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not the slightest feeling of resentment toward them. Influenced, as they must have been, by the charge of the Lord Chief-Justice, they could have found no other verdict. What of that charge? Any strong observations on it, I feel sincerely, would ill befit the solemnity of this scene; but I would earnestly beseech of you, my lord,
-you who preside on that bench,-when the passions and prejudices of this hour have passed away, to appeal to your own conscience, and to ask of it, was your charge, as it ought to have been, impartial and indifferent between the subject and the Crown.
2. My lords, you may deem this language unbecoming in me, and perhaps it may seal my fate. But I am here to speak the truth, whatever it may cost; I am here to regret nothing I have ever done; to retract nothing I have ever said. I am here to crave with no lying lip the life I consecrate to the liberty of my country. Far from it, even here, --here, where the thief, the libertine, the murderer, have left their foot-prints in the dust; here, on this spot, where the shadows of death surround me, and from which I see my early grave in an unanointed soil opened to receive me,-even here, encircled by these terrors, the hope which has beckoned me to the perilous sea upon which I have been wrecked still consoles, animates, enraptures me.
3. No! I do not despair of my poor old country, her peace, her liberty, her glory. For that country I can do no more than bid her hope. To lift this island up,—to make her a benefactor to humanity instead of being the meanest beggar in the world, to restore to her her native powers and her ancient constitution, —this has been my ambition, and this ambition has been my crime. Judged by the law of England, I know this crime entails the penalty of death; but the history of Ireland explains this crime, and justifies it. Judged by that history, I am no criminal; I deserve no punishment. Judged by that history, the treason of which I stand convicted loses all its guilt, is sanctioned as a duty, will be ennobled as a sacrifice. With these sentiments, my lord, I await the sentence of the court.
4. Having done what I felt to be my duty, having spoken what I felt to be the truth, as I have done on every other occasion of my short career, I now bid farewell to the country of my birth, my passion, and my death; the country whose misfortunes have invoked my sympathies; whose factions I have sought to still; whose intellect I have prompted to a lofty aim; whose freedom has been my fatal dream. I offer to that country, as a proof of the love I bear her, and the sincerity with which I thought, and spoke, and struggled for her freedom, the life of a
young heart; and with that life all the hopes, the honors, the endearments, of a happy and an honored home.
5. Pronounce, then, my lords, the sentence which the laws direct, and I will be prepared to hear it. I trust I shall be prepared to meet its execution. I hope to be able, with a pure heart and perfect composure, to appear before a higher tribunal, -a tribunal where a Judge of infinite goodness as well as of justice will preside; and where, my lords, many, many of the judgments of this world will be reversed.
ANTONY'S SPEECH TO THE PEOPLE ON THE DEATH OF CÆSAR.
1. FRIENDS, Romans, countrymen ! lend me your ears.
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.
But Brutus says he was ambitious;
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honorable men.
But here I am to speak what I do know.
And none so poor to do him reverence! 4. O masters, if I were disposed to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
all know, are honorable men.
Unto their issue !
You all do know this mantle : I remember
6. This was the most unkindest cut of all!
For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
To such a sudden flood of mutiny.
That gave me public leave to speak of him. 8. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
Prince Henry and Poins. A room in a tavern. Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, and PETO. Poins. WELCOME, Jack. Where hast thou been ?
Falstaff. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! Marry, and amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew netherstocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards! Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant ?
(He drinks.) P. Henry. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? -pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale of the sun? If thou didst, then behold that compound.
Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: there's nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man; yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it; a villainous coward. Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, “then am I a shotten herring. There live not three good meu unhanged in England; and one of them is fat, and grows old. A bad world, I say! I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms, or any thing. _A plague of all cowards, I say still!
P. Henry. How now, wool-sack? What mutter you?
Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You prince of Wales !
P. Henry. Why, what's the matter?
Fal. Are you not a coward ? Answer me to that; and Poins there?
Poins. Ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, I'll stab thee.
Fal. I call thee coward ? I'll see thee hanged ere I call thee coward; but I would give a thousand pounds, I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders ; you care not who sees your back : call you that backing of your friends ? A plague upon such backing! Give me them that will face me.
Give me a cup of sack ;-I am a rogue if I drunk to-day