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Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! Oh, for a falconer's voice-
To lure this tassel-gentle-back-again!
Bondage-is hoarse,—and may not-speak aloud;
Else-would I tear the cave-where Echo lies,-
And make her airy tongue-more hoarse-than mine
With repetition-of my Romeo.

Rom. It is my soul-th't calls upon my name:
How silver-sweet-sound lovers' tongues-by night,
Like softest music-to attending ears!

Jul. Romeo!

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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,
Forgetting any other home-but this.

Jul. 'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone :
And yet no further—than a wanton's bird;
Who lets it hop-a little-from her hand,
(Like a poor prisoner—in his twisted gyves,)
And-(with a silk thread) plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous-of his liberty.

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!
Hence-will I-to my ghostly father's cell,

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. Hamlet,-thou hast thy father-much offended.
Ham. Mother,-you-have my father-much offended.
Queen. Come,-come! you answer-with an idle tongue.
Ham. Go,-go !-you-question-with a wicked tongue.
Queen. Why, how now,-Hamlet?
Ham.

Queen. Have you forgot me?
Ham.

What's the matter-now?

No, by the rood! not so:

You are the queen; your husband's-brother's wife;
And, would-it were not so!-you-are my mother.

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?

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Th't blurs the grace-and blush-of modesty ;
Calls virtue-hypocrite; takes off the rose-
From the fair forehead-of an innocent love-
And sets a blister—there; makes marriage-vows-
As false-as dicers' oaths: Oh! such a deed-
As-from the body-of contraction-plucks
The very soul; and sweet religion-makes

A rhapsody of words. Heaven's face-doth glow;
Yea, this solidity-and compound mass,—

(With tristful visage,—as against the doom,)
Is thought-sick-at the act.

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That roars-so loud,-and thunders-in the index?

Ham. Look here,-upon this picture,-and-on this;

The counterfeit-presentment-of two brothers.
See what a grace -was seated-on this brow:
Hyperion's curls; the front-of Jove-himself;
An eye-like Mars,-to threaten-or-command;
A station-like the herald Mercury,
New-lighted-on a heaven-kissing hill;
A combination-and a form,—indeed,
Where every god-did seem-to set his seal,

To give the world assurance of a man:

This-was-your husband. Look you-now-what follows:
Here-is-your husband; like a mildew'd ear,—
Blasting his wholesome-brother. Have you eyes?
Could you on this fair mountain-leave-to feed-
And batten on this moor? Ha! have you-eyes?
You can not-call it love: for,-at your age,—
The hey-day-in the blood-is tame,—it's humble,—
And waits-upon the judgment: and what judgment
Would step-from this-to this?

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
No more, sweet Hamlet.

Ham.

A murderer-and a villain;

A slave,-th't is not twentieth part-the tithe-
Of your precedent lord: a vice-of kings;
A cutpurse of the empire-and the rule;
Th't-(from a shelf) the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket!

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,
Th't,-(lapsed in time-and passion,) lets go by
The important acting-of your dread command?
Oh, say!

Ghost. Do not forget: this visitation—

Is but to whet-thy almost-blunted purpose.
But-look amazement-on thy mother sits:
Oh! step-between her-and her fighting soul:
Conceit-in weakest bodies-strongest-works :
Speak to her, Hamlet.

Ham.

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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.
Queen. To whom do you speak this?

Ham.

Do you see nothing-there?

Queen. Nothing-at all;-yet-all-th't is-I see.

Ham. Nor did you nothing-hear?

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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.

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My pulse,—(as yours,) doth temperately—keep time,—
And make—as healthful music. It is not madness—.
Th't I have utter'd: bring me to the test,-

And I-the matter-will re-word; which madness-
Would gambol from. Mother, (for love of grace,)—
Lay not-that-flattering unction—to your soul,—
Th't not your trespass,—but my madness,-speaks:
It will but skin-and film-the ulcerous place,—
Whilst rank corruption,—(mining all—within),-
Infects-unseen. Confess yourself-to Heaven;
Repent-what's past; avoid-what is to come;
And do not spread the compost-on the weeds,—
To make them-ranker.

Queen. O Hamlet! thou hast cleft my heart—in twain.
Ham. Oh, throw away-the worser part of it,
And live-the purer-with the other half.
Good-night; once more-good-night!

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-
(Unburthen'd) crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall,

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,
Our dearest Regan, wife-to Cornwall? Speak.

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;
Only-she comes too short;-th't I—profess
Myself an enemy—to all—other joys,

Which the most precious square-of sense possesses;
And find-I am-alone-felicitate—

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,)—
Remain this ample third—of our fair kingdom;
No less-in space, validity, and pleasure,
Than that-conferr'd on Goneril. Now,-our joy,
(Although our last, not least; to whose young love-
The vines of France-and milk—of Burgundy—
Strive to be interess'd;) what can you say, to draw
A third-more opulent-than your sisters? Speak.
Cor. Nothing,—my lord.

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;)

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