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He would himself have been a soldier.
VII.—Hotspur's Soliloquy on the Contents of a Letter.-IB.
BUT, for mine own part my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respeci of the love I bear your house."
-He could be contented to be there! Why is he not then ?--In respect of the love he bears our house? He shows in this he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. - Let me see some more.
“ The purpose you undertake is dangerous.” Why, that's certain ?" 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my lord, Fool, out of this nettle danger, we pluck this
“ The purpose you undertake is dangerous; the friends you have pamed uncertain ; the time itself unsorted; and your whole plot too light for the counderpoise of so great an opposition."--Say you so, say you $0? I say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly hind, and you lię. What a lackbrain is this! Our plot is a good plot as ever was laid'; our friends true and constant; a good plot; good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty spirited rogue is this! Why, my lord of York coinmands the plot, and the general course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle and myself? Lord Edmund Mortimer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not besides, the Douglas'? Have I not all their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month? 'And are not some of them set forward already? What a Pagan rascal is this ! An infidel --Ha! You shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the king, and lay open all our proceedings. O! I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving such dish of skimmed milk with so honourable an action. Hang him! Let him tell the king. prepared. I will set forward to night.
VIII.-Othello's Apology for his Marriage.
TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO. Most potent, grave and reverend seignors : My very noble and approv'd 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 speech, And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace: For since these arms of mine had seven years pith, Till now, some vine 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 broils and battle ; And therefore, little shall I grace my cause, In speaking of myself. Yet by your patience, I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver, of my whole course of love, what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic, (For such proceedings I am charg'd withal) I won his daughter with.
Her father lov'd me; oft invited me;
All these to hear
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
IX.-Henry IV's Soliloquy on Sleep.-- SHAKESPEARE.
How many thousands of my poorest subjects
And in the calmest and the stillest night,
EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR. I WILL tell you, Sir, by the way of private and under seal, I am a gentleman ; and live here obscure, and to myself; but were I known to his Majesty and the Lords, observe me, I would undertake, upon this poor head and live, for the public benefit of the state, not only to spare the entire lives of his subjects in general, but to save the one half, nay three fourths of his yearly charge in holding war, and against what enemy soever. And how would I do it, think you? Why thus, Sir.- I would select nineteen more to myself, throughout the land; gentlemen they should be; of good spirit, strong and able constitution. I would choose them by an instinct that I have. And I would teach these vineteen the special rules; as your Punto, your Reverso, your Stoccata, your Imbroccata, your Passada, your Montonto; till they could all play very near, or altogether, as well as myself. This
enemy were forty thousand strong. We twenty would come into the field, the tenth of March, or thereabouts, and we would challenge twenty of the enemy; they could not, in their honour, refuse us. Well-we would kill them challenge twenty more-kill them; twenty more--kill them ; twenty more-kill them too. And thus, would we kill every man, his ten a day-that's ten - score: Ten score-that's two hundred; two hundred a day-five days, a thousand: Forty thousand-forty times five-five times forty-two hundred days kill them all up by computation. And this I will venture my poor gentlemanlike carcase to perform (provided there be no treason practised upon us by fair and discreet manhood; that is civilly--by the sword.
done : say
XI.-Soliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle, on the Murder of his
Brother. - TRAGEDY OF HAMLET.
A brother's murder-Pray I cannot, Though inclination be as sharp as 'twillMy stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; And like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first beginAnd both neglect. What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's bloodIs there not rain enough in the sweet heaveus To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy, But to confront the visage of offence ? And what's in prayer, but this twofold force ? To be forestalled ere we come to fall. Or pardon'd being, down? Then I'll look up. My fault is past. But Oh! What form of prayer Can serve my turn ?. Forgive me my fool murder, That cannot be, since I am still possessid Of those effects for which I did the murderMy crown, my own ambition, and my queen. May one be pardoned, and retain th offence? In the corrupted currents of this world, Offerrce's gilded hand may shove by justice : And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself Buys out the laws. But 'tis not so above. There is no shuffling+there the action lies In its true nature, and we ourselves compellid E’en 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 cannot repent ? Oh, wretched state! Oh, bosom black as death! Oh, limed soul, that struggling to be free, Art more engag'd! 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.
XII.-Soliloquy of Hamlet on Death. --le.
TO be or not to be- that is the question,