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Eternity!-thou pleasing-dreadful thought!
Through what variety of untry'd being,
Through what new scenes and changes must we pass!
The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me-
But fhadows, clouds, and darkness, reft upon it.-
Here will I hold. If there's a pow'r above us,
(And that there is, all nature cries aloud
Through all her works) he muft delight in virtue;
And that which he delights in, must be happy.
But, when? or where? This world-was made for Cæfar.
I'm weary of conjectures-this muft end them.
Thus I am doubly arm'd. My death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before me.
This in a moment, brings me to an end :
But this informs me, I shall never die.
The foul, fecur'd in her existence-fmiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The ftars fhall fade away, the fun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature fing in years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amidst the war of elements,
The wrecks of nature, and the crush of worlds.
ANTONY'S SPEECH ON CASAR'S MURDER.
Pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth!
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers.
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man,
That ever lived in the tide of times.
Woe to the hand, that fhed this coftly blood!
Over thy wounds, now, do I prophefy
(Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue)
A curfe fhall light upon the line of men.
Domeftic fury, and fierce civil ftrife,
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy.
Blood and deftruction fhall be fo in ufe,
And dreadful objects fo familiar,
That mothers fhall but fmile, when they behold
Their infants quarter'd by the hands of war:
All pity choaked with custom of fell deeds.
And Cæfar's fpirit, ranging for revenge,
With Até by his fide, come hot from hell,
Shall, in those confines, with a monarch's voice,
Cry havock-and let flip the dogs of war.
DESCRIPTION OF A GAME AT OMBRE,
ELINDA, now, whom thirft of fame invites,
Burns to encounter two advent'rous knights;
At ombre, fingly, to decide their doom ;
And fwells her breaft with conquefts yet to come.
Behold four kings, in Majefty rever'd,
With hoary whiskers, and a forky beard;
And four fair queens, whofe hands fuftain a flow'r,
Th' expreffive emblem of their fofter pow'r;
Four knaves, in garbs fuccinct, a trufty band,.
Caps on their heads, and halberds in their hand;
And party-colour'd troops, a fhining train;
Draw forth to combat on the velvet plain.
THE kilful nymph reviews her force with care: "Let fpades be trumps!" fhe faid-and trumps they
Now, move to war her fable matadores,
In fhow like leaders of the swarthy Moors,
Spadilio firft, unconquerable lord!
Led off two captive trumps, and swept the board.
As many more Manilio forc'd to yield,
And march'd a victor from the verdant field.
Him Bafto follow'd; but, his fate more hard,
Gain'd but one trump, and one Plebeian card.
With his broad fabre, next a chief in years,
The hoary majefty of fpades appears;
Puts forth one manly leg to fight reveal'd
The reft his many-coloured robe conceal'd.
The rebel knave, who dares his prince engage,
Proves the juft victim of his royal rage;
Ev'n mighty Pam, that kings and queens o'erthrew,
And mow'd down armies fights of Lu,
Sad chance of war! now deftitute of aid,
Falls undiftinguith'd by the victor spade.
THUS far both armies to Belinda yield.
Now, to the baron, fate inclines the field.
His wailike Amazon her host invades,
Th' imperial confort of the crown of spades,
The clubs' black tyrant firft her victim died,
Spite of his haughty niien, and barb'rous pride.
What boots the regal circle on his head;
His giant limbs, in ftate unwieldy spread;
That long behind he trails his pompous robe;
And, of all monarchs, only, grafps the globe!
The baron. now, his diamonds pours apace.
Th' embroider'd king, who fhews but half his face,
And his refulgent queen, with pow'rs combin'd,
Of broken troops, an eafy conqueft find:
Clubs, diamonds, hearts, in wild diforder feen,
With throngs promifcuous, ft:ew the level green.
Thus, when dispers'd, a routed army runs,
Of Afia's troops, and Afric's fable fons,
With like confufion, different nations fly,
Of various habit, and of various die,
The pierc'd batallions, difunited fall
In heaps on heaps; one fate o'erwhelms them all.
The knave of diamonds trys his wily arts;
And wins (oh fhameful chance!) the queen of hearts.
At this, the blood the virgin's cheek forfook;
A livid palenefs fpreads o'er all her look ;
She fees, and trembles at th' approaching ill,
Juft in the jaws of ruin, and codille.
And, now (as oft, in fome diftemper'd ftate,
On one nice trick depends the genʼral fate)
An ace of hearts fteps forth; the king unseen,
Lurk'd in her hand, and mourn'd his captive queen-
He fprings to vengeance, with an eager pace,
And falls, like thunder, on the proftrate ace.
The nymph, exulting, fills with fhouts the sky;
The wall, the woods, and long canals reply.
ANTONY'S FUNERAL ORATION OVER CESAR'S
RIENDS, Romans, Countrymen-lend me your ears,
I come to bury Cæfar; not to praise him.
The evil that men do, lives after them;
The good, is oft interred with their bones:
So let it be with Cæfar!-Noble Brutus
Hath told you, Cæfar was ambitious.
If it were fo, it was a grievous fault-
And grievously hath Cæfar answer'd it.
Here under leave of Brutus, and the reft,
(For Brutus is an honourable man-
So are they all, all honourable men)
Come I to speak in Cæfar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus fays, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ranfoms did the general coffers fill;
Did this, in Cæfar, feem ambitious?
When that the poor have cry'd, Cæfar hath wept :
Ambition fhould be made of sterner stuff.
Yet Brutus fays, he was ambitious
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did fee, that on the Lupercal,
I, thrice, prefented him a kingly crown;
Which he did, thrice, refuse. Was this ambition ?
Yet Brutus fays, he was ambitious;
And, fure, he is an honourable man.
I fpeak not to disprove what Brutus fpoke;
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once-not without caufe:
What cause with-holds you, then, to mourn for him ?--
O judgment thou art fled to brutish beafts,
And men have loft their reafon---bear with me---
My heart is in the coffin there, with Cæfar---
And I must pause---till it come back to me.
Ir you have tears---prepare to shed them, now.
You all do know this mantle.--.I remember