Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare, Act 3, Scene 2, Lines 255-’76 Antony addresses the crowd at Caesar’s funeral. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious: If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Caesar answer’d it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest– For Brutus is an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable men– Come I to speak in Caesar’s funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me: But Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man. You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And, sure, he is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause: What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him? O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason. Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, And I must pause till it come back to me. A Passionate Pen By Virginia Wales The reign of Queen Elizabeth I marked a pinnacle of the arts in England and the world. Free from the tyranny of her half-sister Mary’s reign, Elizabeth’s Protestant England allowed the nobility to enjoy entertainment like never before, creating a demand for talented playwrights and performers. Into the middle of this vacuum stepped William Shakespeare. Penning such enduring works as Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare amused the nobility with wit and wisdom, reintroducing stories and events of ancient times and reworking them to address themes pertinent to the Elizabethan political climate. Among many such works, the tragedy of Julius Caesar remains a powerful reminder that high intentions do not always justify actions. Shakespeare’s character Mark Antony—a friend of the murdered Caesar—argues this point in his oration at the great general’s funeral, singling out Brutus, whose ideals of a Roman utopia outweigh his loyalty to Caesar. In a skillful demonstration of pathos, Shakespeare’s Antony utilizes irony and figurative language to garner sympathy for his cause and expose Caesar’s presumed ambition as a mere delusion of the “honourable” Brutus. Applying irony and contrast, bitter Antony undermines his opponent’s justification for murder by showing the incongruity of Brutus’ actions and self-expressed integrity. While Antony readily acknowledges Caesar’s faults, he stands against the notion that Brutus espouses—a notion accusing Caesar of grabbing power at Rome’s expense. Antony comes merely “to bury Caesar, not to praise him,” yet he cannot allow Brutus to justify the killing with deception as to Caesar’s character. To this end, Antony directs his greatest weapon of rhetoric: irony. He concedes that if Caesar held ambitions, “it [were] a grievous fault,” yet, to Antony’s knowledge, Caesar displayed no ambitious propensities, even “thrice refus[ing]” a “kingly crown.” How “grievously hath Caesar answer’d“ for this lack of corrupt aspirations? Indeed, Brutus’ rationale for the murder appears shaky at best and delusional at worst. Antony continues by ironically proclaiming that “Brutus is an honourable man,” contrasting his opponent’s ill-justified actions with his hypocritical self-righteousness. Knowing that Brutus’ honor affirms his credibility, Antony attacks his adversary’s integrity by questioning this honor. The reiteration that “Brutus is an honourable man” throughout the speech, combined with clear evidence of a lack of ambition on the part of Caesar, reinforces the listener’s perception that Brutus’ honor cannot be relied upon. Undermining his opponent’s defense, grieving Antony applies irony and contrast, revealing the disparity between Brutus’ honor and conduct. Additionally, Shakespeare’s Antony uses vivid metaphoric language to grab attention and gain the commiseration of his audience. Such figurative phraseology appears early in the oration, making Antony’s point with morbid profundity. Conceding that Caesar’s faults may sully his memory, Antony grants that “[t]he evil men do lives after them,” indeed “[t]he good is oft interred with their bones.” By personifying “evil” and “good,” Antony imbues these lines with a memorable quality, ensuring the idea will linger in the minds of his audience. The word “interred” conjures images of graves and moldering corpses. Such imagery must live on within the minds of the audience—even as the evil that men do lives on. Antony ends his speech rather abruptly with words that reveal the bitterness of his sorrow. Indeed, “[his] heart is in the coffin…with Caesar.” Wretched, desolate, and broken, Antony eloquently expresses his love and loyalty for the dead man. Emptied by sorrow, Antony feels that he too has died, that indeed, his very heart lies in the coffin beside the body of his friend. What audience could come away untouched by such heartbreak? Capitalizing on the rawness of grief, Shakespeare’s Antony commands a pathos that cuts to the heart, using metaphoric language to capture the audience’s attention and emotions. Through Mark Antony’s oration, William Shakespeare reminds listeners that ideals do not always justify actions—a pertinent principle today and in Elizabethan times—while demonstrating that a man can possess faults without corrupt ambition. Logically well-rounded and entertaining, the speech reveals the rhetorical skill with which Shakespeare wields irony. Emotionally, the monologue is a masterpiece of pathos, unveiling the grief of one man at the murder of his friend. Indeed, one can imagine the original London audience heartily encouraging Antony as he soliloquizes on stage, meanwhile jeering the deluded Brutus. Penned with passion, Shakespeare’s Antony dexterously utilizes irony and metaphor to secure sympathy and expose Brutus’ presumption.

