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Gò, show your slàves how choleric you are,
And make your bóndmen tremble. Must 'I búdge?
Must 'I observe you? must 'I stand and crouch
Under yoúr testy humour? By the gods,
You shall digest the venom of your spléen,
Though it do split you; for, from this day forth,
I'll use you for my mìrth, yea, for my làughter,
When you are waspish.

Cas. Is it come to this?

Bru. You say, you are a bètter soldier:
Let it appear so; make your vaunting trúe,
And it shall please me well. For mine ówn part,
I shall be glad to learn of abler mèn.

Cas. You wróng me èvery way; you wròng me, Brutus;
I said an elder soldier, not a hétter.
Did I say bétter?

Bru. If you did, I càre not.
Cas. When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus have moved me.
Bru. Pèace, peace; you durst not so have tèmpted him.
Cas. I'durst not?
Bru. Nò.
Cas. Whát? durst not tempt hím?
Bru. For


durst not.
Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love;
I mày do thát I shall be sorry for.
Bru. You hàve done that

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threáts;
For I am armed so strong in honesty,
That they pass bý mel as the idle wind,
Which I respect not. I did send to you
For certain sums of gold, which you
For I can raise no money by vìle means:
By heaven, I had rather coin my heàrt,
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash
By any indirection! I did send
To you for gold to pay my légions,
Which you

should be


denied me. Was that done like Cassius?

denied me;

Should 'I have answered Caius Cássius so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such ràscal counters from his friends,
Be reàdy, gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dàsh him to pieces!

Cas. 'I deníed you nòt.
Bru. You did.

Cas. I did not: he was but a fool
That brought my answer back.—Brutus hath rived my heart:
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,
But Brùtus makes míne greater than they are.

Bru. I do not, till you practise them on mè.
Cas. You lòve me not.
Bru. I do not like


fáults. Cas. A friendly eye could never sèe such faults.

Bru. A fàtterer's would not, though they did appear As húge as high Olŷmpus.

Cas. Come, A'ntony, and young Octàvius, come;
Revenge yourselves alone on Cássius,
For Cássius' is a-weary of the world:
Háted by one he loves; bráved by his brother;
Chécked like a bòndman; all his fáults observed,
Set in a nòte-book, leàrned, and conned by róte,
To cast into my tèeth, Oh, I could wéep
My spírit from mine eģes!—Thère is my dágger,
And here my naked breast! withín, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' míne, richer than gold:
If that thou béest a Roman, take it forth;
'I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:
Strike, as thou didst at Cæsar; for I know,
When thou didst hate hìm wórst, thou lovèdst him bétter
Than ever thou lovedst Càssius.

Bru. Sheathe your dagger:
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Dó what you will, dishonour shall be hùmour.
O Càssius, you are yòked with a lámb
That carries ánger as the flint bears fìre;
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spárk,


And straight is cold again.

Cas. Hath Cassius lived
To be but mirth and làughter to his Brutus,
When grief, and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him?

Bru. When I spoke that, I' was ill-tempered too.
Cas. Do you confess so much? give me your hànd.
Bru. And my heart too.

[Embracing. Cas. O Brútus! Bru. What's the matter?

Cas. Have you not lòve enough to beár with me, When that rash humour which my mother gave me Makes me forgétful?

Bru. Yès, Cassius; and, from henceforth, When you are over-earnest with your Brútus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.



[RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN, distinguished as a statesman, wit, and dramatist, was born at Dublin in 1751, and died in 1816. He was returned to Parliament as member for the borough of Stafford, and attained distinguished celebrity as an orator. He made the grandest display of his eloquence during the impeachment of Warren Hastings. His writings are chiefly dramatic.]

Had a stranger, at this time, gone into the province of Oude, ignorant of what had happened! since the death of Sujah Dowla, that man, who, with a savage heart, had still great lines of character, and who, with all his ferocity in war, had still, with a cultivating hand, preserved to his country the riches which it derived from benignant skies and a prolific soil—if this stranger, ignorant of all that had happened in the short interval, and observing the wide and general devastation, and all the horrors of the scene- of plains' unclothed and brown-of vegetables! burnt up and extinguished- of villages depopulated and in ruin-of temples' unroofed and perishing--of reservoirs broken down and dry-he would naturally inquire, what warl has thus laid waste the fertile fields of this once beautiful' and 340 SHERIDAN'S INVECTIVE AGAINST WARREN HASTINGS.

opulent country—what civil dissensions! have happened, thus to tear asunderl and separate the happy societies' that once possessed those villages—what disputed succession, what religious rage, has, with unholy violence, demolished those temples, and disturbed fervent but unobtruding piety, in the exercise of its duties?

What merciless enemy' has thus spread the horrors of fire and sword-what severe visitation of Providencel has dried

up the fountain, and taken from the face of the earth! every vestige of verdure ? Or, rather, what monsters have stalked over the country, tainting and poisoning, with restiferous breath, what the voracious appetite could not devour? To such questions, what must be the answer ? No wars' have ravaged these landsl and depopulated these villages, no civil discords! have been felt-no disputed succession-no religious rage—no merciless enemy-no afiliction of Providence, which, while it scourged for the moment, cut off the sources of resuscitation-no voracious and poisoning monsters—no, all this' has been accomplished by the friendship, generosity, and kindness of the English nation. They have embraced us with their protecting arms, and, lo! those are the fruits of their alliance. What, then, shall we be told that, under such circumstances, the exasperated feelings of a whole people, thus goaded and spurred on to clamour and resistance, were excited by the poor and feeble influence of the Begums!

When we hear the description of the paroxysm, fever, and delirium, into which despair! had thrown the natives, when on the banks of the polluted Ganges, panting for death, they tore more widely open the lips of their gaping wounds, to accelerate their dissolution; and, while their blood was issuing, presented their ghastly eyes to heaven, breathing their last and fervent prayer, that the dry earth' might not be suffered to drink their blood, but' that it might rise

up to the throne of God, and rouse the eternal Proridencel to avenge the

wrongs of their country, - will it be said that this was brought about by the incantations of these Begums! in their secluded Zenana? or that they

could inspire this enthusiasm and this despair into the breasts of a people who felt no grievance, and had suffered no torture? What motive, then, could have such influence in their bosom? What motive? That' which Nature, the common parent, plants in the bosom of man, and which, though it

may be less active in the Indian' than in the Englishman, is still congenial with, and makes part of his beingthat feeling' which tells him, that man was never made to be the property of man; but that when, through pride and insolence of power, one human creaturel dares to tyrannize over another, it is a power usurped, and resistance is a duty—that feeling' which tells him! that all power' is delegated for the good, notl for the injury of the people, and that when it is converted from the original purpose, the compact! is broken, and the right' is to be resumedthat principle' which tells him, that resistance to power usurped' is not merely a duty' which he owes to himself and to his neighbour, but a duty' which he owes to his God, in asserting and maintaining the rank' which he gave him in the creation, to that common God, who, where he gives the form of man, whatever may be the complexion, gives also the feelings and the rights of man—that principle, which neither the rudeness of ignorance can stifle, nor the enervation of refinement' cxtinguish—that principle, which makes it base for a man' to sufferl when he ought to act, which, tending to preserve to the species the original designations of Providence, spurns at the arrogant distinctions of man, and vindicates the independent qualities of his race.



The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!

Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peacc-

Where Delos rose, and Phoebus spruvg!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set

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