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Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice ;
And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law: But 't is not so above:
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature; and we ourselves compelled,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? what rests?
Try what repentance can: What can it not?
Yet what can it, when one can not repent?
O wretched state! O bosom, black as death!
O limed soul, that struggling to be free,

Art more engaged! Help, angels, make assay !
Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart, with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe :

All may be well!

OTHELLO'S ADDRESS TO THE SENATE.

Othello.

MOST potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble and approved 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 am I in my speech,
And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace;
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
Their dearest action in the tented field;

And little of this great world can I speak,

More than pertains to feats of broils and battle;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,

In speaking for myself: Yet, by your gracious patience,

I will a round unvarnished tale deliver

Of my whole course of love: what drugs, what charms,
What conjuration, and what mighty magic,

(For such proceeding I am charged withal,)

I won his daughter.

I do beseech you,

Send for the lady to the Sagittary,

And let her speak of me before her father:

If you do find me foul in her report,

The trust, the office, I do hold of you,

Not only take away, but let your sentence

Even fall upon my life.

Ancient, conduct them: you best know the place. And, till she come, as truly as to heaven

I do confess the vices of my blood,

So justly to your grave ears I'll present
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love,
And she in mine.

Her father loved me; oft invited me ;
Still questioned me the story of my life,
From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortune,
That I have passed,

I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it.
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances ;
Of moving accidents by flood and field ;

Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the insolent foe

And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,

And portance. In my traveller's history,

(Wherein of antres vast, and desarts idle,'

Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint to speak,) such was my process;—

And of the Cannibals that each other eat,

The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads

Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to hear

1 Sterile, barren.

Would Desdemona seriously incline;

But still the house affairs would draw her thence;
Which ever as she could with haste despatch,
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 intentively: I did consent;
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suffered. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs :

She swore,-In faith, 't was strange, 't was passing strange; "T was pitiful, 't was wondrous pitiful:

She wished she had not heard it; yet she wished

That heaven had made her such a man: she thanked me:

And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,

I should but teach him how to tell my story,

And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake :
She loved me for the dangers I had passed;
And I loved her that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have used;
Here comes the lady, let her witness it.

LADY MACBETH'S SOLILOQUY.
Reading a letter.

"THEY met me in the day of success; and I have learned by the perfectest report, that they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who all hailed me, 'Thane of Cawdor;' by which title, before, these weird

sisters saluted me, and referred me to the coming on of time, with ‘Hail, king that shalt be!' This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness; that thou mightest not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell."

Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be

What thou art promised :- Yet do I fear thy nature;

It is too full o' the milk of human kindness

To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great;

Art not without ambition; but without

The illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,

And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou 'dst have, great

Glamis,

That which cries, "Thus thou must do, if thou have it :

And that which rather thou dost fear to do,

Than wishest should be undone." Hie thee hither,
That I may pour my spirits in thine ear;
And chastise with the valour of my tongue
All that impedes thee from the golden round,
Which fate and metaphysical' aid doth seem
To have thee crowned withal.

The raven himself is hoarse
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here;
And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood,
Stop up the access and passage to remorse;
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The effect, and it !2 Come to my woman's breasts,

1 Supernatural.

2 "If fear, compassion, or any other compunctious visitings, stand between a cruel purpose and its realisation, they may be said to keep peace between them, as one who interferes between a violent man and the object of his wrath keeps peace."-CHARLES KNIGHT.

And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances

You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell!
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ;
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry, "Hold, hold!"

MACBETH'S SOLILOQUY ON THE MURDER OF DUNCAN.

Macbeth.

If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well
It were done quickly. If the assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch,
With his surcease, success; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
But here, upon this bank and shoal' of time,
We'd jump the life to come.

But in these cases,

that we but teach

We still have judgment here;
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
To plague the inventor. This even-handed justice
Commends the ingredients of our poisoned chalice
To our own lips. He's here in double trust:
First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,
Strong both against the deed: then, as his host,
Who should against his murderer shut the door,
Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan
Hath borne his faculties so meek-hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
The deep damnation of his taking-off:

And pity, like a naked new-born babe,

1 The shallow ford of life.

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