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Wear your eye thus; not jealous, nor fecure!
I would not have your free and noble nature
Out of self-bounty be abus'd; look to't.
I know our country difpofition well;

In Venice they do let Heav'n fee the pranks
They dare not fhow their husbands.

Oтн. Doft thou fay fo?

IAGO. She did deceive her father, marrying you; And when the feem'd to shake, and fear your looks, She lov'd them most.

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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 befech 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 fpirits.

OTH. Not a jot; not a jot.

IAGO. Trust me, I fear it has:

I hope you will confider what is fpoke

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, nor to larger reach,

Than to fufpicion.

OTH. I will not.

IAGO. Should you do fo, my Lord,

My fpeech would fall into fuch vile fuccefs,

Which my thoughts aim not at. Caffio's my worthy friend. My Lord, I fee you're mov'd

Oтн. No, not much mov'd

I do not think but Dedemona's honeft.

IAGO. Long live the fo! and long live you to think fo! Отн. 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,
Whereto we fee in all things Nature tends:
Foh! one may fmell, in fuch, a will most rank,
Foul difproportions, thoughts unnatural.
But, pardon me, I do not in pofition

Diftinctly 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, fo repent.

Oтн. Farewell, farewell;

If more thou doft perceive, let me know more:
Set on thy wife t' obferve. Leave me, lago.
IAGO: My Lord, I take my leave.
OтH. Why did I marry?

This honeft creature, doubtless,

Sees, and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
IAGO. My Lord, I would I might intreat your Honour
To fcan this thing no further; leave it to time:
Although 'tis fit that Caffio have his place,
For, fure, 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 entertainment
With any ftrong or vehement importunity:
Much will be feen 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 befeech your
ОTH. Fear not my government.
IAGO. I once more take my

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OH that this too, too folid flesh would melt,

Thaw and refolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlafting 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,
Poffefs it merely. That it should come to this!
But two months dead! nay, not fo much; not two ;-
So excellent a king, that was, to this,

Hyperion to a fatyr: 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 increafe of appetite had grown

By what it fed on; yet, within a month,

Let me not think

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-Frailty, thy name is Woman!

A little month! or ere thofe fhoes were old,
With which the followed my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears- Why, fhe, ev'n fhe-
(O Heav'n! a beaft, that wants difcourfe 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 moft unrighteous tears
Had left the flufhing in her galled eyes,
She married O, moft wicked fpeed, to poft
With fuch dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.

But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.




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,
Be thy intent wicked or charitable,

Thou com'ft in fuch a queftionable shape,

That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet,
King, Father, Royal Dane! oh! anfwer me!
Let me not burft in ignorance; but tell,
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in earth,
Have barft their cerements! why the fepulchre,
Wherein we faw thee quietly inurn'd,

Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To caft thee up again? What may this mean?
That thou, dead corfe, again in complete fteel,
Revifit'ft thus the glimpfes of the moon,
Making night hidious, and us fools of nature.
So horribly to shake our difpofition

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our fouls?
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?
GHOST. Mark me.

HAM. I will.

GHOST. My hour is almoft come,

When I to fulph'rous and tormenting flames

Moft render up myself.

HAM. Alas! poor ghost!

GHOST. Fity me not, but lend thy ferious hearing

To what I fhall unfold.

HAM. Speak, I am bound to hear.

GHOST. So art thou to revenge when thou shalt 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 faft in fire,

Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid
To tell the fecrets of my prifon-house,

I could a tale unfold, whofe lightest word

Would harrow up thy foul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
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, lift, oh lift!
If thou did't ever thy dear father love

HAM. O Heav'n!

GHOST. Revenge his foul and moft unnat'ral murder!

HAM. Murder?.

GHOST. Murder most foul, as in the beft it is;

But this moft foul, strange, 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't thou be, than the fat weed

That roots itself in ease on Lethe's wharf,

Would't thou not ftir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear;

'Tis giv'n out, that, fleeping in my orchard,
A ferpent ftung me. So the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged procefs of my death

Rankly abus'd but know, thou noble youth,


The ferpent that did fting thy father's life

Now wears his crown.



O my prophetic foul! my uncle?
Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of his wit, with trait'rous gifts,

(O wicked

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