CLARENCE AND BRAKENBURY.

Brakenbury. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day?
Clarence. O, I have pass'd a miserable night,

So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams,
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,

I would not spend another such a night,

Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days;

So full of dismal terror was the time.

Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray you tell me. Clar. Methought that I had broken from the tower, And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy,

And in my company my brother Gloucester,

Who from my cabin tempted me to walk

Upon the hatches. Thence we look'd toward England,
And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster,

That had befallen us. As we pass'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,

Methought that Gloucester stumbled, and in falling,
Struck me (that sought to stay him) overboard,
Into the tumbling billows of the main.

Lord, Lord, methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of waters in my ears!
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes!
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels;

All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea.

Some lay in dead men's sculls; and in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,

And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.

Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death, To gaze upon the secrets of the deep?

Clar. Methought I had; and often did I strive
To yield the ghost; but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vast, and wand'ring air;
But smother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
Brak. Awaked you not with this sore agony?
Clar. O, no; my dream was lengthen'd after life;
O, then began the tempest to my soul;

I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.

The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick,
Who cried aloud "What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?"
And so he vanish'd. Then came wand'ring by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood, and he shriek'd out aloud
"Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,
That stabbed me in the field by Tewksbury!
Seize on him, furies! take him to your torments!
With that, methought a legion of foul fiends
Environ'd me, and howl'd into mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
I trembling waked; and for a season after
Could not believe but that I was in hell;
Such terrible impression made my dream.
Brak. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you;
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

Clar. O Brakenbury, I have done those things
That now give evidence against my soul,
For Edward's sake; and see how he requites me!
O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee,

But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds,

Yet execute thy wrath on me alone:

O spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children!
I pray thee, Brakenbury, stay by me:

My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.

OTHELLO AND IAGO.

Iago. My noble lord

SHAKSPERE.

Othello. What dost thou say, Iago?

Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd

Know of your love?

my lady,

Oth. He did, from first to last. Why dost thou ask?

Iago. But for a satisfaction of my thought;

No further harm.

Oth. Why of that 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!

By heaven, he echoes me,

As if there were some monster in his thought

Too hideous to be shown. - Thou dost mean something:

I heard thee say but now - Thou likedst not that,

When Cassio left my wife; what didst not like?

And when I told thee he was of my counsel

In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, Indeed?
And did contract and purse thy brow together,

As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit: If thou dost love me,
Show me thy thought.

Iago. My lord, you know I love you.

Oth. I think thou dost;

And

for I know thou art full of love and honesty,

And weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more;
For such things, in a false disloyal knave,

Are tricks of custom; but, in a man that's just,
They are close denotements, working from the heart,
That passion cannot rule.

Iago. For Michael Cassio,

I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest.

Oth. I think so too.

Iago. Men should be what they seem;

Or, those that be not, would they might seem none! Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem, Iago. Why then,

I think that Cassio is an honest man.

Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this :

I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,

As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words.

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're vile and false -
As where's the palace, whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not? Who has a breast so pure,
But some uncleanly apprehensions

Keep leets, and law days, and in session sit,
With meditations lawful?

Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,

If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and makest his ear
A stranger to thy thoughts.

Iago. I do beseech you,

Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess,

As, I confess, it is my nature's plague

To

spy into abuses; and oft my jealousy,

Shapes faults that are not — I entreat you then,
From one that so imperfectly conjects,

You'd take no notice; nor build yourself a trouble
Out of his scattering and unsure observance :
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
To let you know my thoughts.

Oth. What dost thou mean?

Iago. Good name, in man, and woman, dear my lord,

Is the immediate jewel of their souls.

Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;

But he, that filches from me my good name,

Robs me of that, which not enriches him,

And makes me poor indeed.

Oth. By heaven I'll know thy thought.

Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand.

Nor shall not, while 'tis in my custody.

Oth. Ha!

Iago. O beware, my lord, of jealousy;

It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock
The meat it feeds on: That husband lives in bliss,
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But O, what damned minutes tells he o'er,

Who doats, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves!
Oth. O misery!

Lago. Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough ;
But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter,

To him that ever fears he shall be poor :

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