Ginny Wales It has always been a childhood dream of mine to become an artist. As a child, I loved to draw and always strove to improve my abilities. Because I never received any formal art education, I took it upon myself to learn all that I could from art books and photo albums. I was taught by the best of the Masters: Vermeer, Rembrandt, Monet, and any others whose works I saw in the pages of coffee-table books. Though I didn’t have a clue what the life of an artist would look like, I knew that I wanted to be one. So, I experimented, dabbling in a little of everything, but always trying my hardest to make the best works I could. College has given me the chance to achieve this lifelong dream, and I plan to work harder than ever to see it happen, whatever that may look like. I love working in the studio and always give my best on every piece, though sometimes I fall short of my own and others' expectations. When I face obstacles, technical or otherwise, I take them head-on and am always willing to test and troubleshoot to find a solution. Many times, I fail, but I never let it keep me from doing my best next time. All of this grit comes from a passion for the process of art making and my belief in the value of art to humanity. As we face the new challenges posed by AI and a culture that undervalues art, I believe it is more important than ever to teach the next generation the importance of art in the daily lives of people. I hope to do this by becoming a children’s book illustrator and inspiring kids to become artists, even as I was inspired as a child. Receiving this scholarship will get me one step closer to achieving this goal, God willing.

Seven years ago, I arrived at my first cross-country practice thinking it would be a breeze. It wasn’t. In fact, I cried for nearly the whole of the twenty-minute easy run. I know—that probably doesn’t sound like the most auspicious beginning to an athletic career, but here I am, seven years later, still running cross-country. So why did I stay? At first, I stayed because of the friends. As a homeschooler, I don’t have a lot of chances to socialize daily. Practice gave me a chance to get to know people my age and create meaningful relationships. I still hated the running, but at least I got to hang out with my friends. After a particularly challenging practice—I don’t remember the workout, but I do remember it was hot—I happened to overhear my coach talking to my mom through the open window of our car. “Don’t let her quit,” my coach said, “someday, she’s going to fly.” So I determined that I would fly. I did more than that—I learned to love running—I learned to love that feeling of accomplishment after a long run in the woods, the burning in my legs as I tackle a hill, the joy of beating my time in a 5k. I learned the importance of sportsmanship, camaraderie, and stretching. I was never the fastest girl on the team—not by a long shot—but I now knew I could achieve things I never would have thought to try before I became an athlete. Cross-country has taught me discipline, the kind that goes for solo runs on Saturdays in the pouring rain. I hope that with the help of this scholarship, I will be able to take this resilience and channel it toward starting my own freelance graphic design business. Cross-country is primarily a game of the mind. When your lungs and legs are telling you to stop, you have to tell yourself to keep running. Entrepreneurship is a lot like that, I think. When everyone tells you it can’t be done, when all your hard work flies in your face, when you think you’re on your last straw—that's when you have to get up and keep going. It's that marathon resilience that will get me over the professional finish line. When I look back to where I was seven years ago and see how far I’ve come, I can’t help but wonder how far I’ll go. I know someday, I’m going to fly if I just keep running.

