Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! Oh, for a falconer's voice- Rom. It is my soul-th't calls upon my name: Jul. Romeo! At the hour-of nine. Jul. I will not fail: 't is twenty years—till then! I have forgot-why-I did call thee back. Rom. Let me stand here-till thou remember it. Jul. I shall forget,-to have thee still stand there, Remembering-how I love thy company. Rom. And I'll still stay-to have thee-still-forget, Jul. 'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone : Rom. I would-I-were thy bird. Jul. Sweet,-so-would I. Yet I should kill thee-with much cherishing. Good-night, good night! parting—is such sweet sorrow,— Th't I shall say-good-night, till it be morrow. [Exit. Rom. Sleep-dwell-upon thine eyes,-peace-in thy breast! Would-I-were sleep-and peace-so-sweet—to rest! His help-to crave-and my dear hap―to tell. [Exit. XXVII.-HAMLET AND HIS MOTHER. SHAKESPEARE. Hamlet. Now,-mother,-what's the matter? Queen. Have you forgot me? What's the matter-now? No, by the rood! not so: You are the queen; your husband's-brother's wife; Queen. Nay, then,—I'll set those to you that can speak. Ham. Come,-come,-and sit you down; you shall not budge; You go not-till I set you up a glass— Where you may see-the inmost-part of you. Queen. What-wilt thou do?-thou wilt not murder me? Ham. Leave wringing of your hands: Peace, sit you down, And let me-wring-your heart: for so-I shall, If it be made-of penetrable stuff; If dam-ned custom-have not braz'd it so Th't it is proof—and bulwark-against sense. Queen. What have I done,-th't thou darest-wag thy tongue In noise-so rude against me? Th't blurs the grace-and blush-of modesty ; A rhapsody of words. Heaven's face-doth glow; (With tristful visage,—as against the doom,) That roars-so loud,-and thunders-in the index? Ham. Look here,-upon this picture,-and-on this; The counterfeit-presentment-of two brothers. To give the world assurance of a man: This-was-your husband. Look you-now-what follows: Queen. Oh! speak no more: Thou turn'st mine eyes-into my very soul; And there I see-such black-and grained spots As will not leave their tinct. Oh! speak to me-no more; These words,-(like daggers,)—enter in mine ears Ham. A murderer-and a villain; A slave,-th't is not twentieth part-the tithe- Queen. No more! Ham. A king-of shreds-and patches: Save me,-and hover o'er me-with your wings,— [Enter Ghost. You heavenly guards!-What would-you, gracious figure? Queen. Alas! he's mad! Ham. Do you not come-your tardy son to chide, Ghost. Do not forget: this visitation— Is but to whet-thy almost-blunted purpose. Ham. How is it with you, lady? Queen. Alas! how-is 't with you, Th't you do bend your eye-on vacancy, And-(with the incorporeal air)—do hold discourse? Whereon-do you look? Ham. On him! on him! Look you,-how pale he glares! His form-and cause-conjoined,—preaching—to stones,— Would make them capable. Do not look-upon me; Lest,-(with his piteous action,) you convert My stern effects: then-what I have to do Will want true color: tears,-(perchance,) for blood. Ham. Do you see nothing-there? Queen. Nothing-at all;-yet-all-th't is-I see. Ham. Nor did you nothing-hear? Ham. Why, look you there! look, how it steals away! My father, in his habit-as he lived! Look! where he goes,—even now,—out at the portal! [Exit Ghost. Queen. This is the very coinage—of your brain : This bodiless creation-ecstasy Is very cunning in. My pulse,—(as yours,) doth temperately—keep time,— And I-the matter-will re-word; which madness- Queen. O Hamlet! thou hast cleft my heart—in twain. And-when you are desirous-to be blest I'll-blessing-beg of you. XXVIII-LEAR AND HIS DAUGHTERS. SHAKESPEARE. Lear. Give me the map there. Know, th't we have divided (In three)-—our kingdom: and 't is our fast intent To shake all cares—and business—from our age; Conferring them-on younger strengths, while we- And you, (our no less loving son—of Albany,) We have (this hour) a constant will-to publish Our daughters'-several dowers, th't future strife May be prevented-now. The princes, (France—and Burgundy, Great rivals-in our youngest daughter's love,) Long in our court-have made their amorous sojourn, And here—are to be answered. Tell me, my daughters,— (Since now we will divest us-both of rule, Interest of territory, cares of state,)— Which of you-(shall we say) doth love us most? Th't we our largest bounty-may extend Where nature-doth with merit challenge. Goneril, (Our eldest-born,) speak first. Goneril. Sir, I love you-more than word-can wield the matter; Dearer than eye-sight, space,—and liberty; Beyond-what can be valued,-rich—or rare ; No less-than life,-with grace, health, beauty, honor; As much as child-e'er loved, or father—found. A love that makes breath-poor, and speech—unable; Beyond-all manner of so much I love you. Cordelia [aside.] (What shall Cordelia do? Love, and be silent!) Lear. Of all these bounds, (even from this line-to this, With shadowy forests-and with champaigns rich'd, With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,) We make thee-lady: To thine-and Albany's issues— Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter, Regan. I-am made of that self metal-as my sister, And prize me-at her worth. In my true heart I find-she-names my very deed of love; Which the most precious square-of sense possesses; In your dear-highness' love. Cor [aside.] (Then-poor Cordelia! And yet not so; since, I am sure,-my love's More richer than my tongue.) Lear. To thee-and thine,—(hereditary—ever,)— Lear. Nothing? Cor. Nothing. Lear. Nothing-will come of nothing: speak again. Cor. Unhappy-th't I am, I can not heave My heart-into my mouth: I love your majesty— According to my bond; nor more,-nor less. Lear. How, how, Cordelia? mend your speech-a little, Lest you mar-your fortunes. Cor. Good my lord, You have begot me, bred me,-loved me! I Return those duties back-as are right fit, Obey you,-love you, and most honor you. Why-have my sisters-husbands, if they say— They love you-all? Haply, when I shall wed, That lord-whose hand-must take my plight shall carry Half-my love with him, half-my care-and duty: Sure,-I-shall never marry-like my sisters, To love my father—all. Lear. But-goes thy heart-with this? Cor. Lear. So young, and so―untender? Cor. So young, (my lord,) and true. Ay, my good lord. Lear. Let it be so; thy truth, (then,) be thy dower: For, (by the sacred radiance-of the sun, The mysteries of Hecate and the night; By all the operation of the orbs, From whom we do exist, and cease—to be;) |