Hamlet. Such an act, That blurs the grace and blush of modesty; With tristful visage, as against the doom, Queen. Ah! me, what act, That roars so loud, and thunders in the index ? Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain: Is very cunning in. Hamlet. Ecstasy! My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time Hamlet. Be but to sleep, and feed? a beast, no more. That capability and godlike reason To fust in us unus'd.-Act. 4, Sc. 4. King. Poor Ophelia, Divided from herself, and her fair judgment; Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts.-Sc. 5. And from her fair and unpolluted flesh, May violets spring! Queen. Sweets to the sweet: Farewell! (Scattering flowers.) -Act 5, Sc. 1. Hamlet. Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach us, There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.-Sc. 2. Hamlet. Being thus benetted round with villainies, Hamlet. -Id. . Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me? If thou did'st ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, O! I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit; On Fortinbras; he has my dying voice; OTHELLO. (Dies.)-Id. Othello. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, The very head and front of my offending Her father lov'd me; oft invited me ; From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes, I ran it through, even from my boyish days, Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach. -Act 1, Sc. 3. Montano. But, good lieutenant, is your general wiv'd? Cassio. Most fortunately: he hath achiev'd a maid That paragons description, and wild fame; Iago. She that was ever fair and never proud; To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail ; Desdemona. To do what? Iago. To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer.-Id. Othello. Worthy Montano, you were wont to be civil The gravity and stillness of your youth The world hath noted, and your name is great In mouths of wisest censure; what's the matter, And spend your rich opinion, for the name Of a night brawler ?-Sc. 3. Othello. My blood begins my safer guides to rule, Or do but lift this arm, the best of you How this foul rout began, who set it on; Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth, I know, Iago, Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, (Exeunt all but IAGO and CASSIO.) Iago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant? Cassio. Ay, past all surgery. . . . Reputation, reputation, reputation! O! I have lost my reputation; I have lost the immortal part, sir, of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!-Id. Tago. Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; Robs me of that, which not enriches him, Iago. O! what damned minutes tells he o'er, Who dotes yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves. Iago. Poor and content, is rich, and rich enough; To him that ever fears he shall be poor: But I am much to blame; I humbly do beseech you of your pardon, Othello. I am bound to thee for ever. Iago. I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits. Iago. Trust me, I fear it has. I hope you will consider, what is spoke Comes from my love ;-But I do see you are mov'd :- To grosser issues, nor to larger reach, Than to suspicion. Othello. I had rather be a toad, And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, Than keep a corner in the thing I love, Iago. Trifles, light as air, The Moor already changes with my poison :- Burn like the mines of sulphur. (Enter OTHELLO.) Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandragora, Othello. To me? Ha ha! false to me? Iago. Why, how now, general? no more of that. Othello. Avaunt! begone! thou hast set me on the rack :I swear, 'tis better to be much abus'd, Than but to know a little. O! now, for ever, Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! Othello. O the world hath not a sweeter creature: she might lie by an emperor's side, and command him tasks. Iago. Nay, that's not your way. Othello. Hang her! I do but say what she is :-so delicate with her needle!-an admirable musician! O! she will sing the savageness out of a bear;-Of so high and plenteous wit and invention !— lago. She's the worse for all this. Othello. O a thousand, a thousand times; And then, of so gentle a condition! Iago. Ay, too gentle. Othello. Nay, that's certain; But yet the pity of it, Iago!O! Iago, the pity of it, Iago!-Act 4, Sc. 1. Othello... But there, where I have garner'd up my heart; |