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He was from thence discharged? Sir, call to mind
It would be unjust to the memory of this excellent queen, were we to omit the following passage which so admirably shows that her love and duty to her royal husband continued until death. The queen is speak, ing to Capucius, Ambassador from the Emperor, Charles V.
'O Capucius, remember me In all humility unto his highness : Say, his long trouble now is passing Out of this world; tell him, in death I bless'd him, For so I will.—Mine eyes grow dim.-Farewell, My lord.—Griffith, farewell.–Nay, Patience, You must not leave me yet. I must to bed; Call in more women.- When I am dead, good wench, Let me be used with honour: strew me over With maiden flowers, that all the world may know I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me, Then lay me forth; although unqueen'd, yet like,
A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
PORTIA’S MODEST SPEECH TO BASSANIO.
FROM "THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.' You see me, lord Bassanio, where I stand, Such as I am: though, for myself alone, I would not be ambitious in my wish, To wish myself much better; yet, for you, I would be trebled twenty times myself; A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times More rich: That only to stand high in your account, I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, Exceed account; but the full sum of me Is sum of nothing; which, to term in gross, Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd. Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn; and happier than this, She is not bred so dull but she can learn; Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed, As from her lord, her governor, her king. Myself, and what is mine, to you and yours Is now converted: but now I was the lord Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, This house, these servants, and this same myself,
Are yours, my lord; I give them with this ring;
The play of Julius Cæsar furnishes us with another Portia, the noble, sympathetic wife of Brutus, who, in those terrible days of civil commotion, suspecting from the conduct of her husband, that business connected with the state, presents a fearful aspect, firmly, yet gently, appeals to him for an explanation.
PORTIA’S CONFERENCE WITH BRUTUS.
You have ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed; and yesternight, at supper, You suddenly arose, and walk'd about, Musing, and sighing, with your arms across : And when I ask'd you what the matter was, You stared upon me with ungentle looks : I urged you further; then you scratch'd your head, And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot; Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not; But, with an angry wafture of your hand, Gave sign for me to leave you: so I did; Fearing to strengthen that impatience, Which seem'd too much enkindled; and, withal, Hoping it was but an effect of humour, Which sometime bath his hour with every man, It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep;
And, could it work so much upon your shape, '
He would embrace the means to come by it.
To walk unbraced, and suck up the humours
Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia.
Bru. You are my true and honourable wife;
As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart.
The amiable and accomplished Portia of the Merchant of Venice, however, should not too suddenly be