Elegant Extracts

Thy bones are marrowlefs, thy blood is cold;
Thou haft no fpeculation in thofe eyes,
Which thou doft glare with!

Lady. Think of this, good peers,
But as a thing of cuftom: 'Tis no other;
Only it fpoils the pleasure of the time.

Macb. What man dare, I dare:
Approach thou like the rugged Ruffian bear,
The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger;
Take any fhape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble: or, be alive again,
And dare me to the defert with thy fword;
If trembling I inhibit thee, proteft me
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!
Unreal mockery, hence! Why, fo-being gone,
[The Ghof vanishes.
I am a man again.-Pray you, fit ftill.
[The Lords rife.
Lady. You have difplac'd the mirth, broke the
good meeting

With most admir'd diforder.

Macb. Can fuch things be,

And overcome us like a fummer's cloud,
Without our special wonder? You make me ftrange
Even to the difpofition that I owe,
When now I think you can behold fuch fights,
And keep the natural ruby of
your cheeks,
When mine are blanch'd with fear.

Roffe. What fights, my lord?
Lady. I pray you, speak not; he grows worfe
and worfe;

Question enrages him: at once, good night:
Stand not upon the order of your geing,
But go at once.

Len. Good night, and better health
Attend his majesty!

Lady. A kind good night to all! [Exeunt Lords.
Macb. It will have blood, they fay; blood will

have blood:

Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak;
Augurs, and understood relations, have
By magpies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth
The fecret'ft man of blood.

Witches, their Power.

I conjure you, by that which you profess,
(Howe'er you come to know it) anfwer me:
Though you untie the winds, and let them fight|
Against the churches; though the yefty waves
Confound and swallow navigation up; [down;
Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown
Though caftles topple on their warders heads;
Though palaces, and pyramids, do flope
Their heads to their foundations; though the trea-
Of nature's germins tumble altogether,
Even till deftruction ficken, answer me
To what I ask you,

[fure

Malcolm's Character of himself.

Mal. But I have none; the king-becoming

graces,

As justice, verity, temperance, ftableness,
Bounty, perfeverance, mercy, lowlinefs,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relifh of them; but abound
dn the divifion of each feveral crime,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I pow'r, I should
Pour the fweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the univerfal peace, confound
All unity on earth.

Macd. O Scotland! Scotland!

Mal. If fuch a one be fit to govern, speak; I am as I have spoken.

Macd. Fit to govern!

No, not to live.-O nation miferable,
With an untitled tyrant, bloody-fceptred,

When fhalt thou fee thy wholefome days again?
Since that the trucft iffue of thy throne
By his own interdiction ftands accurft,
And does blafpheme his breed? Thy royal father.
Was a moft fainted king; the queen, that bore thee,
Oft'ner upon her knees than on her feet,
Died ev'ry day the liv'd.
Thefe evils thou repeat'ft upon thyfelf,
Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,
Thy hope ends here!

Fare thee well!

Mal. Macduff, this noble paffion,
Child of integrity, hath from my foul
Wip'd the black fcruples, reconcil'd my thoughts
To thy good truth and honour. Devilith Macbeth
By many of these trains hath fought to win me
Into his pow'r; and modeft wifdom plucks me

From over-credulous hafte: but God above
Deal between thee and me! for even now

I put myself to thy direction, and
Unfpeak mine own detraction; here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
For ftrangers to my nature. I am yet
Unknown to woman; never was forfworn;
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own;
At no time broke my faith; would not betray
The devil to his fellow; and delight
No lefs in truth than life; my firft falfe-speaking.
Was this upon myself. What I am truly,
Is thine, and my poor country's, to command.
An oppreffed Country.

That would be howl'd out in the defert air, Where hearing fhould not latch them.

Macd. What concern they?

The general caufe? or is it a fee-grief,
Due to fome fingle breaft?

Roffe. No mind that 's honeft

But in it shares fome woe; tho' the main part Pertains to you alone.

Macd. If it be mine,

Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. Roffe. Let not your ears defpife my tongue for

ever,

Which shall poffefs them with the heaviest found, That ever yet they heard.

Macd. Humph! I guess at it. [babes Roffe. Your caftle is furpris'd; your wife and Savagely flaughter'd; to relate the manner, Were, on the quarry of thefe murder'd deer, To add the death of you.

Mal. Merciful Heaven!—

What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give forrow words: the grief that does not speak, Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. Macd. My children too?

Roffe. Wife, children, fervants, all that could

ones ?

Did you fay all what, all? O hell-kite! all?
What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,
At one fell fwoop?

Mal. Difpute it like a man.
Macd. I fhall do fo;

But I must alfo feel it as a man:

I cannot but remember fuch things were,
That were moft precious to me. Did Heaven
look on,

And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,
They were all ftruck for thee! Naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Fell flaughter on their fouls: heaven reft them
now!

Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword; let
grief

Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,

And braggart with mytongue! But, gentle Heaven,
Cut fhort all intermiffion; front to front
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself;
Within my fword's length fet him; if he 'scape,
Heaven forgive him too!

Mal. This tune goes manly.
Come, go we to the king; our pow'r is ready;
Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth
Is ripe for fhaking, and the powers above
Put on their inftruments. Receive what cheer

Defpifed Old Age.

I have liv'd long enough: my way of lifeIs fall'n into the fear, the yellow leaf: And that which fhould accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have: but in their stead, Curfes, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and darę

not.

Difeafes of the Mind incurable.

Canft thou not minifter to a mind difcas'd; Pluck from the memory a rooted forrow; Raze out the written troubles of the brain; And, with fome fweet oblivious antidote, Cleanfe the stuff'd bofom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart ?

Reflections on Life.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the laft fyllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dufty death. Out, out, brief candle Life's but a walking fhadow; a poor player, That ftruts and frees his hour upon the ftage, And then is heard no more: it is a tale, Told by an ideor, full of found and fury, Signifying nothing.

§ 30. OTHELLO.

'TIS

Preferment.

SHAKSPEARE.

IS the curfe of service; Preferment goes by letter and affection, Not by the old gradation, where each fecond Stood heir to the firft.

In difpraife of Honefly.

We cannot all be mafters, nor all masters Cannot be truly follow'd. You fhall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, That, doting on his own obfequious bondage, Wears out his time, much like his mafter's afs, For nought but provender; and, when he 's old, cashier'd:

Whip me fuch honeft knaves. Others there are, Who, trimm'd in forms and vifages of duty, Keep yet their hearts attending on themfelves; And, throwing but fhows of fervice on their lords, Do well thrive by them; and, when they havelin'd

their coats,

Do themfelves homage: these fellows have fome foul,

And fuch a one do I profess myself.
For, Sir,

It is as fure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But feeming fo, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my fleeve,
For doves to peck at: I am not what I feem.

Love the fole Motive of Othello's marrying.
For know, Iago,

But that I love the gentle Defdeinona,
I would not my unhoufed free condition
Put into circumfcription and confine,
For the fea's worth.

Othello's Relation of bis Courtship to the Senate.
Moft potent, grave, and reverend figniors,
My very noble and approv'd good masters-
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true; true, I have married her;
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent, no more. Rude an I in my
fpeech,

And little bleft with the fet phrafe of peace;
For fince these arms of mine had feven years pith,
Till now, fome 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 broil and battle;
And therefore little fhall I grace my cause,
In fpeaking for my felf: Yet by your gracious pa-

tience,

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver,

Of my whole courfe of love; what drugs, what
charms,

What conjuration, and what mighty magic,
(For fuch proceeding I am charg'd withal)
I won his daughter with.
Her father

me;

Lov'd oft invited me; ftill queftion'd me
The ftory of my life, from year to year ;
The battles, fieges, fortunes, that I have pafs'd.
I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it,
Wherein I fpake of moft difaftrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field;
Of hair-breadth 'fcapes i' the imminent deadly
breach;

Of being taken by the infolent foe,

And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
I should but teach him how to tell my ftory,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
She lov'd me for the dangers I had pafs'd;
And I lov'd her, that she did pity them.
Perfect Content.

O my foul's joy !
If after ev'ry tempeft come fuch calms,
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death.
And let the labouring bark climb hills of feas
Olympus high; and duck again as low
As hell 's from heaven! If I were now to die,
'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,
My foul hath her content to abfolute,
That not another comfort like to this

Succeeds in unknown fate.

A Lover's Exclamation.

Excellent wretch! perdition catch my foul, But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.

Othello's faft Sufpicion.

Think, my lord! by Heaven he echoes me,
As if there were fome monfter in his thought
Too hideous to be fhewn.-Thou doft mean fome-
thing;

I heard thee fay but now-thou lik'ft not that
When Caffio left my wife; what didst not like?
And when I told thee-he was of my counfel,
In my whole courfe of wooing: thou criedft,
"Indeed!"

And didft contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadft fhut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit: if thou doft love me,
Shew me thy thought.

Iag. My lord, you know I love you.
Oth. I think thou doft;

And for I know thou 'rt full of love and honefty,
And weight thy words before thou giv'st them
breath-

And fold to flavery; of my redemption thence; Therefore, thefe ftops of thine fright me the more:

And

portance in my travel's history.

