Oth. Avaunt! Be gone! Thou'st set me on Better, unknowing, to be much abus'd, Iago. How my Lord? Rage. Pretended furprise. Oth. What sense had I of her unfaithfulness? Regret for I thought not of it; felt no injury ; I slept untroubled; I wak'd free and cheerful. loft repose. Grief. Anguifh. Iago. Is't possible, my Lord, you should be Pretended thus Oth. Villain! Be sure thou prove my love a Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul, furprife. Rage. Threat'ning Iago. Is it come to this! Good Heav'n defend Surprise and me! Are you a man? Have you a soul, or sense ? vexation. Reproof of ingratitude. Self-accufe. * O monstrous world! What times are we fall'n' *Aftonifhupon? To be direct and honest, is not safe. I thank you for this profit, and henceforth inent. Pretended I'll love no friend; since love breeds such offence. reproof of [Going.] ingratitude. Oth. Nay stay-thou should'st be honest. That loses what it works for. Oth. In my anguish I think my wife is honest, and think she is not. * (1) "Her name," that is, her character, or reputation. Recollectio. Pretended fenfe of Injury. Apology. *Regret. Fury. Pretended concern. Anxiety Pretended As Dian's (1) visage, is now begrim'd and black Oth. Give me a living reason she's disloyal. reluctance. But since I'm enter'd in this cause so far, Caution. Rage. Hypocriti cat foothing So loose of soul, that in their sleep, will mutter O cursed fate, that gave thee to the Moor." Iag. Nay; but be calm. This may be noth- She may be honest still. But tell me this, Question. Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief Spotted with strawberries, in your wife's hand? Oth. I gave her such a one. "Twas my first gift. Alarm. Accufing. Defperation Boundless fury. Iag. That I knew not. But such a handker- (I'm sure, it was the same) did I to-day Oth. O that the slave had twenty thousand One is too poor too weak for my revenge, Oth. O blood, blood, blood! Hot, reeking blood shall wash the pois'nous stain, (1) "Dian's vifage." Diana is reprefented in the heathen mythology, as a goddess of extraordinary purity. Which fouls mine honour. From this hour, my thoughts Shall ne'er look back, nor ebb to humble love, Equal to their gross guilt, swallows them up, LXXIV. CRAFT. FOOLISH FEAR. VEXA- MASCARILLE, a crafty servant, in the interest of LEAN- Anselm. WHAT, my good friend Pandolph dead! Horror. Revenge. Gratitude. Surprise. Mascarille. I don't wonder the news surprises Concern. you. Ans. To die so very suddenly! Surprise. Masc. It is a very hurrying way of doing Concern. things, to be sure. But who can make people live, you know, if they will die? Grief. Ans. But how does your young master take it? Question. Masc. Take it! why worse than he would a Whimsical. kicking. He welters on the ground like a wounded adder, and says he will absolutely go into the same grave with his dear papa. If it were not that they who take on so violently, do not, for the most part, hold it long, I should expect him to go quite compompous about it. But-a-you must know, Sir, that we are all in a pucker at Apology. Asking a favour. Anxiety. Anxiety. Alarm. Courage. our house. The old gentleman must be buried, you know, and that requires some of the ready. And my young master, if he were in his best wits, knows no more than a broomstick, where to find a penny of money. For you know, the old one, rest his soul, kept all that same as snug as if he had thought the daylight would melt it. Now, Sir, you would do us a great kindness if you will be so good as to help us with a score or two of pieces, till we can turn ourselves round a little. W Gives Ans. Hum-Aside. He will have a good estate. And will not grudge to pay handsome Refolution. interest. [To Masc.] I will come to him immediately, and bring the money with me; and try to comfort him a little. [He goes. the money. Is deceived by an artificial corps laid out on the bed. Returns full of anxiety.] Lawkaday! what a sad thing this is. He was but sixty-eight, or sixty-nine; about the same age with myself. It frightens me to think of it. Suppose I should die suddenly too. I believe I had better think of repentirg, and making my peace. It is true, he was a little asthmatic, and, thank God, no body has better lungs-hem-hem-hem than myse f.Well, but I must go, and send neighbour Cloak um, the undertaker, as I promised. [Going, he meets the supposed dead man, who had been stopped on his way to his country-house, by persons, who informed him of the falsehood of the reports which had occasioned his setting out.] Ah! mercy on my soul! What is that! My old friend's ghost! They say, none but wicked folks walk. I wish I were at the bottom of a coal-pit! Law! How paie, and how long his face is grown since his death. He never was handsome. And death has improvIntreating. ed him very much the wrong way.-Pray, do not come near me. I wished you very well when you was alive. But I could never abide a dead Trembling. man cheek by jowl with me. Rest your soul ! Terror. Rest your soul, I pray! Vanish, vanish, in the Trembling. name of its Pandolph. What the plague is the matter, old friend! Are you gone out of your wits. I came to ask your advice; but Wonder. Ans. Tell me, then, pray, without coming a Intreating, step nearer, what you would have me do for the repose of your soul. Ah, eh, eh, eh, mercy on us! Trembling. no nearer pray! If it be only to take your leave of me, that you are come back, I could have ex cused you the ceremony with all my heart. [Pandolph comes nearer, to convince Anselm, that he is not dead. He draws back, as the other advances.] Or if you mercy on uso near- Intreating. er, prayor if you have wronged any body, as you always loved money a little, I give the word of a frightened christian, I will pray as long as you please, for the deliverance and repose of your departed soul. My good, worthy, Perfuading. noble friend, do, pray disappear, as ever you - would wish your old friend Anselm, to come to his senses again. Mirth. Pand. [laughing.] If I were not most confoundedly out of humour, I could be diverted to a pitch. But prithee now, old friend, what is in Remonfira. the wind, that you will have me to be dead? This is some contrivance of that rogue Masca- Sufpicion. rille, I guess by what I have just found out of his tricks. Ans. Ah, you are dead, too sure. Did not I see your corpse laid out upon your own bed, and Fear. Pand. What the deuce! I am dead, and Remonftrà. know nothing of it! But, don't you see that I am not dead? Ans. You are clothed with a body of air, which resembles your own person, when you was alive-only-you'll excuse me a good deal plainer. But, pray, now, don't assume a figure more frightful, I am within a hair's breadth of W Fear Intreaty. |