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(For now I feel you nigh,) I dedicate
This arm to the destruction of the King
And of his race! O, keep me pitiless ;
Expel all human weakness from my frame,
That this keen weapon shake not, when his heart
Should feel its point; and if he has a child
Whose blood is needful to the sacrifice
My country asks, harden my soul to shed it!

8 61. Exercises in Middle Pitch. (See $ 42.)

A pure and unaspirated quality of voice is generally appropriate in these exercises in middle pitch; but Macbeth's speech (7) is an exception.

1. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank !

Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night,
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica! Look, how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patens of bright gold:
There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st,
But in his motion like an angel sings,

Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims ; odigela

Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close us in, we cannot hear it.

2. Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.

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 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.

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3. When I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies in me; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow. When I see kings lying by those who deposed them, — when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, factions, and debates of mankind. When I read the several dates of the tombs, of some that died yesterday and some six hundred years ago, I consider that great day when we shall all of us be

contemporațies, and make our appearance together., chure whis live et the same time -Ali 4. What'! will a play tricks', will he indulge

Koncert
And just proportion, fashionable mien,
And pretty face, in presence of his God?
Or will he seek to dazzle me with tropes
As with the diamond on his lily hand,
And play his brilliant parts before my eyes,

When I am hungry for the bread of life'?
5.

How beautiful is night!
A dewy freshness fills the silent air ;
No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain

Breaks the serene of heaven;
In full-orbed glory yonder moon divine
Rolls through the dark blue depths.

Beneath her steady ray

The desert-circle spreads
Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky.

How beautiful is night!
6. My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began ;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!

The child is father of the man,
And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.
7. Macbeth. What man dare, I dare:

Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
The armed rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger,
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble. Or, be alive again,
And dare me to the desert with thy sword:
If trembling I inhibit then, protest me
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!
Unreal mockery, hence!

$ 62. Exercises in High Pitch. (See $ 43.) - 1. Fight, gentlemen of England ! fight, bold yeomen!

Draw, archers, draw ... your arrows to the head :
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood";
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves !

- A thousand hearts are great within my bosom:
Advance our standards, set upon our foes ;
Our ancient word of courage, fair St. George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons !
Upon them! Victory ... sits on our helms ! xx

2. A horse! a horse! my KINGDOM for a horse !

Slave! I have set my life upon a cast,
And I will stand the hazard of the die.
I think there be six ...

Richmonds in the field !
Five have I slain to-day instead of him.

A horse! a horse! my KINGDOM for a horse ! 3. Coriolanus. Hear'st thou, Mars ?

Aufidius. Name not the god, thou boy of tears!
Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my

heart
Too ... great for what contains it. Boy! O, slave!
(Pardon me, lords, 't is the first time that ever
I was forced to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,
Must give this ... cur the lie !)

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Cut me to pieces, Volces ; men and lads,
Stain all your edges on me. Boy?” False hound !
If

you have writ your annals true, 't is there,
That like an eagle in a dovecote, I
Fluttered your Volces in Co-ri'o-li :
ALONE ... I did it. “ Boy!”

4. Not speak of Mortimer!

Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul
Want mercy, if I do not join with him.
Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins,
And shed my dear blood, drop by drop, in the dust,
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer
As high in the air as this unthankful king;
As this ingrate and cankered Bolingbroke.
Those prisoners I shall keep. -- I WILL ; that's flat.
He said he would not ransom Mortimer;
Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer; -
But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his ear I'll HÓLLA Mortimer!
Nay, I 'll have a starling, shall be taught to speak
Nothing but — MORTIMER, S. and give it him,

To keep his anger still in motion.
5. Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight

With a new Gorgon : Do not bid me speak;
See and then speak yourselves. - Awake! awake! -
Ring the alarum-bell: - Murder! and treason !
Banquo, and Donalbain! Malcolm ! awake!
Shake off this drowsy sleep, death's counterfeit,
And look on death itself!

up, up, and see
The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo!
As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprights,
To countenance this horror!

6. Now what wait we?

For Alfred's word to move upon the foe?
Upon him then! Now think ye on the things
You most do love! Husbands and fathers, on
Their wives and children; lovers, on their beloved ;
And all, upon their COUNTRY! When you use

Your
weapons,

think on the beseeching eyes,
To whet them, could have lent you tears for water!
O, now be men, or never! From

your

hearths
Thrust the unbidden feet, that from their nooks
Drove forth your aged sires,

- your wives and babes!
The land that bore you, — O,
Do honor to her! Let her glory in
Your breeding! Rescue her! Revenge her, - or
Ne'er call her mother more!

7. Rouse ye, Romans! Rouse ye, ... slaves ! Have

ye

brave sons ? Look in the next fierce brawl
To see them die! Have ye fair daughterz? — Look
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained,
Dishonored ; and, if ye

dare call for justice,
Be answered by the lash! - Yet this is Rome,
That sate on her seven hills, and from her throne
Of beauty ruled the world ! Yet, we are Romans !
Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman
Was greater than a king ! And once again
(Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread
Of either Brutus !) - once again I swear,

The Eternal City shall be free! 8. I have been, I am, I shall be, even to the tomb, the man of the public liberty, the man of the constitution. If to be such be to become the man of the people rather than of the nobles, then woe to the privileged orders ! For privileges shall have an end, but ... the people ... are eternal !

9. Strike till the last armed foe expires !
Strike for

your altars and your fires !
Strike
for the green graves

of
your

sires! God, and your native land! 10. Now, by your children's cradles, — now, hy your fathers’ graves,

Be men to-day, Quir-i'tēs, or be forever slaves !
For this did Servius give us laws ? For this did Lucrece bleed ?
For this was the great rengeance wrought on Tarquin's evil seed ?
For this did those false sons make reil ihe axes of their sire ?
For this did Scævlo-la's right hand hiss in the Tuscan fire?
Shall the vile carth-fox awe the race that stormed the lion's den ?
Shall we, who could not brook one lord, crouch to the wicked Ten ?

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