Présentation de l'éditeur :
A dulateur I ACT I. SCENE I. A street in SERVIA Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS. BRUTUS. Sthis the once fam dmistress of the north? The sweet retreat of freedom? dearly purchas d! A clime matur dwith blood; from whose rich soil Has sprung a glorious harvest. Oh! my friend, The change how drear! the sullen ghost of bondageS talks full in view already with her pinions She shades the affrighted land th insulting soldiers Tread down our choicest rights; while hood wink djustice Drops her scales, and totters from her basis. Thus torn with nameless wounds, my bleeding country Demands a tear that tear Ill freely give her, Cassius. Oh! Brutus, our noble ancestors, Who hV dfor freedom, and for freedom dy d: Who scorn dto roll in affluence, if that state Was sicken do er with the dread name of slaves: Who in this desart stock dwith beasts and men, WT iose untam dsouls breath dnought but slaughter Grasp dat freedom, and they nobly won it; Then smiled and dy dcontented, Should these heroesS tart from their tombs and view their dear possessions, The price of so much labor, cost and blood, Gods! what a pang twould cost them; yes, theyd weep, Nor weep in vain.
(Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)
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