Seven years ago, I arrived at my first cross-country practice thinking it would be a breeze. It wasn’t. In fact, I cried for nearly the whole of the twenty-minute easy run. I know—that probably doesn’t sound like the most auspicious beginning to an athletic career, but here I am, seven years later, still running cross-country. So why did I stay? At first, I stayed because of the friends. As a homeschooler, I don’t have a lot of chances to socialize daily. Practice gave me a chance to get to know people my age and create meaningful relationships. I still hated the running, but at least I got to hang out with my friends. After a particularly challenging practice—I don’t remember the workout, but I do remember it was hot—I happened to overhear my coach talking to my mom through the open window of our car. “Don’t let her quit,” my coach said, “someday, she’s going to fly.” So I determined that I would fly. I did more than that—I learned to love running—I learned to love that feeling of accomplishment after a long run in the woods, the burning in my legs as I tackle a hill, the joy of beating my time in a 5k. I learned the importance of sportsmanship, camaraderie, and stretching. I was never the fastest girl on the team—not by a long shot—but I now knew I could achieve things I never would have thought to try before I became an athlete. Cross-country has taught me discipline, the kind that goes for solo runs on Saturdays in the pouring rain. I hope that with the help of this scholarship, I will be able to take this resilience and channel it toward starting my own freelance graphic design business. Cross-country is primarily a game of the mind. When your lungs and legs are telling you to stop, you have to tell yourself to keep running. Entrepreneurship is a lot like that, I think. When everyone tells you it can’t be done, when all your hard work flies in your face, when you think you’re on your last straw—that's when you have to get up and keep going. It's that marathon resilience that will get me over the professional finish line. When I look back to where I was seven years ago and see how far I’ve come, I can’t help but wonder how far I’ll go. I know someday, I’m going to fly if I just keep running.

Seven years ago, I arrived at my first cross-country practice thinking it would be a breeze. It wasn’t. In fact, I cried for nearly the whole of the twenty-minute easy run. I know—that probably doesn’t sound like the most auspicious beginning to an athletic career, but here I am, seven years later, still running cross-country. So why did I stay? At first, I stayed because of the friends. As a homeschooler, I don’t have a lot of chances to socialize daily. Practice gave me a chance to get to know people my age and create meaningful relationships. I still hated the running, but at least I got to hang out with my friends. After a particularly challenging practice—I don’t remember the workout, but I do remember it was hot—I happened to overhear my coach talking to my mom through the open window of our car. “Don’t let her quit,” my coach said, “someday, she’s going to fly.” So I determined that I would fly. I did more than that—I learned to love running—I learned to love that feeling of accomplishment after a long run in the woods, the burning in my legs as I tackle a hill, the joy of beating my time in a 5k. I learned the importance of sportsmanship, camaraderie, and stretching. I was never the fastest girl on the team—not by a long shot—but I now knew I could achieve things I never would have thought to try before I became an athlete. Cross-country has taught me discipline, the kind that goes for solo runs on Saturdays in the pouring rain. I hope that with the help of this scholarship, I will be able to take this resilience and channel it toward starting my own freelance graphic design business. Cross-country is primarily a game of the mind. When your lungs and legs are telling you to stop, you have to tell yourself to keep running. Entrepreneurship is a lot like that, I think. When everyone tells you it can’t be done, when all your hard work flies in your face, when you think you’re on your last straw—that's when you have to get up and keep going. It's that marathon resilience that will get me over the professional finish line. When I look back to where I was seven years ago and see how far I’ve come, I can’t help but wonder how far I’ll go. I know someday, I'm going to fly if I just keep running.

My Teacher, The Girl with a Pearl Earring By Virginia Wales From an outside perspective, my art education may look rather scant. I had never taken any formal training, yet I knew I had talent, and I knew I wanted to use it. Consequently, my parents began to encourage my love of learning and passion for drawing to magnify truth, beauty, and goodness. From an early age, I began experimenting independently with techniques new and old, finding teachers in masters such as Rembrandt, Monet, Picasso, and Durer. I discovered the importance of proportion and perspective by applying small aspects of each master’s unique style to my creations and by copying their works. Though many individual works have helped me improve my artistic proficiency, one remains especially meaningful and continually enlightening. Perhaps less popular than her enigmatic cousin The Mona Lisa (1503) by Leonardo da Vinci, Johannes Vermeer’s painting Girl with a Pearl Earring (c.1665) exudes the same modest ambiguity. Inspiring me with soft geometry and luminous composition, Vermeer’s painting is simple yet refined, a masterpiece revealing the juxtaposition of light and shadow. Indeed, I have rendered this work several times in various styles, each time feeling as though I know a little more about the subject. The frankness in the model’s expression seems to suggest a secret has been revealed. For me, the real secret lies within the structure of the painting itself. In my attempts to reimagine this painting, I have learned—and am learning—much about the dichotomy of shadows and light in art. On my first attempt at a replica, I chose a realistic style, using a soft pencil to sketch and shade. While coloring the drawing, I compared my facsimile to the original, wondering why the lighter areas of my interpretation looked flat. In referring to the initial painting, I discovered that the lighter regions were much more than mere blocks of white—in reality, the illuminated areas of the painting had just as much depth as the shadowed areas. Not only has this realization shown me how to improve my drawings, but it has also given me a new appreciation for the beauty of light. Who better to teach me about light and shade than Vermeer, the master of illumination himself? Since that first attempt at reimagining Vermeer’s masterpiece, I have continued to experiment with various mediums in my own original works, even attempting a second rendition of Girl with a Pearl Earring in acrylics. In refining and perfecting my methods, I hope to one day master light just like the Dutch master. Indeed, I have recently revisited Girl with a Pearl Earring in another drawing, choosing to portray the famous subject in an Art Nouveau style, and have noticed a significant improvement on my first attempt. With this scholarship, I hope to further my studies and improve my abilities, never forgetting my friend, my inspiration, my teacher—the bright-faced girl wearing a pearl earring.

