Oth. Avdunt! Be gone! Thou'st set me on the rack. Better, unknowing, to be much abus'd, Than but to doubt the least. Iago. How my Lord ? Rage Pretended furprise. Oth. What sense had I of her unfaithfulness? Regret for I thought not of it; felt no injury; I slept untroubled; I wak'd free and cheerful. Iago. Is't possible, my Lord, you should be Oth. Villain! Be sure thou prove my love a Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul, 'Twere better for thee to have been born a dog. Than answer my wak'd wrath. loft repose. Grief. Anguish. Pretended furprise. Rage. Threat'ning Iago. Is it come to this! Good Heav'n defend Surprise and me! Are you a man? Have you a soul, or sense? vexation. Reproof of ingratitude. Self-accufe. * O monstrous world! What times are we fall'n *Aftonifhupon? To be direct and honest, is not safe. I thank you for this profit, and henceforth ient. Pretended I'll love no friend; since love breeds such offence. reproof of [Going.] ingratitude. Recollectio. Oth. Nay stay-thou should'st be honest. That loses what it works for. Oth. In my anguish I think my wife is honest, and think she is not. (1) "Her name," that is, her character, or reputation, Pretended fenfe of Injury. Apology. *Regret. Fury. Pretended concern. Anxiety Pretended As Dian's (1) visage, is now begrim'd and black Oth. Give me a living reason she's disloyal. reluctance. But since I'm enter'd in this cause so far, I must go on, or bear the name of slanderer. Narration. I lay in the same room with Cassio lately, And being troubled with a raging tooth, Explaining. I could not sleep. There is a kind of men, Caution. Rage. Fury. Hypocriti calfoothing So loose of soul, that in their sleep, will mutter Iag. Nay; but be calm. This may be noth- She may be honest still. But tell me this, Question. Have you not sometimes seen a hundkerchief Spotted with strawberries, in your wife's hand? Oth. I gave her such a one. 'Twas my first Alarm. Accufing. Desperation Boundless fury. gift. Iag. That I knew not. But such a handker- (I'm sure, it was the same) did I to-day Oth. O that the slave had twenty thousand One is too poor too weak for my revenge. Oth. O blood, blood, blood! Hot, reeking blood shall wash the pois'nous stain, (1) "Dian's vifage." Diana is represented in the heathen mythology, as a goddess of extraordinary purity. Which fouls mine honour. From this hour, my thoughts Shall ne'er look back, nor ebb to humble love, Equal to their gross guilt, swallows them up, Iag. As you will, Šir. Horror. Revenge. Gratitude. LXXIV. CRAFT. FOOLISH FEAR. VEXA TION. MASCARILLE, a crafty servant, in the interest of LEAN- Anselm. WHAT, my good friend Pandolph Surprife. dead! Mascarille. I don't wonder the news surprises Concern. you. Ans. To die so very suddenly! Surprife. Masc. It is a very hurrying way of doing Concern. things, to be sure. But who can make people live, you know, if they will die? Grief. Ans. But how does your young master take it? Question. Masc. Take it! why worse than he would a whimsical. kicking. He welters on the ground like a wounded adder, and says he will absolutely go into the same grave with his dear papa. If it were not that they who take on so violently, do not, for the most part, hold it long, I should expect him to go quite compompous about it.-But-a-you must know, Sir, that we are all in a pucker at Apology, Asking a favour. Anxiety. Anxiety. Alarm. Courage, our house. The old gentleman must be buried, you know, and that requires some of the ready. And my young master, if he were in his best wits, knows no more than a broomstick, where to find a penny of money. For you know, the old one, rest his soul, kept all that same as snug as if he had thought the daylight would melt it. Now, Sir, you would do us a great kindness if you will be so good as to help us with a score or two of pieces, till we can turn ourselves round a little. Ans. Hum-[Aside.] He will have a good Avarice. estate. And will not grudge to pay handsome Refolution. interest. [To Masc.] I will come to him immediately, and bring the money with me; and try to comfort him a little. [He goes. Gives the money. Is deceived by an artificial corps laid out on the bed. Returns full of anxiety.] Lawkaday! what a sad thing this is. He was but sixty-eight, or sixty-nine; about the same age with myself. It frightens me to think of it. Suppose I should die suddenly too. I believe I had better think of repenting, and making my peace. It is true, he was a little asthmatic, and, thank God, no body has better lungs-hem-hem-hem than myself. Well, but I must go, and send neighbour Cloak'um, the undertaker, as I promised. [Going, he meets the supposed dead man, who had been stopped on his way to his country-house, by persons, who informed him of the falsehood of the reports which had occasioned his setting out.] Ah! mercy on my soul! What is that! My old friend's ghost! They say, none but wicked folks walk. I wish I were at the bottom of a coal-pit! Law! How pale, and how long his face is grown since his death. He never was handsome. And death has improvIntreating. ed him very much the wrong way.-Pray, do not come near me. I wished you very well when you was alive. But I could never abide a dead Trembling. man cheek by jowl with me. Rest your soul! Terror. Rest your soul, I pray! Vanish, vanish, in the Trembling. name of Pandolph. What the plague is the matter, old friend! Are you gone out of your wits. I came to ask your advice; but Wonder. Ans. Tell me, then, pray, without coming a Intreating. step nearer, what you would have me do for the cused you repose of your soul. Ah, eh, eh, eh, mercy on us! Trembling. no nearer pray! If it be only to take your leave of me, that you are come back, I could have exthe ceremony with all my heart. [Pandolph comes nearer, to convince Anselm, that he is not dead. He draws back, as the other advances.] Or if you-mercy on us--no near- Intreating. er, prayor if you have wronged any body, as you always loved money a little, I give the word of a frightened christian, I will pray as long as you please, for the deliverance and repose of your departed soul. My good, worthy, Perfuading. noble friend, do, pray disappear, as ever you would wish your old friend Anselm, to come to his senses again. Mirth. Pand. [laughing.] If I were not most confoundedly out of humour, I could be diverted to a pitch. But prithee now, old friend, what is in Remonftra. the wind, that you will have me to be dead? This is some contrivance of that rogue Masca- Sufpicion. rille, I guess by what I have just found out of his tricks. Ans. Ah, you are dead, too sure. Did not I see your corpse laid out upon your own bed, and Fear. Pand. What the deuce! I am dead, and Remonftra. know nothing of it! But, don't you see that I am not dead? Ans. You are clothed with a body of air, which resembles your own person, when you was alive only you'll excuse me a good deal plainer. But, pray, now, don't assume a figure more frightful. I am within a hair's breadth of W Fear. Intreaty. |