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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 movid
I am to pray you, not to strain my speech
To groffer issues, nor to larger reach,
Than to suspicion.

Orh. I will not.
LAGO. Should

you do fo, my lord,
My speech would fall into such vile success,
Which my thoughts aim not at. Caffio's my worthy friend,
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 the fo! and long live you to think so!
Oth. And yet, how nature's erring from itself-

Iago. Ay, there's the point !-as (to be bold with you)
Not to effect many propoled matches
Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,
Whereto we see in all things nature tends :
Foh! one may smell, 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.

Orh. Farewel, farewel;
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more :
Set on thy wife t'observe. Leave me, lago.

IAGO. My Lord, I take my leave.

Oth. Why did I marry! This honeft creature, doubtless,

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Sees, and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.

Iaco. My Lord, I would I might intreat your Honour To scan this thing no further ; leave it to time : Altho' 'tis fit that Callio 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 entertaiment 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.
Orh. Fear not my government.
IAGO. I once more take my leave.

SHAKSPEARS,

CHAP. XXVIII.

HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY ON HIS MOTHER'S

MARRIAGE.
Oh that this too too folid Aelh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itfelf into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His cannon 'gainst self laughter!
How weary, ftale, flat, and unprofitable,
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't; oh fie ! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to feed; things rank, and gross in nature,
Possess it merely. That it should come to this !
But two months dead ! nay, not so much; not two:
So excellent a king, that was, to this,
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Hyperion to a satyr ; fo loving to my mother,
That he permitted not the winds of heav'n
Visit her face too roughly. Heav'n and earth!
Muft I remember! Why she would hang on him,
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 the follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears -Why, she, even she
(O Heav'n! a bealt that wants discourse of reason,
Would have mourn'd longer-) married with mine uncle,
My father's brother; but no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules. Within a month !
Ere yet the falt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the Aufhing in her galled eyes,
She married Oh, moft 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.

SHAKSPEAAB

CHAP. XXIX.

HAMLET AND GHOST.

Ham. ANGE

NGELS 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'it in fach a questionable shape, That I will fpeak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet, King, Father, Royal Dane : Oh! anfwer mic;

Iet

Let me not burst in ignorance ; but tell,
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in earth,
Have burft their cearments ? why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again? What may this mean?
That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, '
Revifit't thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous, and us fools of nature
So horribly to Make our disposition :
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our fouls
Say, why is this ? wherefore? what should we do?

Ghost, Mark mę.
HAM. I will. :

GHOST. My hour is almost come,
When I to fulphurous and tormenting dames
Mult render up myself.

Ham. Alas, poor ghoft!

Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.,

HAM. Speak, I am bound to hear.
Ghost. So thou art to revenge when thou shalt hear.
HAM. What??

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit ;
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
And for the day, confin’d to faft in fires :
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 blood,
Make thy two eyes, like ftars, start from their spheres,
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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. Lift, list, oh list!
If thou did'st ever thy dear father love-

Ham. O heav'n!
Ghost.: Revenge his foul, and most unnatural murther.
HAM, Murther !

Ghost. Murther moft foul, as in the best it is ;
But this most foul, ftrange, and unnatural.

Ham. Hafte 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'At 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 given out, that, sleeping in my orchard,
A serpent ftung 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 fting thy father's life,
Now wears his crown.

Ham. Oh, my prophetic foul ! my uncle !

Ghost. Ay, that inceftuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of his wit, with trait'rous gifts,
(O wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power
So to seduce !) won to his shameful luft
The will of my most seeming virtuous Queen.
Oh, Hamlet, what a falling off was there !
But foft! methinks I scent the morning air-

Brief

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