Imatges de pÓgina
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Hath this extent, no more.

Rude am I in my speech, And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace; For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, Till now some 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 shall I grace my cause, In speaking for myself: Yet, by your gracious pa

tience, I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver [charms, Of

my whole course of love; what drugs, what What conjurations, and what mighty magic, (For such proceeding I am charg'd withal) I won his daughter with.

Her father lov'd me; oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life,
From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have pass'd.
I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he made me tell it.
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents, by flood, and field; (breach;
Of hair-breadth scapes i'the imminent deadly
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
And portencet in my travel's history:

These things to hear, Would Desdemona seriously incline: But still the house affairs would draw her thence; Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, * Best exertion.

+ My behaviour.

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 intentivelyt: 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, 'twas passing

strange; 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful: She wish'd, she had not heard it; yet she wish'd That heaven 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 her. Upon 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.

ACT II.

PERFECT CONTENT.

O my soul's joy! If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken’d death! And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas, Olympus-high, and duck again as low As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die, 'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear, My soul liath her content so absolute,

* Parts. + Intention and attention were once synonymous.

That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.

ACT III.

A LOVER'S EXCLAMATION.
Farewell, my Desdemona: I will come to thee

straight.

[Exit DESDEMONA.
Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,
But I do love thee, and when I love thee not,
Chaos is come again.

OTHELLO'S FIRST SUSPICION.
Oth. What dost thou think?
Iago.

Think, my lord?
Oth.

Think, my lord!
By heaven, he echoes me,
As if there were some monster in his thought
Too hideous to be shown.-

.-Thou dost mean something: I heard thee

say

but now, Thou lik’dst not that,
When Cassio left my wife; What didst not like?
And, when I told thee he was of my counsel
In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, Indeed !
And didst contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit: If thou dost love me,
Show me thy thought.

Iago. My lord, you know I love you.
Oth.

I think, thou dost; And, for I know thou art full of love and honesty, And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them

breath,

Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more :
For such things, in a false disloyal knave,
Are tricks of custom; but in a man that's just,
They are close denotements, working from the
That passion cannot rule.

[heart,

REPUTATION.

Good name in man or woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls ; [nothing; Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he, that filches from me my good name, Robs me of that, which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.

OTHELLO'S JEALOUSY GAINING GROUND. This fellow's of exceeding honesty, And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit, Of human dealings: If I do prove her haggard, Though that her jessest were my dear heart-strings, I'd whistle her off, and let down the wind, To

prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black; And have not those soft parts of conversation 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 relief Must be—to loathe her. O curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad, And live

my

upon

the
vapour

of a dungeon, Than keep a corner in the thing I love, For others' uses.

* A species of hawk, also a term of reproach "applied to a wanton.

+ Straps of leather by which a hawk is held on the fist. * Men of intrigue.

DEFINITION OF JEALOUSY.

Trifles, light as air,
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ.

THE TORTURES OF JEALOUSY.

How now, my

Iago. Look, where he comes ! [Enter OTHELLO.]

Not poppy, nor mandragora*,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou ow’dstt yesterday.
Oth.

Ha! ha! false to me

? To me?

Iago. Why, how now, general ? no more of that.

Oth. Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the I swear, 'tis better to be much abus'd, [rack :Than but to know't a little. lago.

lord ?

[lust? Oth. What sense had l of her stolen hours of I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me: I slept the next night well, was free and merry; I found not Cassio's kisses 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 sorry to hear this.

oth. I had been happy, if the general camp, Pioneers and all, had tasted her sweet body, So I had nothing known : O now, for ever, Farewell the tranquil mind ! farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,

* The mandrake has a soporific quality.

+ Possessedst. # The vilest of the camp. Pioneers were generally degraded soldiers.

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