Ham. Indeed, indeed, sir, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night? Hor. We do, my lord. Ham. Armed, say you? Hor. Armed, my lord. Ham. Hor. From top to toe? My lord, from head to foot. Ham. Then saw you not his face? Hor. O yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up. Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. Hor. Nay, very pale. Ham. And fixed his eyes upon you? Hor. Most constantly. Ham. I would, I had been there. Hor. It would have much amazed you. Ham. Very like, very like; staid it long? Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. Ham. His beard was grizzled? No? Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silvered. Ham. I'll watch to-night; perchance 'twill walk again. Hor. I warrant you, it will. Ham. If it assume my noble father's person, I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape, Where Hamlet says, "I shall not look upon his like again,” he probably means eye, that is, no man, shall ever look upon his like again." Great histrionic performers of Shakspeare, differ in their manner, of reading the question, "Did you not speak to it?" Kemble laid the emphasis on the word, "you,"-Garrick on, speak." If the question were put, what, instead of "Who shall decide when doctors disagree?" the writer would answer, good sense. Horatio had just informed Hamlet, that Marsellus and Bernardo were afraid to speak to the ghost of his father; and, after ascertaining where this marvellous event took place, the prince pro pounds the question, "Did you not speak to it?" His meaning seems to be,—were you, as well as the gentlemen whom you name, afraid to speak? and, moreover, had I been there, I would have spoken. Indeed, so deter mined was Hamlet to do this, that he says in the last sentence "I'll speak to it though hell itself should gape And bid me hold my peace." 97. OTHELLO AND IAGO.-Shakspeare. lago. My noble lord Othello. What dost thou say, Iago? Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you wooed my lady, Oth. He did, from first to last. Why dost thou ask? No further harm. Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago? Iago. I did not think he had been acquainted with her. Oth. O, yes; and went between us very oft. Iago. Indeed! Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed.—Discern'st thou aught in that? Is he not honest? Iago. Honest, my lord? Oth. Ay, honest. Iago. My lord, for aught I know. Oth. What dost thou think? Iago. Think, my lord? Oth. Think, my lord! Why, thou dost echo me, As if there were some monster in thy thought Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something; I heard thee say but now: "I like not that," When Cassius left my wife. What didst not like? In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst: "Indeed!" Iago. My lord, you know I love you. Oth. I think thou dost; And for I know thou art full of love and honesty, Are tricks of custom; but in a man that's just, Iago. For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest. Iago. Men should be that they seem; Or, those that be not, 'would they might seem none ! Iago. Why, then, I think that Cassio is an honest man. I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of thoughts Iago. Good my lord, pardon me; Though I am bound to every act of duty, I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false,— Sometimes intrude not? Who has a breast so pure, Keep leets, and law-days, and in sessions sit Oth. This fellow's of exceeding honesty, Το pray at fortune. I think my wife be honest, and I think she's not; I'll have some proof,-her name that was as fresh To try me with affliction; had he rain'd Steeped me in poverty to the very lips, But then where I have garner'd up my heart,- O now, forever, Farewell the tranquil mind! Farewell content! Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! "One sinner destroyeth much good." Iago said of Desdemona "By how much she strives to do him good, So "out of her own goodness," the villain made "the net "That" did "enmesh them all." 98. ALONZO'S SOLILOQUY.-Dr. Edward Young. [Alonzo has a dagger concealed beneath his mantle. His beautiful wife, Leonora, is in a bower of roses asleep.] Ye amaranths! ye roses like the morn! Yes see how every flower lets fall its head? Have ever these sweet echoes learned to groan? Know, in thy fragrant bosom thou receivest And soon damnation followed! Ha! she sleeps. [Advancing. [In a whisper. The day's uncommon heat has overcome her. To give such charms as these, and then to call on man, Was it because it was too hard for you? But see, she smiles! I never shall smile more. It strongly tempts me to a parting kiss. Ha! smile again. [Goes towards her, and starts back.] She dreams of him she loves. Curse on her charms! I'll stab her through them all. It appears from Dr. Young's "Revenge," that Alonzo was made jealous of Leonora, by the impositions of Zango, the Moor; and that he formed the dreadful resolution, to put a period to her life, by his own hand. For this purpose, he supplies himself with a weapon of death, and steals to the bower where she is sleeping. Jealousy is, indeed, a green-eyed monster." It "doats, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves"-"it caresses and kills at the same time!" In a word, "it destroys that which it cannot live without." It was emphatically so with Othello. It is equally true of Alonzo. In the beautiful and eloquent language of the Rev. C. C. Burr, of Philadelphia, as the writer found it in one of that gentleman's excellent lectures on the passions:-"At one moment Leonora appears to Alonzo's doting heart, lovely as an angel, beautiful as heaven, soft as a milk-white lamb, libating for him in a bower of roses and amaranths,whose life and sweetness are met,—a sacrament of love, spread for him alone, and where he may baptize his soul in bliss,-where he may revel among those silver curls, clustering there, like tendrils of a parasite upon alabaster columns. The next moment his fancy paints her all begrimed, and black as hell." Under the wrong impression that she had been false to her marriage vows, he gave vent to the horrors of his mind in the above most admirable soliloquy. Let the declaimer be careful "to suit the action to the word." Let every important sentiment and emotion, be expressed through those "windows of the soul," the eyes, as well as by the voice. |