As an unperfect actor on the stage,

Who with his fear is put besides his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart;
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say

The perfect ceremony of love's rite,

And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might.
O, let my books be then the eloquence

And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love, and look for recompense,

More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.
O, learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.

"Sonnets."

SHAKESPEARE.

TRANSITION

The abrupt changes and quick contrasts made in the modulations of the voice are called transitions. The ability to make these changes promptly and gracefully is an important element in good reading.

1. Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows,
And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flow;
But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar.

When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,
The line, too, labors, and the words move slow;
Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain,
Flies o'er the unbending corn and skims along the main.
"Essay on Criticism."

POPE.

2. O, how our organ can speak with its many and wonderful

voices !

Play on the soft lute of love, blow the loud trumpet of war, Sing with the high sesquialter, or, drawing its full diapason, Shake all the air with the grand storm of its pedals and stops. STORY.

3. Ever, as on they bore, more loud,
And louder rang the pibroch proud.
At first the sound, by distance tame,
Mellowed, along the waters came;
And lingering long by cape and bay,
Wailed every harsher note away;
When bursting bolder on the ear,

The clan's shrill gathering they could hear,-
Those thrilling sounds, that call the might
Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight.

4. How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at intervals upon the ear
In cadence sweet, now dying all away,
Now pealing loud again and louder still,
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on.

COWPER.

5. When you are enacting a part, think of your voice as a color, and, as you paint your picture (the character you are painting, the scene you are portraying), mix your colors. You have on your palate a white voice, la voix blanche; a heavenly, ethereal or blue voice, the voice of prayer; a disagreeable, jealous, or yellow voice; a steel-gray voice, for quiet sarcasm; a brown voice of hopelessness; a lurid, red voice of hot rage; a deep, thunderous voice of black; a cheery voice, the color of the green sea, that a brisk breeze is crisping; and then there's a pretty little pink voice and shades of violet-but the subject is endless.

MANSFIELD.

CLIMAX

Climax is the artistic building up of a dramatic effect by means of increased force and intensity.

1. We have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have supplicated, we have prostrated ourselves at the foot of the throne. PATRICK HENRY.

2. I not only did not say this, but did not even write it; I not only did not write it, but took no part in the embassy; I not only took no part in the embassy, but used no persuasion with the Thebans.

"On the Crown."

DEMOSTHENES.

3. It is coming fast upon you; already it is near at hand-yet a few short weeks, and we may be in the midst of those unspeakable miseries the recollection of which now rends your souls asunder. LORD BROUGHAM.

4. They must be repealed. You will repeal them. I pledge myself for it that you will in the end repeal them: I stake my reputation on it. I will consent to be taken for an idiot if they are not finally repealed. CHATHAM.

5. Ay, is it so?

Then wakes the power which in the age of iron
Bursts forth to curb the great, and raise the low.
Mark, where she stand: around her form I draw
The awful circle of our solemn Church!

Set but a foot within that holy ground,

And on thy head-yea, tho it wore a crown—
I launch the curse of Rome!

"Richelieu."

EDWARD BULWER-LYTTON.

6. I impeach Warren Hastings, Esquire, of high crimes and misdemeanors.

I impeach him in the name of the Commons of Great Britain, in Parliament assembled, whose parliamentary trust he has betrayed.

I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of Great Britain, whose national character he has dishonored.

I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose laws, rights, and liberties he has subverted, whose property he has destroyed, whose country he has laid waste and desolate

I impeach him in the name, and by virtue, of those eternal laws of justice which he has violated.

I impeach him in the name of human nature itself, which he has cruelly outraged, injured, and oppressed, in both sexes, in every age, rank, situation and condition of life.

"Impeachment of Warren Hastings."

7. Look to your hearths, my lords!

EDMUND BURKE.

For there, henceforth, shall sit, for household gods,
Shapes hot from Tartarus; all shames and crimes;
Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn;
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup;
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe,
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones;
Till Anarchy comes down on you like night,
And massacre seals Rome's eternal grave.
"Catiline's Defiance."

GEORGE CROLY.

8. Then soon he rose; the prayer was strong;
The Psalm was warrior David's song;

The text, a few short words of might—
"The Lord of hosts shall arm the right!"
He spoke of wrongs too long endured,
Of sacred rights to be secured;
Then from his patriot tongue of flame
The startling words for Freedom came.

The stirring sentences he spake
Compelled the heart to glow or quake,
And, rising on the theme's broad wing,
And grasping in his nervous hand
The imaginary battle-brand,

In face of death he dared to fling

Defiance to a tyrant king.

"The Revolutionary Rising."

5. King Henry.

THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.

What's he, that wishes so?

My cousin Westmoreland?-No, my fair cousin :
If we are marked to die, we are enough

To do our country loss; and if to live,

The fewer men the greater share of honor.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold;

Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;

It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honor

I am the most offending soul alive.

No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honor,
As one man more, methinks, would share from me,
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more.
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called-the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tiptoe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors,
And say, "To-morrow is Saint Crispian":