Imagens das páginas

Oth. Is’t lost ? is't gone? speak, is it out of the way?
Des. Heaven bless us!

Say you ?
Des. It is not lost; But what and if it were ?
Oth. Ha!
Des. I


it is not lost. Oth.

Fetch't, let me see it.
Des. Why, so I car., sir, but I will not now;
This is a trick, to put me from my suit ;

let Cassio be receiv'd again.
Oih. Fetch me that handkerchief: my mind misgives.

Des. Come, come ;
You'll never meet a more sufficient man.

Oth. The handkerchief,-

I pray, talk me of Cassio.
Oth. The handkerchief,

A man that, all his time,
Hath founded his good fortune on your love,
Shar'd dangers with you ;-

The handkerchief,
Des. In sooth,
You are to blame.

[Exit OTHELLA Emil.

Is not this man jealous ?
Des. I ne'er saw this before.
Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief:
I am most unnappy in the loss of it.

Emil. 'Tis not a year or two shows is a man:
Look you! Cassio and my husband.

Enter Iago, and Cassio.

Iago. There is no other way; 'tis she must do't , And, lo, the happiness! go, and importune her.

Des. How now, good Cassio ? what's the news with you?

Cas. Madam, my former suit : I do beseech you,
That, by your virtuous means, I may again
Exist, and be a member of his love.

Alas! thrice-gentle Cassia,
My advocation is not now in tune;
My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him,
Were he in favor, as in humor, alter'd.
So help me, every spirit sanctified,
As I have spoken for you

And stood within the blank of his displeasure,
For my free speech! You must a while be patient:
What I can do, I will; and more I will,
Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you.

Iago. Is my lord angry?

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He went hence but now,
And, certainly, in strange unquietness.

Iago. Can he be angry?
Something of moment, then: I will go meet him ;
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.

Des. I pr’ythee do so.—Something, sure, of state,– [Exit lago
Either from Venice; or some unhatch'd practice,
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,-
Hath puddled his clear spirit : and, in such cases,
Men's natures wrangle with inferior things,
Though great ones are their object.
Nay, we must think, men are not gods;
Nor of them look for such observances
As fit the bridal.

Emil. Pray heaven, it be state matters, as you think,
And no conception, nor no jealous toy,
Concerning you.

Des. Alas, the day! I never gave him cause.

Emil. But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they are jealous.

Des. I will go seek Othello.—Cassio, walk hereabout:
If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit,
And seek to affect it to my uttermost.
Cas. I humbly thank your ladyship.


The catastrophe of this noble domestic tragedy, is foreshadowed in our extracts. Othello, convinced of his wife's dishonor, is instigat-d by rage and jealousy to take her ife. But the innocence of Desdemona is proved by the confession of Emilia, and the Ciscovery of lago's treachery. Othello, overwhelme, wit griaf remorse destroy hlingolf, ani Iago is delivered a prisoner into the hande nf justica


The Tempest is supposed to be the last production of Shakspeare's mighty genius ; es it is generally acknowledged to be the most original and perfect of his works. In this Play the Poet has literally “given to airy nothings a local habitation and a name," endowing them with qualities and furnishing them with a fitness of language, which investi these creatures of his imaginings with all the charm and semblance of reality.

The story is simple in its construction, yet it is deeply interesting. Our selections pib sent the main incidents of the plot in consecutive succession.


Alonzo, King of Naples.
SEBASTIAN, his brother.
PROSPERO, the rightful Duke of Milan.
Antonio, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan.
FERDINAND, son to the King of Naples.
GONZALO, an honest old counsellor of Naples.
ADRIAN, FRANcisco, lords.
CALIBAN, a savage and deformed slave.
TRINCULO, a jester.
STEPHANO, a drunken butler.
Master of a ship, Boatswain, and Mariners.
MIRANDA, daughter to Prospero.
ARIEL, an airy spirit.
IRIS, CERES, JUNO, Nymphs, Reapers, spirits.

Other spirits attending on Prospero.


SCENE.-The Sea, with a Ship; afterwards an uninhabued Island,

Prospero, the rightful Duke of Milan, has been dethroned by his brother Antonio and banished from his dominions. Prospero seeks refuge in a desert island, with his daugater Miranda, and by magic arts, surrounds himself with “potent spirits," which

are obedient to his wiil. Having learned by his “magic" that his brother Antonio has embarked in a vessel for Naples, in company with Alonzo, King of Naples, the king's son, Ferdinand, together with certain lords of Milan and Naples, Prospero commands his trusty spirit Ariel, to wreck the vessel near the island, but to save the lives of the noble passengers and crew, and bring them, safely to shore. Prospero and his daughter Miranda witness the destruction of the vesse.,

NE II.—The Island : before the Cell of PROSPERO.

Mira. If by your art, my dearest father, you have
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them :
The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,
But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,
Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer'd
With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel,
Who had no doubt some noble creatures in her,
Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
Against my very heart! Poor souls ! they perish’d.
Had I been any god of power, I would
Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er
It should the good ship so have swallowed, and
The freighting souls within her.

Be collected ;
No more amazement: tell your piteous heart,
There's no harm done.

O, woe the day!

No harm.
I have done nothing but in care of thee,
(Of thee, my dear one! thee, my daughter !) who
Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing
Of whence I am ; nor that I am more better
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
And thy no greater father.

More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.

'Tis time
I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magic garment from me.—So; (Lays down his mantle
Lie there my art.-Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.
The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd
The very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such provision in mine art
So safely order'd, that there is no soul-
No, not so much perdition as a. hair,
Betid to any creature in the vessel
Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink.—Sit down;
For thou must now know further.

You have often Begun to tell me what I am ; but stopp’d

And left me to a bootless inquisition ;
Concluding, Stay, not yet.-

The liour's now come ;
The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
Obey, and be attentive. Can'st thou remember
A time before we came unto this cell ?
I do not think thou can'st; for then thou wast not
Out three


old. Mira.

Certainly, sir, I can.
Pro. By what? by any other house, or person ?
Of any thing the image tell me, that
Hath kept with thy remembrance.

'Tis far off:
And rather like a dream than an assurance
That my remembrance warrants : Had I not
Four or five women once, that tended me ?

Pro. Thou had'st, and more, Miranda : But how is it,
That this lives in thy mind ? What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time?
If thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam’st here,
How thou cam’st here, thou may'st.

But that I do not.
Pro. Twelve years since, Miranda, twelve years since
Thy father was the duke of Milan, and
A prince of power.

Sir, are not you my father?
Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
She said—thou wast my daughter; and thy father
Was duke of Milan; and his only heir
A princess, no worse issued.

0, the heavens !
What foul play had we, that we came from thence;
Or blessed was't, we did ?

Bcth, both, my girl;
By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heav'd thence;
But blessedly holp hither.

O, my heart bleeds
To think o' the teen* that I have turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance! Please you, further.

Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call’d Antonio,I

pray thee, mark me,—that a brother should
Be so perfidious !-he whom, next thyself,
Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put

of my state ; as, at that time,
Through all the signories it was the first,
And Prospero the prime duke; being so reputed
In dignity, and, for the liberal arts,
Without a parallel : those being all

my study,

* Sorrow

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