The Pursuit of Truth, Beauty, and Goodness Virginia Wales When I look at my life, I am reminded of 2 Timothy 1:5, in which Paul reminds the young disciple Timothy of his heritage of faith. Paul is filled with joy at Timothy’s “sincere faith, a faith that dwelt first in [his] grandmother Lois and [his] mother Eunice and now…dwells in [Timothy] as well.” In the same way, my parents instilled in me a love of scripture which has led me to a faith of my own, which I want to share through my talent for art. I have always enjoyed creating and studying art, and have developed a talent for drawing. I enjoy experimenting with techniques new and old and have recently become interested in graphic design. Higher education would allow me to pursue this discipline more seriously. However, senior year is stressful, and I frequently become anxious about my mounting workload and the gap in my prospective school’s financial aid. My faith in Christ has been such a firm foundation during this time. Whenever I begin to panic, I remember Philippians 4:6, which says, “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” I want to go to college to hone my talents and skills, take on academic challenges, and grow in my faith through fellowship with other believers. While working toward my degree, I would like to begin taking on responsibility by working on campus. Ultimately, I want to work as an artist, producing useful and beautiful things that magnify God. My hope is that attending Union University will help me achieve these goals in an environment where my faith can grow. I have chosen Union because of the intentionality with which they integrate Christian faith, doctrine, and morals into student life, and because of their commitment to Biblical truth in an increasingly deluded modern age. On visiting the campus for the first time, I was impressed with the dedication of the faculty in teaching with biblical principles in mind. I was deeply touched on my tour of the Union Art Department on being invited to write down my name, alongside those of many others, so that the students could pray for me. Aside from its spiritual focus, I would like to attend Union for its high academic standards and its emphasis on positive relationships between faculty and students. My plans for the future do not end after graduation. With the skills I learn in college, I hope to become a freelance graphic designer or illustrator, taking commissions for book covers, posters, and logos. I wish to uphold truth, beauty, and goodness with my art, showing others how creative skill can be used to glorify God. My highest goal is to become a wife and a homeschool mom. This has been my dream since I started homeschooling in fourth grade. I want to bring my children up as Eunice brought up Timothy (2 Tim 1:5), and as my mother brought me up. In the meantime, I will continue to pursue my art. I hope that winning this scholarship will help me achieve this goal.

