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II. Rising Inflections.

1. And do you now put on your best attíre?
And do you now cull out a holiday?

And do you now strew flówers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blúod?

2. Must I búdge? Must I observe you? Must
I stand and crouch under your testy húmor?


Wouldst thou have that
Which thou esteem'st the órnament of life,
And live a coward in thine own esteem,
Letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would,”
Like the poor cat i' the ádage?

4. Ashamed to tóil, art thou? Ashamed of thy dingy wórkshop and dusty lábor-field; of thy hard hánd, scarred with service more honorable than that of wár; of thy soiled and weatherstained garments, on which mother Nature has embroidered, 'mid sun and rain, 'mid fire and steam, her own heraldic hónors? Ashamed of these tokens and titles, and envious of the flaunting robes of imbecile idleness and vanity?

III. Rising and Falling Inflections.

1. Can honor set a lég? Nò. Or an árm? Nò. Or take away the grief of a wound? Nò. Honor hath no skill in súrgery, then? Nò. What is honor? A wòrd. What is that word, honor? Aìr. Who hàth it? He that died on Wednesday. Doth he féel it? No. Doth he heàr it? No. Is it insénsible, then? Yès, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? Nò. Why? Detrac tion will not suffer it.

2. What would content you? Tálent? No! Énterprise? No! Cóurage? No! Reputation? No! Virtue? No! The men whom you would select should possess, not one, but all of these.

3. What is time?-the shadow on the díal,-the striking of the clock, the running of the sánd,-day and night,-summer and

winter,―mónths, yéars, cénturies? These are but arbitrary and outward signs,—the measure of time, nòt time itself. Time is the life of the soul. If not this, then tell me what is time?


I come not here to tálk. Ye know too well
The story of our thràlldom. We are slàves!
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights
A race of slaves! He sets, and his last beam
Falls on a slave."

5. Prince Henry. What's the matter?

Falstaff. What's the matter? Here be four of us have taken a thousand pounds this morning.

Prince Henry. Where is it, Jack, where is it?

Falstaff. Where is it? Taken fròm us, it is.

6. They tell us, sir, that we are wèak,-unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and ináction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemy shall have bound us hand and foot?-Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power.

IV. Minor Rising Inflections.

1. Give me three grains of córn, mother,
Only three grains of corn.

2. Oh! párdon me, thou bleeding piece of éarth,
That I am meek and géntle with these-bútchers.


O my lord,

Must I then léave you? must I needs forego
So good, so nóble, and so trúe a master?

V. Minor Falling Inflections.

1. O, sàve me, Hubert, sàve me! My eyes are out
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.

2. O! I have lost you all!

Parents and home and friends.

3. The shepherd saunters last:-but why
Comes with him, pace for pace,
That èwe? and why, so piteously,
Looks up the creature's fàce?

VI. Circumflex Inflections.
1. None dared withstand him to his face,
But one sly maiden spake aside:
"The little witch is èvil-eyed!
Her mother only killed a côw,

Or witched a chûrn or dâiry-pan;

But she, forsooth, must charm a mân!"

2. What should I say to you? Should I not say,
Hath a dog money? is it possible,

A cur can lend three thousand ducats?

3. Do not tell me of laws; I am a savage! I value nò laws. Talk of laws to the Englishman; there are laws in his country, and yet you see he did not regard them, for they could never allow him to kill his fellow-subject in time of peace, because he asked him to pay a debt. The English cannot be so brûtal as to make.such things lawful.


4. Now, in building of chaises, I tell you what,
There is always somewhere a weakest spot;
And that's the reason, beyond a doubt,

A chaise breaks down, but does n't wear ôut.

He, I warrant him,
Believed in no other gods than those of the creed;
Bowed to no îdols-but his money-bags;

Swore no false ôaths-except at the custom-house.

VII. Monotone.

1. Hōly! hōly! hōly! Lord God of Sabaoth!

2. The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great glōbe itsèlf,—
Yea, all which it inhèrit, shall dissolve,

And, like this unsubstantial pageant, faded,—
Leave not a rack behind.

3. There was silence, and I heard a voice saying,
"Shall mōrtal mān be`mōre jūst than Gōd?
Shall a man be mōre pūre than his Māker?”


4. Come to thy God in time,"

Thus saith the ocean chime;

"Stōrm, whirlwind, billows past,
Come to thy Gōd at last."




DURE TONE is used in unimpassioned discourse; in the expression of light and agreeable emotions; and in sadness or grief.

Orotund is used to express whatever is grand, vast, or sublime. Aspirated quality expresses secrecy, fear, darkness, or moral impurity.

The Whisper has expressive power similar to that of the aspirated tone. It is seldom employed in reading or speaking, but it may be practiced a few moments at a time, as a discipline of the ɔrgans of speech.

I. Whispering.

1. All heaven and earth are still,-though not in sleep,

But breathless, as we grow when feeling most;

And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep.

2. I see the head of the enemy's column rising over the height. Our only safety is in the screen of this hèdge. Keep close tò it; be silent; and stoop as you rùn. For the boats! Forward!

3. All silent they went, for the time was approaching,
The moon the blue zenith already was touching;
No foot was abroad on the forest or hill,

No sound but the lullaby sung by the rìll.

II. Half-whisper, or Aspirated Tone.

1. Only the old camp-raven croaks,

And soldiers whisper: "Boys, be still!

There's some bad news from Gràinger's folks."

2. Hist! I see the stir of glàmour far upon the twilight wold. Hìst! I see the vision rìsing! List! and as I speak, behòld!

3. And once behind a rick of barley,
Thus looking out did Harry stand;

The moon was full and shining clearly,
And crisp with frost the stubble lànd.
-He hears a nòise-he's all awake-
Again!-on tiptoe down the hill
He softly creeps.

4. Macbeth. Didst thou not hear a nóise?

Lady Macbeth. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry.

Did not you speak?

Macb. When?

Lady M. Now.

Mach. As I descénded?

Lady M. Ay.

Macb. Hark!

Who lies i' the second chamber?

Lady M. Donalbain.

Enter Lady Macbeth, with a Taper.

5. Gentlewoman. Lo you, here she còmes! This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Obsèrve her; stand clòse. Physician. How came she by that lìght?

Gent. Why it stood by her; she has light by her continually; 'tis her command.

Phy. You see her eyes are òpen?

Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut.

Phy. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands; I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hòur.

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