[BEATRICE and BENEDICK.] Beatrice-I wonder that you will still be talking, seignior Benedick; nobody marks you. Benedick-What, my dear lady DISDAIN-are you yet-living? Beat.-Is it possible Disdain^ should die^, while she hath such meet food to feed it as seignior Benedick^ ? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain^, if you come in her presence. Bene. Then is courtesy a turncoat: but it is certain, I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none. Beat.-A dear happiness to women; they would else have been troubled with a PERNICIOUS^ suitor. I thank God, and my cold blood, I am of your humor for that^; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow^, than a man^ swear he loves^ me. Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that^ mind! so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face. Beat.-Scratching could not make it worse^, an 'twere such a face as yours were. Bene.-Well, you are a rare parrot^ teacher. Beat.-A BIRD' of my tongue is better than a BEAST^ of yours. Bene.-I would my HORSE had the speed of your tongue; and so good a continuer^. Beat. You always end with a jade's^ trick; I know you of old". (From "Much Ado about Nothing," Shakespeare.) LXXIII. THE GRAVE. 1. There is a calm for those who weep, A rest for weary pilgrims found; They softly lie, and sweetly sleep, Low in the ground. 2. The storm that wrecks the winter sky No more disturbs their deep repose Than summer evening's latest sigh, That shuts the rose. 3. I long to lay this painful head And aching heart beneath the soil- From all my toil. 4. For misery stole me at my birth, And cast me helpless on the wild. I perish-oh, my mother Earth, Take home thy child! 5. On thy dear lap these limbs reclined, Shall gently molder into thee; Nor leave one wretched trace behind Resembling me. 6. Hark! a strange sound affrights mine ear; My pulse, my brain runs wild! I rave! Ah, who art thou whose voice I hear? "I am the Grave! 7. "The Grave, that never spoke before, Hath found, at last, a tongue to chide: O listen! I will speak no more Be silent, pride! 8. "Art thou a wretch, of hope forlorn, The victim of consuming care? Is thy distracted conscience torn By fell despair? 9. "Do foul misdeeds of former times Wring with remorse thy guilty breast? Murder thy rest? 10. "Lashed by the furies of the mind, From wrath and vengeance wouldst thou flee? Ah! think not, hope not, fool, to find A friend in me! 11. "I charge thee, live-repent and pray! And sin no more. 12. "Whate'er thy lot, whoe'er thou be, Confess thy folly-kiss the rod, And in thy chastening sorrows see The hand of God. 13. "A bruiséd reed He will not break: 14. "Humbled beneath His mighty hand, Prostrate His providence adore. 'Tis done!-Arise! He bids thee stand, 15. "Now, traveler in the vale of tears, Through Time's dark wilderness of years 16. "There is a calm for those who weep, Low in the ground, 17. "The soul, of origin divine, God's glorious image, freed from clay, 18. "The sun is but a spark of fire, Shall never die." James Montgomery. FOR PREPARATION.-I. Nearly one half of the verses of the poem are omitted here. Compare this poem with "How sleep the Brave!" (XII.), of Collins, and "Virtue " (VII.), of Herbert. II. Wrecks (rēks), chas'-ten-ing (chas'n-ing), trăv'-el-er, trăn'-sient (-shent), bruişed (bruzd), pur-sūe', ŏr'-i-ğın. III. Meaning of un and en in unforgiven ?—of d in freed? IV. Remorse, "furies of the mind," meteor. V. Explain the expression, “storm that wrecks the winter sky" (that strews the sky with broken clouds-cloud wracks; as if he had said wracked-covered with wracks-the sky). (In the first six verses the heartsick mourner expresses his weak pining for rest, and is checked by the apparition of the Grave itself, who speaks in the last verses.) Who is referred to as "its sire" (18)? What contrast in the last stanza? 1. I very much regret that it should have been thought necessary to suggest to you that I am brought here to “hurry you against the law, and beyond the evidence.” I hope I have too much regard for justice, and too much respect for my own character, to attempt either; and were I to make such an attempt, I am sure that, in this court, nothing can be carried against the law, and that gentlemen, intelligent and just as you are, are not, by any power, to be hurried beyond the evidence. 2. Though I could well have wished to shun this occasion, I have not felt at liberty to withhold my professional assistance when it is supposed that I might be in some degree useful in investigating and discovering the truth respecting this most extraordinary murder. It has seemed to be a duty incumbent on me, as on every other citizen, to do my best and my utmost to bring to light the perpetrators of this crime. 3. Against the prisoner at the bar, as an individual, I can not have the slightest prejudice. I would not do him the smallest injury or injustice. But I do not affect to be indifferent to the discovery and the punishment of this deep guilt. I cheerfully share in the opprobrium, how much soever it may be, which is cast on those who feel and manifest an anxious concern that all who had a part in planning, or a hand in executing, this deed of midnight assassination, may be brought to answer for their enormous crime at the bar of public justice. 4. Gentlemen, it is a most extraordinary case. In some respects, it has hardly a precedent anywhere; certainly none in our New England history. This bloody |