Imatges de pÓgina
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Oth. Not a jot, not a jot.
Iago. Trust me, I fear it has :

I hope you

will consider what is spoke

Comes from my love. But I do see you're mov'd----
I am to pray you, not to strain my speech

To grosser issues, not to larger reach,
Than to suspicion.

Oth. I will not.

Iago. Should you do so, my Lord, My speech would fall into such vile

success "

Which my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy

friend.

My lord, I see you're mov'd

Oth. No, not much mov'd

I do not think but Desdemona's honest.

Iago. Long live she so! and long live you to think so!

Oth. And yet, how nature's erring from itself— Iago. Ay, there's the point!-as (to be bold with you)

Not to affect many proposed matches

Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,
Whereto we see in all things Nature tends:
Foh! one may smell, in such, a will most rank,
Foul disproportions, thoughts unnatural.
But, pardon me, I do not in position

Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear,
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
May fall to match you with her country forms
And, haply, so repent.

Oth. Farewel, farewel;

If more thou dost perceive, let me know more : Set on thy wife t'observe. Leave me, Iago. Iago. My lord, I take my leave.

Oth. Why did I marry?

This honest creature, doubtless

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Sees, and knows more, much more than he un

folds.

Iago. My lord, I would I might intreat your Honour

To scan this thing no further leave it to time

:

Altho' 'tis fit that Cassio have his place,
(For sure he fills it up with great ability;)
Yet if you please to hold him off a while,
You shall by that perceive him and his means :
Note, if your lady strain his entertainment
With any strong or vehement importunity :
Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
Let me be thought too busy in my fears,
(As worthy cause I have to fear I am )
And hold her free, I do beseech your Honour.
Oth. Fear not my government.

Iago. I once more take my leave.

SHAKESPEARE.

CHA P. XXVII I.

Hamlet's Soliloquy on his Mother's marriage.

On that this too too solid flesh would melt,

Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew;
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter!

How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't; oh fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in na-

ture,

Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
But two months dead! nay, not so much

two:

not

So excellent a king, that was, to this,
Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother,
That he permitted not the winds of heav'n
Visit her face too roughly. Heav'n and earth!
Must I remember!Why she would hang on

him

As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on: yet within a month

Let me not think-Frailty, thy name is Woman!
A little month! or ere those shoes were old

With which she followed my poor father's body Like Niobe, all tears-Why, she, even she

(O Heav'n! a beast that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd longer-) married with mine uncle,

father

My father's brother; but no more like my
Than I to Hercules. Within a month!
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married-O most wicked speed to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.

But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.

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SHAKESPEARE,

CHA P. X X I X.

Hamlet and Ghost.

Ħam. ANGELS and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heav'n, or blasts from hell,

Be thy intent wicked or charitable,

Thou com'st in such a questionable shape,
That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet,
King, Father, Royal Dane: Oh! answer me;
Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell,
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in earth,
Have burst their cearments? why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd,
Hath op'd his pond'rous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again? what may this mean?
That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel,
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon 1
Making night hideous, and us fools of nature
So horribly to shake our disposition

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?
Ghost. Mark me.-

Ham. I will....

Glost. My hour is almost come 9

When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames
Must render up myself.

Ham. Alas, poor ghost!

Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hear

ing

To what I shall unfold.

Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear.

Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt

hear.

Ham. What !

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit;

Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
And for the day confin'd to fast in fire:
Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature,
Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison-house 9

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,

Thy knotty and combined locks, to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine :
But this eternal blazon must not be

To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, oh list!
If thou didst ever thy dear father love—
Ham. O heav'n!

Ghost. Revenge his foul, and most unnatural murther.

Ham. Murther!

Ghost. Murther most foul, as in the best it is.
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
Ham. Haste me to know it, that I with wings
as swift

As meditation, or the thoughts of love,
May fly to my revenge.

Ghost. I find thee apt;

And duller should'st thou be, than the fat weed That roots itself in ease on Lethe's wharf,

Would'st thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear;
"Tis giv'n out, that, sleeping in my orchard,
A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death

Rankly abus'd but know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life,
Now wears his crown.

Ham. Oh, my prophetic soul! my uncle!

Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate

beast

With witchcraft of his wit with trait'rous

gifts,

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power

(O wicked wit, and gifts, that have the
So to seduce!) won to his shameful lust
The will of my most seeming virtuous Queen.
Oh, Hamlet, what a falling off was there!
But soft! methinks I scent the morning air-
Brief let me be sleeping within mine orchard,
My custom always in the afternoon
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole
With juice of cursed hebony in a phial,
And in the porches of mine ear did
The lep'rous distilment.-

pour

Thus was I sleeping, by a brother's hand,
Of life, of crown, of Queen, at once bereft ;
Cut off ev'n in the blossoms of my sin ;
No reck'ning made! but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my
head!

Ham. Oh horrible! oh horrible! most horrible!
Ghost. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;
But howsoever thou pursu'st this act,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
Against thy mother aught; leave her to heav'n
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
The glow-worm shews the matin to be near
And 'gins to pale his ineffectual fire.
Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me.

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Ham. Oh, all ye host of heav'n! oh earth! what

else!

And shall I couple hell? of fie! hold, my heart!

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