There you shall find that Portia was the doctor; You shall not know by what strange accident Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you not? Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living; For here I read for certain, that my ships Are safely come to road. Por. How now, Lorenzo? My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee.- From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people. Por. [Exeunt. EXAMINATION ON ACT V. 1. How many scenes does this act contain? 2. How is this act necessary to the development of the plot? 3. In what does the beauty of the passage beginning "How sweet the moonlight" consist? 4. What other beautiful passages might be quoted from this act? 5. Which, on the whole, may be considered the finest act in this drama? 6. Quote some particularly fine examples of harmonious versification from the whole play? 7. Which may be called the leading character in this play? 8. State some of the various points for criticism in a drama. 9. In which of these points does Shakspere more particularly excel? 10. When did the dramatic form of literature first flourish in England? LYRICAL POETRY. THOMAS GRAY. ODE I. ON THE SPRING. Lo! where the rosy-bosomed Hours, The untaught harmony of Spring, Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch Beside some water's rushy brink, Still is the toiling hand of care, Yet hark! how through the peopled air 1 The Hours, the attributes of Spring, are represented by the poets as adorning Aphrodite (Venus), as she rose from the sea. 2 The nightingale. The insect youth are on the wing, To contemplation's sober eye, And they that creep, and they that fly, Methinks I hear, in accents low, Poor moralist! and what art thou? Thy joys no glittering female meets, ODE II. ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE. Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, And ye, that from the stately brow 1 King Henry VI. founded Eton College. Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along His silver-winding way! Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade Where once my careless childhood strayed, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye A momentary bliss bestow, blow As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to soothe, To breathe a second spring. Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen The captive linnet which enthrall? To chase the rolling circle's speed, While some, on earnest business bent, To sweeten liberty: Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions dare descry; Still, as they run, they look behind, Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed, Their's buxom health of rosy hue, And lively cheer, of vigour born. Alas! regardless of their doom, Yet see how, all around them, wait And black misfortune's baleful train! Ah, show them where in ambush stand To seize their prey the murderous band! Ah, tell them they are men! These shall the fury Passions tear, And Shame that skulks behind; That inly gnaws the secret heart, And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grim-visaged, comfortless Despair, And Sorrow's piercing dart. Ambition this shall tempt to rise, The stings of Falsehood those shall try, That mocks the tear it forced to flow; And keen Remorse, with blood defiled, And moody Madness laughing wild, Amid severest woe. Lo! in the vale of years beneath, |