Imatges de pÓgina

And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert;
Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes,
And, like a dog that is compelled to fight,
Snatch at his master that does tarre him on.
All things that you should use to do me wrong
Deny their office; only you do lack
That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron, extends,
Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses.

Hub. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eyes,
For all the treasure that thine uncle owns !
Yet I am sworn, and I did purpose, boy,
With this same very iron to burn them out.

Arth. O, now you look like Hubert ! all this while You were disguised.

Hub. Peace: no more: adieu !
Your uncle must not know but you are dead :
I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports.
And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure
That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world,
Will not offend thee.

Arth. O Heaven! I thank you, Hubert.

Hub. Silence; no more. Go closely in with me: Much danger do I undergo for thee

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RULE V. Whenever a sentence requires the tones of mockery,

sarcasm, or irony, the circumflex or wave should be used.


Queen. Hamlet, you

father much offended. Hamlet. Madam, yoû have my father much offended.

have your

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Gesler. Why speak’st thou not?
Tell. For wonder.
Ges. Wonder ?

Tell. Yes;
That thou shouldst seem a man.

Ges. What should I seem?
Tell. A monster!
Ges. Ha! Beware! Think on thy chains.
Tell. Though they were doubled, and did weigh me

Prostrate to earth, methinks I could rise up
Erect, with nothing but the honest pride
Of telling thee, usurper, to thy teeth,
Thou art a monster! Think upon my chains !
Show me the link of them, which, could it speak,
Would give its evidence against my word.
Think on my chains! Think on my chains !
How came they on me?

Ges. Darest thou question me?
Tell. Darest thou not answer ?
Ges. Do I hear ?
Tell. Thou dost.
Ges. Beware my vengeance.
Tell. Can it more than kill?
Ges. Enough it can do that.

Tell. No- not enough:
It cannot take away the grace of life,
Its comeliness of look that virtue gives,
Its port erect with consciousness of truth,
Its rich attire of honorable deeds,
Its fair report, that's rife on good men's tongues,
It cannot lay its hands on these, no more
Than it can pluck his brightness from the sun,
Or, with polluted finger, tarnish it.

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Ges. But it can make thee writhe.
Tell. It may.
Ges. And groan.

Tell. It may; and I may cry,
Go on, though it should make me groan again.

Ges. Whence comest thou ?

Tell. From the mountains. Wouldst thou learn What news from them?

Ges. Canst tell me any ?

Tell. Ay:
They watch no more the avalanche.

Ges. Why so ?

Tell. Because they look for thee. The hurricane Comes unawares upon them; from its bed The torrent breaks, and finds them in its track.

Ges. What do they then ?

Tell. Thank Heaven it is not thou ! Thou hast perverted nature in them. The earth Presents her fruits to them, and is not thanked. The harvest sun is constant, and they scarce Return his smile; their flocks and herds increase, And they look on as men who count a loss ; They hear of thriving children born to them, And never shake the teller by the hand; While those they have, they see grow up and flourish, And think as little of caressing them, As they were things a deadly plague had smit. There's not a blessing Heaven vouchsafes them, but The thought of thee doth wither to a curse, As something they must lose, and richer were To lack.

Ges. That's right! I'd have the like their hills,
That never smile, though wanton summer tempt
Them e'er so much.

Tell. But they do sometimes smile.
Ges. Ay? When is that?

Tell. When they do alk of vengeance.

Ges. Vengeance? Dare
They talk of that?

Tell. Ay, and expect it, too.
Ges. From whence ?
Tell. From Heaven!
Ges. From Heaven?

Tell. And the true hands
Are lifted up to it, on every hill,
For justice on thee.



Rule VI. In solemn and sublime passages, the 'monotone

should be used, to give force and dignity to the expression.


High on a throne of royal stāte, which fār
Outshöne the wēalth of Ormus or of Inde,
Or whēre the gorgeous Eāst, with richest hand,
Showers on her kīngs barbāric pearl and gold,
Satan exalted sat.

On the Value of Time to Man.


Night, sable goddess, from her ebon throne,
In rayless majesty, now stretches forth
Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world.
Silence, how dead! and darkness, how profound !
Nor eye, nor listening ear, an object finds;
Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse
Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause,
An awful pause, prophetic of her end.

The bell strikes one. We take no note of time But from its loss. To give it then a tongue, Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of my departed hours. Where are they? with the years beyond the flood. It is the signal that demands despatch. How much is to be done! My hopes and fears Start up alarmed, and. o'er life's narrow verge Look down - on what ? a fathomless abyss ! A dread eternity! How surely mine! And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour ? How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man! How passing wonder He who made him such' Who centred in our make such strange extremes ! From different natures marvellously mixed, Connection exquisite of distant worlds ! Distinguished link in being's endless chain ! Midway from nothing to the Deity ! A beam ethereal, sullied and absorbed ! Though 'sullied and dishonored, still divine ! Dim miniature of greatness absolute ! An heir of glory! a frail child of dust! Helpless immortal ! insect infinite! A worm, a god! -I tremble at myself, And in myself am lost! at home a stranger ! Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast, And wondering at her own : how reason reels ! 0, what a miracle to man is man, Triumphantly distressed! what joy, what dread ! Alternately transported and alarmed! What can preserve my life, or what destroy? An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave; Legions of angels can't confine me there.

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