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but I tell you, my lord Fool, out of this nettle danger,
we plack this flower safely. 6 The purpose you under-
take is dangerous; the friends you have named uncer-
tain; the time itself unsorted ; and your whole plot too
light for the counterpoise of so great an opposition.".
Say you so, say you so ? I say unto you again, you are
a shallow, cowardly hind, and you lie.' What a lackbrain
is this ! Our plot is a good plot as ever was laid ; our
friends true and constant; a good plot; good friends,
and full of expectation; an excellent plot, very good
friends. What a frosty spirited rogue is this! Why, my
Jord ut York commands the plot, aud the general course
of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this ras-
cal, I could braio him with his lady's fan. Is there not
my father, my uncle and myself Lord Edmund Mor-
timer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower : Is there
not, besides, the Douglass. Have I not all their letters
to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month ?
And are there not soine of them set forward already?
What a Pagan rascal is this! An infidel !-Ha! You
shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart,
will he to the king, and lay open all our proceedings.
0! I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for muv-
ing such a dish of skimmed milk with so honorable an
action. Hang bim! Let him tell the king. We are
prepared. I will set forward to night.
VIII.-Othello's Apology for his Mrriage..
TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO.
MOST potent, grave and reverend seigniors :
My very noble and approv'd god mas ers:
Thit I have ta'en a way this old man's daughter,
It is 1. ost true ; true, I have married her:
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this exrent ; no more. Rude am 1 in speech
And little bless'd with the et phrase of peace:
Fir since these arms of mine hari seen years' pith,
Till now, son e nine moons wasted, they have us'd
'Their dearest action, in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broils and battle ;
And therefore, little shall I grace my cause,
In speaking of myself. Yet by your patience,
I will a round unvainish'd tale deliver,
Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,
What conjuration, and what mighty magic
(For such proceedings I am charg'd withall)
I won his daughter with.
Her father lov'd me ; oft invited me ;
Still question'd me the story of iry life
Froni year to year: the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I had past.
I ran it through, e'en from my boyish dars
To the very moment that he bade me telt it,
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances
Of moving accidents by fled and fied;
Of hairbreadth 'scapes in th’imminent deadly breach ;
Or being taken lix the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery ; ofiny redemption thence,
And with it all my travel's history:
-All these to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline;
But still the house affairs would draw her thence;
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse. Which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate ;
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not distinctly. I did consent ;
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs,
She swore in faith, 'twas strange, 't was passing strange ;
*Twas pitiful; 'twas wond'rous pitiful ;
She wish'd she had not heard it ; yet she wish'd
That hearen had made her such a man. She thank'd me
And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo hcr. On this hint I spake;
She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd;
And I lov'd her, that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft which I've us'd.
X-Henry IV's Soliloquy on Sleep.-SHAKESPEARE.
HOW many thousand of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep! gentle sleep!
Nature's soft nurse ! how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hush'd with buzzing night flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody? O thou dull god! Why liest thou with the vile, In loathsome beds, and leav'st a kingly couch, A watchcase to a common larụm beli? Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast, Seal up the shipboy's eyes and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge, And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the tops, Curling their monstrouş heads, and hanging them With deafʼning clamors in the slipp'ry shrouds, That with the hurly, death itself awakes ; Canst thon, ( partial sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea boy in an hour so rude, And in the calmest and the stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king. Then happy, lowly clown. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. X.-Captain Boladil's Method of defeating an Army.
EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOR, I WILL tell you, sir, by the way of private and uns der seal, I am a gentleman; and live here obscure, and to myself ; but were I known to his Majesty and the Lurds, observe me, I would undertake, upon this poor head and live, for the public benefit of the state, not only to spare the entire lives of his subjects in general, but to save the one half, nay three fourths of his gearly charge in holding war, and against what enemy soever. And how would I do it, think you ? Why thus, Sir. I would select nineteen more to myself, throughout the land : gentlemen they should be ; of good spirit, strong and able constitution. I would choose them by an iu. stinct that I have. And I would teach these nineteen the special rules; as your Punto, your Reverso, your Stoecata, your Inbrocata, your Passada, your Monton. to ; till they could all play very near, or altogether, as well as myself. This done ; say the enemy were forty,
thousand suong. We twenty would come into the field the tenth of March, or thereabouts, and we would chai. lenge twenty of the enemy ; they could not, in their honr. or, refuge us. Well-we would kill them; challenge
twenty more-kill them; twenty more-kill them ;
twenty more-kill them too. And thus, would we
kill every man, his ten a day-that's ten score : Ten
score-that's two hundred ; two hundred a day-five
days, a thousand :Forty thousand-forty times five--five
times forty-two hundred days kill them all up by com-
putation. And this I will venture my poor gentleman-
like carcase to perform (provided there be no treason
practised upon us) by fair and discreet manhood ; that
is, civilly-by the sword.
*1.-Soliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle, on the Murder of his
Brother._TRAGEDY OF HAMLET.
OH! my offence is rank ; it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal. eldest curse upon it!
A brother's murder ! -Pray I cannot,
Thouglı inclination be as sharp as 't will
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
And like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin
Anil both neglect. What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
But to confront the visage of offence ?
And whai's in prayer, but this twofold forces
To be forestalled ére we come ti fall
Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up.
My fault is past. But, Oh! What form of prayer
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my fiul murder,
That cannot be, since 1 an still possess'd
(): those effects for which lid the murder
M: crown, iny own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardoned, and retain th' offence
In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offence's gilded han: may shove by justice :
And oft ’tis seen, the wicked prize itseif
Buys out the laws. But 'sis not so above,
There is no shuffling here the action lies
In its true nature, and we ourselves.compell'd
E'en to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? Whai rests?
Try what repentance cana, What can ir ne?
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent ?
Oh, wretched state ! Oh, bosom black as leath!
Oh, limited soul that struggling to be free.
Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay
Bow, stubborn knees--and heart with strings of steel,-
Be soft, as sinews of the new born babe!
All inay be well.
XII.-Soliloquy of Hamlet on Death.-B.
TO be or not to be that is the
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The fings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of trouble ;
And, by opposing end them? To dieto sleep
No more and, by a sleep, to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That fesh is heir to. - 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die-to sleep-
To sleep, perchance to dream-ay, there's the rub-
For, in that sleep of death, what dreams may come;
When we have shuffed off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.
- There's the respect,
That makes calamity of so long life;
For, who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’oppressor's wrong, the prond man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love the law's delay-
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes-
When he hin selt might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear;
To groan and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
(That undiscover'd country, from whose boura
No traveller returns) puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of ?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all ;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn away,
And lose the name of aetion.
XIII.-Falstaff's Encomium on Sack_Henry. IV.
A GOOD sherris sack hath a twofold operation in it: It ascends me into the brain; dries me there, all the foolish, dull and crudy vapors which environ it; makes it apprehensive. quick, inventive ; full of nimble, fiery and delectable shapes; wbich delivered over to the roice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The second property of your excellent sherris, is the warming of the bloods which, before, cold and set