HORROR.

It is a green-ey'd monster, which doth make
The meat it feeds on; the cuckold lives in bliss,
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger,

ANGUISH.

But, oh, what cruel minutes tells he o’er,

Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves? Othello. O misery!

[Aside.} Iago. Poor and content, is rich, and rich enough: But riches fireless is as poor as winter,

PRETENDING.

To him, who ever fears, he shall be poor.→

SYMPATHY.

Good heaven! the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy.

I see this hath a little dashed your spirits.

PRETENDING.

Othello. Not a jot, not a jot.Farewell.

INDIFFERENCE.

If more thou dost perceive, let me know more.

JEALOUSY.

[Exit Iago.]

Why did I marry? This honest creature, doubtless, Sees, and knows more, much more, than he unfolds ;He knows all qualities, with a learned spirit

Of human dealings.

ANGUISH.

-If I prove her haggard,

THREATENING.

Tho' that her jesses were my dear heart-strings
I'd whistle her off, and let down the wind

To

prey at fortune.

IV. Wicked king's soliloquy, expressing his remorse for the murder of his brother Hamlet, king of Denmark.

COMPUNCTION.

King. Oh my offence is rank! it smells to heav'n !

It hath the primal eldest curse upon it--
A brother's murder.-Pray, I cannot,
HARDNESS of HEART.

Though inclination be as sharp as 'twill;
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin.
And both neglect.

GLIMPSE of HOPE.

-What if this cursed hand

Were thicker than itself with brother's blood?
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heav'ns
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy,
But to confront the visage of offence?

And what's in prayer, but this two-fold forec
To be fore-stall'd, e'er we come to fall,

1

Or pardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past

GUILT.

-But, Oh! what form of pray'r

Can serve my turn 2

DEPRECATION.

"Forgive me my foul murder!"

GUILT.

That cannot be; since I am still possess'd

Of those effects, for which I did the murder;
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardon'd, and retain the offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice;
Nay, oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law:

TERROR.

But 'tis not so above:
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In its true nature; we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence.—‹

HOPE.

Try what repentance can-what can it not
OBDURACY.

Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?

DESPAIR.

Oh wretched state! oh bosom black as death!
Oh limed soul! that, struggling to be free,.
Art more engaged!

ANGUISH.

Help, angels, make essay ! Bow, stubborn knees! and heart, with strings of steel, Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe;

[The king kneels; and, by his looks and gestures, expresses great agony and horror, but no penitential melting of the heart; after continuing a short time in that posture, he rises in despair, and speaks the following.]

DESPAIR.

My words fly up-my thoughts remain below-
Words without thoughts, never to heaven go.

V. The scene in which Cassius excites Brutus to op pose Caesar's power.

DISCONTENT.

Cassius. Well, honour is the subject of my story
I cannot tell, what you, and other men
Think of this life : but for my single self,
I had as lief not be, as live to be

CONTEMPT.

In awe of such a thing as I myself.

PRIDE.

I was born free as Cesar; so were you :
We both have fed as well, and we can both
Endure the winter's cold, as well as he:

NARRATION with CONTEMPT.

For once upon a raw and gusty day,
The troubled Tiber chafing with his shores;

1

QUESTION.

Cæsar says to me,

Leap in with me,

"Dar'st thou, Cassius, now
into this angry flood,

And swim to yonder point ?" Upon the word,

Accoutred as I was,

COURAGE.

[This passage cannot be expressed with life, without something of the action of swimming.]

I plunged in,

And bade him follow! so indeed he did,
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews, throwing it aside,
And stemming it with hearts of controversy:

FEAR.

But e'er we could arrive the point propos'd,

DISTRESS and INTREATING. Cæsar ery'd," Help me, Cassius, or I sink!" COURAGE.

Then, as Eneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy, upon his shoulders,
The old Anchises bear; so, from the waves of Tibers
Did I the tir'd Cæsar:

WONDER.

And this man

Is now become a god, and Cassius is

CONTEMPT.

A wretched creature, and must bend his body,
If Caesar carelessly but nod to him,

NARRATION with CONTEMPT.

Ile had a fever, when he was in Spain:
And when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake, 'tis truth, this god did shake!
His coward lips did from their colour fly ;---

RANT.

And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, CONTEMPT.

Did love its lustre.

I did hear him groan,
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans.
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,

SICKNESS.

Alas, it cry'd, "Give me some drink, Titinius"

WONDER.

As a sick girl! Ye gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestic world,
And bear the palm alone.

LISTENING.

Brutus. Another general shout!

WONDER.

I do believe, that these raptures are

DISCONTENT.

For some new honours that are heaped on Cæsar.

RANT.

Cassius. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow, world,

Like a Colossus! and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs, and peep about,
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.

REGRET.

Men at sometimes have been masters of their fates;
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings,

EXCITING.

Brutus and Cæsar! what should be in that Cæsar ?
Why should that name bé sounded more than yours
Write them together, your's is as fair a name;
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with them.
Brutus will start a ghost as soon as Cæsar.

WONDER.

Now in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed,
That he is grown so great!

CONTEMPT.

Age, thou art sham'd;

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods;
When went there by an age, since the sun shone,

R