'll hear the will. Read it, Mark Antony. All. The will, the will! We will hear Cæsar's will! Antony. Have patience, gentle friends; I must not read it: It is not meet you know how Cæsar loved you. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men ; And, being men, hearing the will of Cæsar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad : 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs; For if you should, O, what would come of it? Fourth Cit. Read the will; we'll hear it, Antony; You shall read us the will,-Cæsar's will.

Antony. Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile? I have o'ershot myself, to tell you of it.

I fear I wrong the honorable men

Whose daggers have stabbed Cæsar; I do fear it.

Fourth Cit. They were traitors: Honorable men !

All. The will! the testament !

Second Cit. They were villains, murderers. The will! read the will!

Antony. You will compel me, then, to read the will? Then make a ring about the corpse of Cæsar,

And let me show you him that made the will.
Shall I descend? And will you give me leave?
All. Come down.

Second Cit. Descend. (He comes down from the pulpit.)
Third Cit. You shall have leave.

Fourth Cit. A ring; stand round.

First Cit. Stand from the hearse, stand from the body.
Second Cit. Room for Antony,-most noble Antony.
Antony. Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off.
All. Stand back! room! bear back!

Antony. 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-beloved 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 you 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.

O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!

Then I, and you, and all of us, fell down,