Where virtue is, these make more virtuous. No, Iago, For fhe had eyes, and chofe me. Away at once with love or jealousy. IAGO. I'm glad of this; for now I fhall have reason To fhew the love and duty that I bear you Therefore, as I'm bound, With franker fpirit. I speak not yet of proof. observe her well with Caffio; Receive it from me. Look to your wife, Wear your eye, thus; not jealous, nor fecure ; I know our country-difpofition well; In Venice they do let Heav'n fee the pranks Oтн. Doft thou fay fo? IAGO. She did deceive her father, marrying you; And when the feem'd to shake, and fear your looks, She lov'd them moft. She, that, fo young, could give out such a seeming To feal her father's eyes up, clofe 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. OTн. I am bound to you for ever. IAGO. I fee this hath a little dash'd your fpirits. IAGO. Trust me, I fear it has : I hope you will confider what is spoke Comes from my love. But I do see you're mov’d-➡ I am to pray you, not to strain my fpeech To groffer iffues, not to larger reach, Than to fufpicion. ОTH. I will not.. IAGO. Should you do fo, my Lord,.. My speech would fall into fuch vile fuccefs, Which my thoughts aim not at. My Lord, I fee you're mov'd Oтн. No, not much mov'd Caffio's my worthy friend I do not think, but Desdemona's honest.. IAGO. Long live she fo! and long live you to think so! Of her own clime, complexion, and degree, Oтн. Farewel, farewel; If more thou doft perceive, let me know more: Set on thy wife t' obferve. Leave me, Iago.. IAGO. My Lord, I take my leave. ОTн. Why did I marry? This honeft creature, doubtlefs, Sees, Sees, and knows more, much more, than he unfolds. IAGO. My Lord, I would I might intreat 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 ftrong or vehement importunity; Much will be feen 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 Отн. Fear not my government. IAGO. I once more take my leave. Honour. SHAKESPEAR. CHA P. XXVIII. HAMLET's SOLILOQUY ON HIS MOTHER's MARRIAGE. O H that this too too folid flesh would melt, Thaw, and refolve itself into adew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! 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, But two months dead! nay, not fo much; not two:- Hyperion Hyperion to a fatyr: so loving to my mother, By what it fed on; yet, within a month,- Frailty, thy name is Woman!. A little month! or ere those shoes were old, With which she follow'd my poor father's body,. (O Heav'n! a beast that wants discourse of reason, Ere yet the falt of moft unrighteous tears. She married. Oh, moft wicked speed, to poft. But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue. HAM. NGELS and ministers of grace defend us! A Be thou a fpirit of health, or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heav'n, or blasts from hell, Thou com'ft in fuch a queftionable shape, That I will speak to thee.. I'll call thee Hamlet, Let Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell, Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearfed in earth, Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws, With thoughts beyond the reaches of our fouls? HAM. I will. GHOST. My hour is almoft come, 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 faft in fire; Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature, Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid I could a tale unfold, whofe lightest word Would harrow up thy foul, freeze thy young blood, Thy |