But you must know, your father lost a father; To do obsequious sorrow: but to perséver Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief: [1849. JULIUS CAESAR. ACT 1. Sc. 1. Mar. WHEREFORE rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? 30 ὀρθῶς προσάπτεις· ἀλλὰ δεῖ σκοπεῖν τόδε· κεἰς τοὺς θανόντας καὶ φύσιν βροτῶν ὁμοῦ, 1849.] ΜΑΡ. Τι χάρμα; ποῖον νόστιμον φέρει κράτος ; πομπὴν τίν ̓ αἰχμαλωτίδ ̓ εἰς Ρώμην ἄγει, ὀχήματος τροχοῖσι δεσμίαν χάριν ; 1 Cf. Soph. Elect. 355 : ὥστε τῷ τεθνηκότι | τιμὰς προσάπτειν, κ. τ. λ. You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, And do you now put on your best attire? Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude. Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, Assemble all the poor men of your sort; Draw them to Tyber banks, and weep your tears Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. 10 ὦ ξύλα, πέτροι τε, κεἴ τι τῶνδ ̓ ἀνουστερον, ὦ δεινὰ Ρώμης θρέμματ ̓, ὦ σκληραὶ φρένες, Πομπεῖον οὐκ ἐγνώκαθ ̓; οἵ γε πολλὰ δὴ τοίχων ἐπεμβαίνοντες, ἠδ ̓ ἐπαλξέων, πύργων τε θυρίδων τ', ἀλλὰ κἀετῶν ἔπι, αὐτοῖσι νηπίοισιν, ὧδε τλημόνως πανήμεροι κάθησθ ̓ ἄν, εἰ Ρώμης ὁδοὺς τὸν κλεινὸν ἄνδρα διαπερῶντ ̓ ἴδοιτέ πως ὁπότε δ' ἐς ὄψιν καὶ πρόσω δίφρος μόλοι, ξύμπαντες ἐν τῷδ ̓ οὐχὶ πάγκοινον βοὴν ἐπωρθιάζεθ', ὥσθ' ὑπ ̓ ὄχθαισιν τρόμῳ πτῆξαι Θύβριν κλύουσαν, ἐν κοίλαις ὅσος ἀκταῖσιν ὑμῖν ἀντεφώνησεν κτύπος; εἶτ ̓ ἐνδυτοὶ τανῦν γε κάλλεσιν πέπλων, τόδ ̓ ὡς ἑορτὴν ἦμαρ ἐξαιρεῖσθ ̓ ἄγειν; καὶ τῷδε νῦν ἐστρώσατ ̓ ἄνθεσιν στίβον τῷ γ ̓ ἐν σφαγαῖς χλίοντι Πομπείου περᾶν; ἀλλ ̓ ἐκποδὼν ἀπέλθετ ̓ εἰς οἴκους δρόμῳ, 21 καὶ προσπίτνοντες γονυπετεῖς ἕδρας θεοὺς λιταῖς σεβίζετ', ἣν ἀπείρξωσιν νόσον τὴν ἐμπεσεῖν μέλλουσαν ὧδ ̓ ἀγνώμοσιν. ΦΛΑ. Ὦ ξυμπολῖται, τῆσδ ̓ ἁμαρτίας ὕπερ οὐκ εἶ ̓ ἀθροίσεθ ̓ ὅστις ὡς ὑμεῖς ἀνὴρ πένης κέκληται, καὶ προσελθόντες πέλας Θύβριδος παρ' ὄχθας τέγξετ ̓ εἰς κρουνὸν λίβη ξύμμικτα δακρύων, ἔς τ ̓ ἂν αἱ κάτω ῥοαὶ θόρωσ ̓ ἐπ ̓ ἀκτὰς τὰς μάλισθ' ὑπερτάτας; 30 MERCHANT OF VENICE ACT 5. Sc. 1. LORENZO. JESSICA. Lor. How sweet the moon-light sleeps upon this bank! Here will we set, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night, Sit, Jessica look how the floor of heaven : Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims: Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.— Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, |