FRIENDSHIP.

HAM. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
As e'er my conversation coped withal.
HOR. O, my dear lord
HAM.
Nay, do not think I flatter:
For what advancement may I hope from thee
That no revénue hast but thy good spirits,
To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor
be flattered ?

No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,
And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,
A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards
Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and blessed are
those

Whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled,
That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger
To sound what stop she please: Give me that

man

That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee.

SHAKESPEARE.

MARTIAL FRIENDSHIP.

FROM "CORIOLANUS.”

[Aufidius the Volscian to Caius Marcius Coriolanus.]

AUF.

O Marcius, Marcius !

Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me,
We have been down together in my sleep,
Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat,
And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy
Marcius,

Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but that
Thou art thence banished, we would muster all
From twelve to seventy; and, pouring war
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,
Like a bold flood o'erbear. O, come! go in,
And take our friendly senators by the hands,
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
Who am prepared against your territories,
Though not for Rome itself.

A thousand welcomes !
And more a friend than e'er an enemy;
Yet, Marcius, that was much.

SHAKESPEARE.

THE MEMORY OF THE HEART.

Ir stores of dry and learned lore we gain,
We keep them in the memory of the brain;
Names, things, and facts,

edge call,

whate'er we knowl

There is the common ledger for them all;
And images on this cold surface traced
Make slight impression, and are soon effaced.
But we've a page, more glowing and more bright,
On which our friendship and our love to write ;
That these may never from the soul depart,
We trust them to the memory of the heart.
There is no dimming, no effacement there ;
Each new pulsation keeps the record clear;

Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my Warm, golden letters all the tablet fill,

heart

A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter

Should from yond' cloud speak divine things,

and say,

Nor lose their luster till the heart stands still.

DANIEL WEBSTER.

"T is true," I'd not believe them more than thee, WHEN TO THE SESSIONS OF SWEET SILENT All-noble Marcius. - Let me twine

Mine arms about that body, where-against
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke,
And scared the moon with splinters! Here I clip
The anvil of my sword; and do contest
As hotly and as nobly with thy love,
As ever in ambitious strength I did
Contend against thy valor. Know thou first,
I loved the maid I married; never man
Sighed truer breath; but that I see thee here,
Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell
thee,

We have a power on foot; and I had purpose
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,
Or lose mine arm for 't. Thou hast beat me out
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since

THOUGHT.

SONNET.

WHEN to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan,
Which I new pay, as if not paid before ;
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored, and sorrows end.

SHAKESPEARE.

EARLY FRIENDSHIP.

Besides, we had our higher loves, fair science ruled my heart,

And she said her young affections were all woundTM up in art.

So we laughed at those wise men who say that friendship cannot live

'Twixt man and woman, unless each has something more to give :

THE half-seen memories of childish days,
When pains and pleasures lightly came and went;
The sympathies of boyhood rashly spent
In fearful wanderings through forbidden ways;
The vague, but manly wish to tread the maze
Of life to noble ends, whereon intent,
Asking to know for what man here is sent,
The bravest heart must often pause, and gaze,-
The firm resolve to seek the chosen end
Of manhood's judgment, cautious and mature,
Each of these viewless bonds binds friend to friend
With strength no selfish purpose can secure :
My happy lot is this, that all attend
That friendship which first came, and which shall High friendship, such as ours, might well such

last endure.

AUBREY DE VERE.

A TEMPLE TO FRIENDSHIP.

We would be friends, and friends as true as e'er were man and man ;

I'd be a second David, and she Miss Jonathan.

We scorned all sentimental trash,
tears, and sighs;

childish arts despise ;

vows, kisses,

We liked each other, that was all, quite all there was to say,

So we just shook hands upon it, in a business sort of way.

A TEMPLE to Friendship," cried Laura, en- We shared our secrets and our joys, together chanted, hoped and feared,

"I'll build in this garden; the thought is With common purpose sought the goal that young divine."

So the temple was built, and she now only wanted
An image of Friendship, to place on the shrine.

Ambition reared;

We dreamed together of the days, the dreambright days to come,

We

e were strictly confidential, and we called each other "chum."

So she flew to the sculptor, who sat down before her
An image, the fairest his art could invent;
But so cold, and so dull, that the youthful adorer And many a day we wandered together o'er the
Saw plainly this was not the Friendship she meant.

hills,

"Well, good by, chum !" I took her hand, for The words came lightly, gayly, but a great sob, the time had come to go.

just behind,

My going meant our parting, when to meet, we Welled upward with a story of quite a different did not know.

I had lingered long, and said farewell with a very heavy heart;

For although we were but friends, 't is hard for honest friends to part.

kind.

And then she raised her eyes to mine, great liquid eyes of blue,

Filled to the brim, and running o'er, like violet cups of dew;

"Good by, old fellow ! don't forget your friends One long, long glance, and then I did, what I beyond the sea, never did before And some day, when you've lots of time, drop a Perhaps the tears meant friendship, but I'm line or two to me. sure the kiss meant more. WILLIAM B. TERRETT,