Where virtue is, these make more virtuous. IAGO. I'm glad of this; for now I fhall have reason In Venice they do let Heav'n fee the pranks OTH. Doft thou fay fo? IAGO. She did deceive her father, marrying you; And when she feem'd to shake, and fear your looks, OTH. And fa fhe did. IAGO. Go to then; She, that, fo young, could give out fuch a feeming To feal her father's eyes up, close 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. Отн. I am bound to you for ever. IAGO. I fee this hath a little dash'd your spirits. OTH, Not a jot, not a jot. IAGO. Trust me, I fear it has: I hope you will confider what is spoke Comes from my love. But I do fee you're mov'd I am to pray you, not to ftrain my speech To groffer iffues, not to larger reach, Then to fufpicion. OTH. I will not. IAGO. Should you do fo, my Lord, My fpeech would fall into fuch vile fuccefs, Calio's my worthy friend. OTH. No, not much mov'd-- I do not think but Desdemona's honest. IAGO. Long live the fo! and long live you to think fo! Oтн. And yet, how nature's erring from itself→→→→→→ IAGO. Ay, there's the point!-as (to be bold with you) Not to affect many propofed matches Of her own clime, complexion, and degree, Отн. Farewel, farewel; If more thou doft perceive, let me know more: IAGO. My Lord, I take my leave. Oтн. 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 Honour. СНАР. SHAKSPEARE.. XXVIII. HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY ON HIS MOTHER's MARRIAGE. H that this too too folid flesh would melt, Thaw, and refolve itfelf into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst felf-flaughter! 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, Hyperion Hyperion to a fatyr: fo loving to my mother, By what it fed on; yet within a month, Let me not think-Frailty, thy name is Woman! But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue. HAMLET AND GHOST. HAM. ANGELS and minifters of grace defend us! Be thou a fpirit of health, or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heav'n, or blafts from hell, Thou com'ft in fuch a questionable shape, That I will fpeak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet, Let Let me not burit 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 almost come, When I to fulphurous and tormenting flames Maft render up myself. HAM. Alas, poor ghost! GHOST. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing. To what I fhall unfold. HAM. Speak, I am bound to hear. GHOST. So art thou to revenge when thou fhalt 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 fast in fire: Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature, I could a tale unfold, whofe lightest word Would harrow up thy foul, freeze thy young blood, |