These things to hear

Would Defdemona feriously incline:

But ftill the houfe affairs would draw her thence;
Which ever as the could with hafte dispatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my difcourfe: which I obferving,
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 the had fomething heard,
But not intentively: I did confent;
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did fpeak of fome diftressful stroke,
That my youth fuffer'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of fighs:
She wore-in faith, 'twas ftrange, 'twas paffing
ftrange;

'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful-
She with'd the had not heard it; yet the wifh'd
That Heaven had made her fuch a man:-fhe

thank'd me;

For fuch things in a falfe, difloyal knave
Are tricks of cuftom; but, in a man that 's juft,
They are clofe denotements working from the
That paflion cannot rule.

Reputation.

[heart,

And have not thofe foft parts of converfation
That chamberers have: or, for I am declin'd
Into the vale of years; yet that's not much-
She's gone; I am abus'd; and my relief
Muft be-to loath her. Ó curfe of marriage!
That we can call thefe delicate creatures ours,
And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
Than keep a corner in the thing I love
For others ufes.

Jealousy.
Trifles light as air

Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong

As proofs of holy writ.

The Tortures of Jealouly.

Enter Othello.

On horror's head horrors accumulate :
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd,
For nothing canst thou to damnation add,
Greater than that.

Iago. O grace! O Heaven defend me!
Are you a man? have you a foul, or sense?
God be wi'you: take mine office.-Owretched fool,
That liv'ft to make thine honefty a vice!
O monftrous world! take note, take note, O world,
To be direct and honeft, is not fafe.
I thank you for this profit; and, from hence,
I'll love no friend, fince love breeds fuch offence,
Otb. Nay, ftay-thou fhouldft be honest.
logo. I thould be wife; for honefty 's a fool,
And lofes that it works for.

Oth. By the world,

I think my wife be honeft, and think she is not ;
I think that thou art juft, and think thou art not;

Jago. Look where he comes not poppy, nor I'll have fome proof. My name, that was as fresh

mandragora,

Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to that fweet fleep
Which thou ow'dst yesterday.

Oth. Ha! ha! falfe to me? to me?

Iago. Why, how now, general? no more of that.
Oth. Avaunt! begone! thou haft fet me on the
rack:

I fwear 'tis better to be much abus'd,
Than but to know 't a little.

Iago. How now, my lord?

As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black
As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives,
Poifon, or fire, or fuffocating ftreams,
I'll not endure it.-Would I were fatisfied!
Othello's Story of the Handkerchief.
That handkerchief

Did an Egyptian to my mother give;
She was a charmer, and could almost read
The thoughts of people: fhe told her, while the
kept it,

Ob. What fenfe had I of her stolen hours of luft?'Twould make her amiable, and fubdue

I faw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me:
Iept the next night well, was free and merry;
I found not Callio's kiffes on her lips:
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen,
Let him not know it, and he's not robb'd at all.
Iago. I am forry to hear this.

Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp,
Pioneers and all, had tatted her fweet body,
So I had nothing known: O now, for ever,
Farewel the tranquil mind! Farewel content!
Farewel the plumed troop, and the big wars,
That make ambition virtue! O farewel!
Farewel the neighing fleed, and the fhrill trump,
The fpirit-ftirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner; and all quality,

Pride, pomp, and circumftance of glorious war!
And, O you mortal engines, whofe rude throats
Th' immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewel! Othello's occupation's gone!
lago. Is 't pollible, my lord?

Orb. Villain, be fure thou prove my love a
whore ;

Be fure of it; give me the ocular proof;
[Catching bold on bim.
Cr, by the worth of mine eternal foul,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog,
Than anfwer my wak'd wrath.

lago. Is it come to this?

Oib. Make me to fee it; or, at the leaft, fo prove it,
That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop,
To hang a doubt on: or, woe upon thy life!
Jago. My noble lord-

Oib. If thou doft flander her, and torture me,
Never pray more: abandon all remoríc

father

Entirely to her love; but if the loft it,
Or made a gift of it, my father's eye
Should hold her loathly, and his fpirits fhould hunt
After new fancies. She, dying, gave it me;
And bid me, when my ftate would have me wiv'd,
To give it her. I did fo; and take heed of 't,
Make it a darling, like your precious eye;
To lofe 't or give 't away, were fuch perdition,
As nothing elfe could match.-

-There's magic in the web of it:
A Sibyl, that had number'd in the world
The fun to make two hundred compaffes,
In her prophetic fury few'd the work:
The worms were hallow'd that did breed the filk
And it was dyed in mummy, which the skilful
Conferv'd of maidens' hearts.

A Lover's Computation of Time.
What! keep a week away? feven days and nights
Eight-fcore eight hours? and lovers abfent hours,
More tedious than the dial eight-fcore times?
O weary reckoning!

