2. And this man Is now become a god; and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend his body, And, when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake: And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, "Julius Cæsar." 3. None dared withstand him to his face, But one sly maiden spake aside: Her mother only killed a cow, Or witched a churn or dairy-pan; SHAKESPEARE. But she, forsooth, must charm a man!" 4. It is vastly easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as everybody knows, set yourself up above me,-it is vastly easy for you, I say, to accuse other people of laziness. 5. But were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony SHAKESPEARE. 6. Do you think to frighten me? you! Do you think to turn me from any purpose that I have, or any course I am resolved upon, by reminding me of the solitude of this place and there being no help near? Me, who am here alone designedly? If I had feared you, should I not have avoided you? If I feared you, should I be here in the dead of night, telling you to your face what I am going to tell? But I tell you nothing until you go back to that chair-except this once again. Do not dare to come near me not a step nearer. I have something lying here that is no love trinket; and sooner than endure your touch once more, I would use it on you-and you know it while I speak-with less reluctance than I would on any other creeping thing that lives. MONOTONE 1. Holy! holy! holy! Lord God of Sabaoth! Calm or convulsed,-in breeze, or gale, or storm,- Dark heaving;-boundless, endless, and sublime,- 3. Methought I heard a voice cry-"Sleep no more, Still it cried "Sleep no more!" to all the house: "Glamis hath murdered Sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more!-Macbeth shall sleep no more!" "Macbeth." SHAKESPEARE. 4. King John. If the midnight bell Had baked thy blood, and made it heavy, thick, And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, Or if that thou could'st see me without eyes, SHAKESPEARE. FORCE Force has reference to the degree of strength of the voice. It should be carefully distinguished from Pitch. For practising purposes it is divided into Gentle, Moderate, Loud and Very Loud Force. GENTLE 1. O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, "Bugle Song." TENNYSON. 2. Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust. As for man, his days are as grass; as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth: for the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. 3. O sweet and strange it seems to me, that ere this day is done, The voice that now is speaking, may be beyond the sun. Forever and forever,-all in a blessed home, And there to wait a little while, till you and Effie come. TENNYSON. MODERATE 1. Now, a living force that brings to itself all the resources of imagination, all the inspirations of feeling, all that is influential in body, in voice, in eye, in gesture, in posture, in the whole animated man, is in strict analogy with the divine thought and the divine arrangement; and there is no misconstruction more utterly untrue and fatal than this: that oratory is an artificial thing, which deals with baubles and trifles, for the sake of making bubbles of pleasure for transient effect on mercurial audiences. So far from that, it is the consecration of the whole man to the noblest purposes to which one can address himself-the education and inspiration of his fellow men by all that there is in learning, by all that there is in thought, by all that there is in feeling, by all that there is in all of them, sent home through the channels of taste and beauty. And so regarded, oratory should take its place among the highest departments of education. BEECHER. 2. Once or twice in a lifetime we are permitted to enjoy the charm of noble manners, in the presence of a man or woman who have no bar in their nature, but whose character emanates freely in their word and gesture. A beautiful form is better than a beautiful face; a beautiful behavior is better than a beautiful form it gives a higher pleasure than statues or pictures,-it is the finest of the fine arts. A man is but a little thing in the midst of the objects of nature, yet, by the moral quality radiating from his countenance, he may abolish all considerations of magnitude, and in his manners equal the majesty of the world. I have seen an individual, whose manners, tho wholly within the conventions of elegant society, were never learned there, but were original and commanding, and held out protection and prosperity; one who did not need the aid of a court-suit, but carried the holiday in his eye; who exhilarated the fancy by flinging wide the doors of new modes of existence; who shook off the captivity of etiquette, with happy spirited bearing, good-natured and free as Robin Hood; yet with the port of an emperor, if need be, calm, serious, and fit to stand the gaze of millions. "Manners." EMERSON. 3. Is there not an amusement, having an affinity with the drama, which might be usefully introduced among us? I mean, Recitation. A work of genius, recited by a man of fine taste, enthusiasm, and powers of elocution, is a very pure and high gratification. Were this art cultivated and encouraged, great numbers, now insensible to the most beautiful compositions, might be waked up to their excellence and power. It is not easy to conceive of a more effectual way of spreading a refined taste through a community. The drama undoubtedly appeals more strongly to the passions than recitation; but the latter brings out the meaning of the author more. Shakespeare, worthily recited, would be better understood than on the stage. Recitation, sufficiently varied, so as to include pieces of chaste wit, as well as of pathos, beauty, and sublimity, is adapted to our present intellectual progress. CHANNING. LOUD 1. Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again! To show they are still free. Methinks I hear Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, I'm with you once again! I call to you With all my voice! I hold my hands to you, To show they still are free. I rush to you, "Tell on His Native Hills." J. S. KNOWLES. |