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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.
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
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
Oth. And yet, how nature's erring from itselfIago. 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 smel!, 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,
Sees, and knows more, much more than he unfolds.
Iago. My lord, I would I might intreat your
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.
CHA P. XXVII I.
Hamlet's Soliloquy on his Mother's marriage.
H 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
Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead! nay, not so much
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
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
My father's brother; but no more like my father,
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.
Hamlet and Ghost.
Ham. 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 9
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,
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.
Glost. My hour is almost come,
When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames
Must render up myself.
Ham. Alas, poor ghost!
Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.
Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear.
Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt
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,
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their
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
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
With witchcraft of his wit, with trait'rous
(O wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power
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 pour
The lep'rous distilment.-
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
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.
Ham. Oh, all ye host of heav'n! oh earth! what` else!
And shall I couple hell? of fie! hold, my heart!