Advancing the Pursuit of Beauty By Virginia Wales Inside each of us resides a slumbering desire for something meaningful, something original, something beautiful. Indeed, the Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky once declared that “[b]eauty will save the world.” I am inclined to agree. Humanity’s pursuit of beauty has inspired artists, playwrights, musicians, writers, and architects to produce works that reveal the depths of what it means to be human. Unfortunately, modernity can distract us from the wonder of originality, trading reflections on the human soul for the algorithmic imitations of AI. That said, I do not necessarily think this technology should be avoided; on the contrary, I think AI can be a valuable tool for artists. Indeed, I aim to use this technology in my prospective field of graphic design. Through graphic design, my goal is to revive the wonder of human creativity by becoming successful professionally and inspiring others to explore the universal themes that bind us together, all in the hope that one day, beauty will save the world. From a young age, my parents instilled in me a love of learning and a passion to use my gifts to magnify truth, beauty, and goodness. I have always enjoyed creating and studying art, and have developed a talent for drawing. Practicing this skill has given me an appreciation of the joy of creating something unique. I enjoy experimenting with techniques new and old and have recently become interested in graphic design. Higher education would allow me to pursue this discipline more seriously and fulfill my dream not only of promoting creativity but also of starting my own business. Now that I am a senior and preparing to go out on my own, I hope to use my creative gifts in tandem with modern technology to support myself. I want to go to college to hone my talents and learn new skills while taking on academic challenges. While working toward my degree, I would like to begin taking on responsibility by working on campus. Ultimately, I want to work as an artist, producing things that are useful and beautiful. With the skills I learn in college, I aspire to become a freelance graphic designer or illustrator, taking commissions for book covers, posters, and logos which can inspire young artists to embrace their skills and create using the technology available to them. In a rapidly evolving world, I worry that the instant image creation of AI will discourage people from being original and creative. Through graphic design, I want to marry this technology with human skill and creativity in the age-old pursuit of originality, meaning, and beauty.

My Teacher, The Girl with a Pearl Earring By Virginia Wales From an outside perspective, my art education may look rather scant. I had never taken any formal training, yet I knew I had talent, and I knew I wanted to use it. Consequently, my parents began to encourage my love of learning and passion for drawing to magnify truth, beauty, and goodness. From an early age, I began experimenting independently with techniques new and old, finding teachers in masters such as Rembrandt, Monet, Picasso, and Durer. I discovered the importance of proportion and perspective by applying small aspects of each master’s unique style to my creations and by copying their works. Though many individual works have helped me improve my artistic proficiency, one remains especially meaningful and continually enlightening. Perhaps less popular than her enigmatic cousin The Mona Lisa (1503) by Leonardo da Vinci, Johannes Vermeer’s painting Girl with a Pearl Earring (c.1665) exudes the same modest ambiguity. Inspiring me with soft geometry and luminous composition, Vermeer’s painting is simple yet refined, a masterpiece revealing the juxtaposition of light and shadow. Indeed, I have rendered this work several times in various styles, each time feeling as though I know a little more about the subject. The frankness in the model’s expression seems to suggest a secret has been revealed. For me, the real secret lies within the structure of the painting itself. In my attempts to reimagine this painting, I have learned—and am learning—much about the dichotomy of shadows and light in art. On my first attempt at a replica, I chose a realistic style, using a soft pencil to sketch and shade. While coloring the drawing, I compared my facsimile to the original, wondering why the lighter areas of my interpretation looked flat. In referring to the initial painting, I discovered that the lighter regions were much more than mere blocks of white—in reality, the illuminated areas of the painting had just as much depth as the shadowed areas. Not only has this realization shown me how to improve my drawings, but it has also given me a new appreciation for the beauty of light. Who better to teach me about light and shade than Vermeer, the master of illumination himself? Since that first attempt at reimagining Vermeer’s masterpiece, I have continued to experiment with various mediums in my own original works, even attempting a second rendition of Girl with a Pearl Earring in acrylics. In refining and perfecting my methods, I hope to one day master light just like the Dutch master. Indeed, I have recently revisited Girl with a Pearl Earring in another drawing, choosing to portray the famous subject in an Art Nouveau style, and have noticed a significant improvement on my first attempt. With this scholarship, I hope to further my studies and improve my abilities, never forgetting my friend, my inspiration, my teacher—the bright-faced girl wearing a pearl earring.

Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare, Act 3, Scene 2, Lines 255-’76 Antony addresses the crowd at Caesar’s funeral. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious: If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Caesar answer’d it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest– For Brutus is an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable men– Come I to speak in Caesar’s funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me: But Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man. You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And, sure, he is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause: What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him? O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason. Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, And I must pause till it come back to me. A Passionate Pen By Virginia Wales The reign of Queen Elizabeth I marked a pinnacle of the arts in England and the world. Free from the Catholic tyranny of her half-sister Mary’s reign, Elizabeth’s Protestant England allowed the nobility to enjoy entertainment like never before, creating a demand for talented playwrights and performers. Into the middle of this vacuum stepped William Shakespeare. Penning such enduring works as Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare amused the nobility with wit and wisdom, reintroducing stories and events of ancient times and reworking them to address themes pertinent to the Elizabethan political climate. Among many such works, the tragedy of Julius Caesar remains a powerful reminder that high intentions do not always justify actions. Shakespeare’s character Mark Antony—a friend of the murdered Caesar—argues this point in his oration at the great general’s funeral, singling out Brutus, whose ideals of a Roman utopia outweigh his loyalty to Caesar. In a skillful demonstration of pathos, Shakespeare’s Antony utilizes irony and figurative language to garner sympathy for his cause and expose Caesar’s presumed ambition as a mere delusion of the “honourable” Brutus. Applying irony and contrast, bitter Antony undermines his opponent’s justification for murder by showing the incongruity of Brutus’ actions and self-expressed integrity. While Antony readily acknowledges Caesar’s faults, he stands against the notion that Brutus espouses—a notion accusing Caesar of grabbing power at Rome’s expense. Antony comes merely “to bury Caesar, not to praise him,” yet he cannot allow Brutus to justify the killing with deception as to Caesar’s character. To this end, Antony directs his greatest weapon of rhetoric: irony. He concedes that if Caesar held ambitions, “it [were] a grievous fault,” yet, to Antony’s knowledge, Caesar displayed no ambitionist propensities, even “thrice refus[ing]” a “kingly crown.” How “grievously hath Caesar answer’d“ for this lack of corrupt aspirations? Indeed, Brutus’ rationale for the murder appears shaky at best and delusional at worst. Antony continues by ironically proclaiming that “Brutus is an honourable man,” contrasting his opponent’s ill-justified actions with his hypocritical self-righteousness. Knowing that Brutus’ honor affirms his credibility, Antony attacks his adversary’s integrity by questioning this honor. The reiteration that “Brutus is an honourable man” throughout the speech combined with clear evidence of a lack of ambition on the part of Caesar reinforces the listener’s perception that Brutus’ honor cannot be relied upon. Undermining his opponent’s defense, grieving Antony applies irony and contrast, revealing the disparity between Brutus’ honor and conduct. Additionally, Shakespeare’s Antony uses vivid metaphoric language to grab attention and gain the commiseration of his audience. Such figurative phraseology appears early in the oration, making Antony’s point with morbid profundity. Conceding that Caesar’s faults may sully his memory, Antony grants that “[t]he evil men do lives after them,” indeed “[t]he good is oft interred with their bones.” By personifying “evil” and “good,” Antony imbues these lines with a memorable quality, ensuring the idea will linger in the minds of his audience. The word “interred” conjures images of graves and moldering corpses. Such imagery must live on within the minds of the audience—even as the evil that men do lives on. Antony ends his speech rather abruptly with words that reveal the bitterness of his sorrow. Indeed, “[his] heart is in the coffin…with Caesar.” Wretched, desolate, and broken, Antony eloquently expresses his love and loyalty for the dead man. Emptied by sorrow, Antony feels that he too has died, that indeed, his very heart lies in the coffin beside the body of his friend. What audience could come away untouched by such heartbreak? Capitalizing on the rawness of grief, Shakespeare’s Antony commands a pathos that cuts to the heart, using metaphoric language to capture the audience’s attention and emotions. Through Mark Antony’s oration, William Shakespeare reminds listeners that ideals do not always justify actions—a pertinent principle today and in Elizabethan times—while demonstrating that a man can possess faults without corrupt ambition. Logically well-rounded and entertaining, the speech reveals the rhetorical skill with which Shakespeare wields irony. Emotionally, the monologue is a masterpiece of pathos, unveiling the grief of one man at the murder of his friend. Indeed, one can imagine the original London audience heartily encouraging Antony as he soliloquizes on stage, meanwhile jeering the deluded Brutus. Penned with passion, Shakespeare’s Antony dexterously utilizes irony and metaphor to secure sympathy and expose Brutus’ presumption.