Imatges de pÓgina
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Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
But there, where I have garn'd* up my heart;
Where either I must live, or bear no life;
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads [there!
To knot and gender in!—turn thy complexion
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim;
Ay, there, look grim as hell!
Des. I hope, my noble lord esteems me honest.

Oth. O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles, That quicken even with blowing. Othou weed, Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet, That the sense aches at thee.--'Would, thou hadst

ne'er been born! Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed ?

Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write whore upon? What committed! Committed!

—0 thou public commoner!
I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed!
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks;
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,
Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
And will not hear it: What committed !-
Impudent strumpet!
Des.

By heaven, you do me wrong.
Oth. Are not you a strumpet?
Des.

No, as I am a christian;
If to preserve this vessel for my lord,
From

any

other foul unlawful touch, Be—not to be a strumpet, I am none. Oth. What, not a whore?

Treasured up

Des.

No, as I shall be sav'd.
Oth. Is it possible?
Des. O, heaven forgive us !

Oth. I cry you mercy, then;
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello.

DESDEMONA'S FIDELITY. O good lago, What shall I do to win my lord again? Good friend, go to him: for, by this light of heaven, I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel: If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed; Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, Delighted them in any other form; Or that I do not yet, and ever did, And ever will—though he do shake me off To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly, Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much; And his unkindness may

defeat

my life, But never taint

my

love.

ACT V.
OTHELLO'S IRRESOLUTION TO MURDER DESDEMONA.
SCENE. A Bedchamber: DESDEMONA in Bed asleep.

A Light burning.
It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,-
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!
It is the cause.- -Yet I 'll not shed her blood;
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.

[Takes off his Sword. Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.

Put out the light, and then put out the light*:
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent me:—but once put out thine,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd

thy rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It needs must wither:-_I'll smell it on the tree.

[Kissing her. O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade Justice to break her sword!-Onemore, one more. Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And love thee after:

-One more, and this the last: So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, But they are cruel tears: This sorrow's heavenly; It strikes, where it doth love.

HIS CONFUSION AFTER THE MURDER.

Yes;—'tis Emelia-by and by. She's dead. 'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio’s death: The noise was high.-Ha! no more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in! Were't good? I think, she stirs again :-No.—What's the best? If she come in, she'll sure speak to my My wife! my wife! what wife?-I have no wife: O, insupportable! O heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of sun and moon; and that the affrighted globe Should yawn at alteration.

wife:

HIS LOVE.

Had she been true,
If heaven would make me such another world

* i. e. The light of life.

Of one entire and perfect chrysolite*,
I'd not have sold her for it.

HIS REMORSE.

Behold! I have a weapon; A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day, That, with this little arm, and this good sword, I have made my way through more impediments Than twenty times your stop:-But, О vain boast! Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now. Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon’d; Here is my journey's end, here is my butt, And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. Do you go back dismay’d? 'tis a lost fear; Man but a rush against Othello's breast, And he retires; Where should Othello go?Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench! Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at comptt This look of thine will hurl

my

soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl? Even like thy chastity.O cursed, cursed slave!- Whip me, ye devils, From the possession of this heavenly sight! Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulphur! Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead? Dead? O! O! O!

HIS SPEECH BEFORE HIS DEATH.
Soft you; a word or two, before you go. [it;
I have done the state some service, and they know
No more of that:- I pray you, in your letters,
When

you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
* A precious stone.

+ Account

Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, [speak
Nor set down aught in malice: then must you
Of one, that lov'd not wisely, but too well;
Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
Perplex'd in the extreme; of one, whose hand,
Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away,
Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose subdu'd

eyes,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinal gum:-Set you down this:
And say, besides, that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state,
I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
And smote him-thus.

[Stabs himself.

ROMEO AND JULIET.

ACT I.

LOVE.

Love is a smoke rais'd with a fume of sighs;
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex’d, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.

ON DREAMS.

O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman,

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