Othello's Sprech, after having received the Man

date when confirmed in bis Sufpicions.
Ay; you did with that I would make her turn:
Sir, the can turn, and turn, and yet go on,
And turn again; and the can weep, Sir, weep;
And the 's obedient, as you fay-obedient-
Very obedient-Proceed you in your tears.
Concerning this, Sir-O well painted paflion!-
I am commanded home :-get you away;
I'll fend for you anon.-Sir, I obey the mandate,
And will return to Venice-hence, avaunt!

LE. De

Impudent ftrumpet !

Caffio fhall have my place. And-Sir, to-night, | And will not hear it: what committed!
I do entreat that we may fup together.
You are welcome, Sir, to Cyprus-
Goats and monkies!

[Exit Othello.

His pathetic Upbraiding of his Wife.
Def. Upon my knees, what doth your fpeech
I understand a fury in your words, [import?
But not your words.

Otb. Why, what art thou?

Def. Your wife, my lord; your true and loyal wife.

Otb. Come, fwear it; damn thyself;

Left, being like one of heaven, the devils them-I
felves

Should fear to feize thee: therefore be double-
Swear thou art honeft.

Def. Heaven doth truly know it.

Otb. Heaven truly knows

That thou art falfe as hell.

Def. To whom, my lord?

With whom? How am I falfe?

[damn'd;

Otb. O, Desdemona, away! away away! Def. Alas the heavy day! why do you weep? Am I the occafion of thefe tears, my lord? If, haply, you my father do fufpect An inftrument of this your calling back,

Def. By Heaven, you do me wrong! Oib. Are not you a strumpet ? Def. No, as I am a Christian. If to preferve this veffel for my lord, From any other foul, unlawful touch, Be not to be a ftrumpet, I am none. Oth. What, not a whore ? Def. No, as I fhall be faved, Oth. Is it poffible?

Def. O Heaven forgive us! Oth. I cry you mercy, then; took you for that cunning whore of Venice, That married with Othello.

Defdemona's Faithfulness.

O good Iago,

What fhall I do to win my lord again?
Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven,
I know not how I loft him. Here I kneel-

[Kneeling..

If e'er my will did trefpafs 'gainst his love,
Either in difcourfe, or thought, or actual deed;
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any fenfe,
Delighted them in any other form;

Or that I do not yet, and ever did,
And ever will-though he do fhake me off

Lay not your blame on me; if you have loft him, To beggarly divorcement - love him dearly, Why, I have loft him too.

Orb. Had it pleas'd Heaven

To try me with affliction; had he rain'à

All kind of fores, and fhames, on my bare head;
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips;
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes;
I fhould have found in fome part of my
foul
A drop of patience. But, alas! to make me
A fixed figure, for the time of fcorn
To point his flow, unmoving finger at-

Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
But there, where I have garner'd up my heart;
Where either I muft live, or bear no life;
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or elfe dries up; to be difcarded thence!
Or keep it as a ciftern, for foul toads

To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion

there!

Patience, thou young and rofe-lipp'd cherubin; Ay, there, look grim as hell!

Def. I hope my noble lord efteems me honest. Otb. O, ay; as fummer-flies are in the fhambles, That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed, Who art fo lovely fair, and smell'ft fo fweet, That the fenfe akes at thee; would thou hadst ne'er been born!

Def. Alas! what ignorant fin have I committed: Oth. Was this fair paper, this moft goodly book, Made to write whore upon? what committed! Committed! O thou public commoner 1 I should make very forges of my cheeks That would to cinders burn up modefty, Did I but speak thy deeds.-What committed! Heaven ftops the nofe at it, and the moon winks: The bawdy wind, that kiffes all it meets,

hufh'd within the hollow mine of earth,

Comfort forfwear me! Unkindness may do much;
And his unkindnefs may defeat my life,
But never taint my love.

A Bed-chamber: Desdemona is discovered afleep in ber Bed,

Enter Othello, with a Light and Sword. Oth. It is the caufe, it is the caufe, my foulLet me not name it to you, you chaste stars! It is the caufe. - Yet I'll not fhed her blood, Nor fear that whiter fkin of hers than fnow, And smooth as monumental alabafter.

[Lays down the fword. Yet she must die, else she 'Il betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out the light! If I quench thee, thou flaming minifter, I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me; but once put out thy light, Thou cunning'ft pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light re-lume.

[Sets down the taper. When I have pluck'd thy rofe, cannot give it vital growth again;

It needs muft wither: I'll fmell it on the tree. [Kifing ber.

O balmy breath, thou doft almoft perfuade
Juftice herself to break her fword! One more,
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after: cne more, and this the last ;.
So fweet was ne'er fo fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears: this forrow 's heavenly;
It strikes where it doth love.

Othello's Confufion after having muraered his Wife.

Yes, 'tis Emilia :-by and by-she's dead. 'Tis like, he comes to peak of Callio's death;

The

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