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Where virtue is, these make more virtuous.
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt,
For fhe had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago,
I'll fee, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And, on the proof, there is no more but this,
Away at once with love or jealousy,

IAGO. I'm glad of this; for now I fhall have reafon To fhew the love and

With franker spirit.
Receive it from me.

duty that I bear you
Therefore, as I'm bound,
I speak not yet of proof.

Look to your wife, observe her well with Caffio;
Wear your eye, thus; not jealous, nor secure;
I would not have your free and noble nature
Out of felf-bounty be abus'd; look to't.
I know our country-difpofition well;

In Venice they do let Heav'n fee the pranks

They dare not fhew their husbands.

OTH. Doft thou say fo?

IAGO. She did deceive her father, marrying you;

And when the feem'd to shake, and fear your looks,
She lov'd them most.

OTH. And fo she did.

IAGO. Go to then;

She, that, fo young, could give out fuch a feeming

To feal her father's eyes up, close as oak

He thought 'twas witchcraft-But I'm much to blame;

I humbly do befeech you of your pardon,

For too much loving you.

Отн. I am bound to you for ever.

IAGO. I fee this hath a little dash'd your fpirits.

OTH. Not a jot, not a jot.

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IAGO. Trust me, I fear it has :

I hope you will confider what is fpoke

Comes from my love. But I do fee you're mov'd—

I am to pray you, not to ftrain my speech

To groffer iffues, not to larger reach,

Than to fufpicion.

OTH. I will not.

IAGO. Should you do fo, my Lord,

My fpeech would fall into fuch vile fuccefs,

Which my thoughts aim not at. Caffio's my worthy friend. My Lord, I fee you're mov'd

OTH. No, not much mov'd

I do not think but Defdemona's honest.

IAGO. Long live fhe fo! and long live you to think so! Отн. And yet, how nature erring from itself

IAGO. Ay, there's the point!—as (to be bold with you) Not to affect many propofed matches

Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,

Whereto we fee in all things nature tends:

Foh! one may fmell, in fuch, a will most rank,
Foul difproportions, thoughts unnatural.

But, pardon me, I do not in pofition

Diftinctly 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, fo repent.

Oтн. Farewel, farewel;

If more thou doft perceive, let me know more:

Set on thy wife t' obferve. Leave me, Fago.

JAGO. My Lord, I take my leave.

OTн. Why did I marry ?

This honeft creature, doubtless,

1

Sees,

Sees, and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.

IAGO. My Lord, I would I might entreat your Honour
To scan this thing no further; leave it to time:
Altho' 'tis fit that Caffio have his place,
For, fure, he fills it up with great ability;
Yet if you please to hold him off a while,
You fhall by that perceive him and his means;
Note, if your lady ftrain his entertainment
With any strong or vehement importunity;
Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
Let me be thought too bufy in my fears,
(As worthy cause I have to fear I am)

And hold her free, I do befeech your Honour.
Отн. Fear not my government.
IAGO. I once more take my leave,

SHAKESPEAR.

CHA P. XXVIII.

HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY ON HIS MOTHER'S

MARRIAGE,

H that this too too folid flesh would melt,

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Thaw, and resolve itfelf into a dew!

Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd

His canon 'gainst self-flaughter!

How weary, ftale, flat, and unprofitable,

Seem to me all the ufes of this world!

Fie on't! oh fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,

That grows to feed; things rank, and grofs in nature,
Poffefs it merely. That it fhould come to this!

But two months dead! nay, not fo much; not two;-
So excellent a king, that was, to this,
D d 4

Hyperion

Hyperion to a fatyr: fo loving to my mother,
That he permitted not the winds of heav'n
Visit her face too roughly. Heav'n and earth!
Muft I'remember why, fhe 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 thofe fhoes were old,
With which the follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears- -Why, fhe, ev'n fhe-

(O Heav'n! a beaft that wants discourse of reason,
Would have mourn'd longer-) married with mine uncle,
My father's brother; but no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules. Within a month!-
Ere yet the falt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,

She married--Oh, moft wicked speed, to post
With fuch dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.

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

SHAKESPEAR.

HAM.

С Н А Р.

XXIX.

AND

GHOST.

HAMLET

A

NGELS and minifters of grace defend us!

Be thou a fpirit of health, or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heav'n, or blafts from hell,

Be thy intent wicked or charitable,

Thou com'ft in fuch a questionable shape,

That I will fpeak to thee.

I'll call thee Hamlet,

King, Father, Royal Dane: oh! anfwer me;

Let

Let me not burft in ignorance; but tell,
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearfed in earth,
Have burft their cearments? why the fepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd,

Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To caft thee up again? What may this mean?
That thou, dead corfe, again in compleat steel,
Revifit'ft thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous, and us fools of nature
So horribly to shake our difpofition

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our fouls?
Say, why is this? wherefore? what fhould we do?
GHOST. Mark me..

HAM. I will.

GHOST. My hour is almost come,

When I to fulphurous and tormenting flames

Muft render up myself.

HAM. Alas, poor ghoft!

GHOST. Pity me not, but lend thy ferious hearing

To what I fhall 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 fpirit;

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 fecrets of my prifon-house,

I could a tale unfold, whofe lightest word

Would harrow up thy foul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like ftars, ftart from their spheres,

Thy

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