Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new-reap'd,
Showed like a ftubble-land at harvest-home.
He was perfumed like a milliner;

And, 'twixt his finger and his thumb, he held
A pouncet box, which ever and anon

He gave his nofe..

And still he fmil'd and talk'd:

And, as the foldiers bare dead bodies by,
He call'd them "untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a flovenly unhandfome corle
Betwixt the wind and his nobility."-
With many holiday and lady terms

He queftion'd me: amongst the reft, demanded
My prifoners in your Majefty's behalf.

I then, all fmarting with my wounds, being gall'd
To be fo pefter'd with a popinjay,

Out of my grief and my impatience,

Anfwer'd neglectingly-I know not what-
He fhould or fhould not: for he made me mad,
To fee him fhine fo brifk, and fmell fo fweet,

And talk fo like a waiting-gentlewoman,

Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (Heav'n fave the mark!)
And telling me, the fovereign't thing on earth
Was parmacity for an inward bruife;
And that it was great pity (fo it was)
This villanous faltpetre fhould be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed
So cowardly and but for these vile guns-
He would himself have been a foldier.-
This bald, unjointed chat of his, my lord,
I anfwer'd indirectly, as I faid;
And I beseech you, let not his report
Come current for an accufation

Betwixt my love and your high Majefty.

VII. Hotfpur's Soliloquy on the Contents of a Letter.

BUT, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house.". ."-He could be contented to be there! Why is he not then?-In refpect of the love he bears our houfe! He fhows in this, he loves his own barn better

Ff

than

than he loves our house. Let me fee fome more. "The purpose you undertake is dangerous."-Why, that's certain: 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to fleep, to drink : but I tell you, my lord Fool, out of this nettle danger, we pluck this flower fafety. "The purpofe you undertake is dangerous; the friends you have named, uncertain; the time itself, unforted; and your whole plot too light for the counterpoife of fo great an oppofition."Say you fo, fay you fo? I fay unto you again, you are a fhallow cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lackbrain is this! Our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends true and conftant; a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frofty-fpirited rogue is this! Why, my lord of York commends the plot, and the general courfe of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this raf cal, I could brain him with his lady's fan.. Is there not my father, my uncle, and myfelf; Lord Edmund Mortimer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not, befides, the Douglas? Have I not all their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month? and are there not fome of them fet forward already? What a Pagan rascal is this! an infidel !—Ha! you fhall fee now, in very fincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the king, and lay open all our proceedings. O! 1 could divide myfelf and go to boffets, for moving fuch a difh of fkimmed milk with fo honourable an action.-Hang him! let him tell the king. We are prepared. I will fet forward to-night. VIII. Othello's Apology for his Marriage.

MOST Potent, grave, and reverend figniors;
My very noble and approv'd good masters-
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is moft true; true, I have married her :
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I in fpeech,
And little blefs'd with the fet phrafe of peace:
For fince thefe arms of mine had feven years' pith,
Till now, fome nine moons wafted, they have us'd
Their dearest action in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,

More

More than pertains to feats of broils and battle;
And, therefore, little fhall I grace my cause
In fpeaking for myfelf. Yet, by your patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver

Of my whole courfe of love; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic, (For fuch proceeding I am charg'd withal)

I won his daughter with.

Her father lov'd-me; oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life
From year to year; the battles, fieges, fortunes,
That I had paft.

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

Of hair-breadth 'fcapes in th' imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the infolent foe,

And fold to flavery; of my redemption thence,
And with it all my travel's history.
All these to hear

Would Defdemona feriously incline:

But ftill the houfe-affairs would draw her thence
Which ever as fhe could with haste dispatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my difcourfe." Which I obferving,
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 fhe had fomething heard, -
But not diftinctively. I did confent;
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did fpeak of some distressful stroke
That my youth fuffer'd. My ftory being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of fighs.

She fwore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas paffing strange; 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:

She wish'd fhe had not heard it; yet fhe wifh'd

That Heav'n had made her fuch a man. She thank'd me;
And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
I fhould but teach him how to tell my ftory,
And that would woo her. On this hint I fpake:

Ff2

She lov'd me for the dangers I had paft;
And I lov'd her, that the did pity them.-
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd.

IX. Henry IVth's Soliloquy on Sleep.
HOW many thousands of my pooreft fubjects
Are at this hour afleep!-O gentle Sleep!
Nature's foft nurfe! how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
And fleep my fenfes in forgetfulness?

Why rather, Sleep, lieft thou in fmoky cribs,
Upon uneafy pallets ftretching thee,

And huth'd with buzzing night flies to thy flumber,
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of coftly ftate,

And lull'd with founds of fweetest melody?
O thou dull god! why lieft thou with the vile
In loathfome beds, and leav'ft the kingly couch
A watch-cafe to a common larum-bell?
Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast,
Seal up the fhip-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious furge,
And, in the vifitation of the winds,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monftrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamours in the flipp'ry shrouds,
That, with the hurly, Death itself awakes ;
Canft thou, O partial Sleep! give thy repofe
To the wet fea-boy in an hour fo rude,
And, in the calmeit and the ftillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king -Then, happy lowly clown!-
Uneafy lies the head that wears a crown.

X. Captain Bobadil's Method of Defeating an Army, I WILL tell you, Sir, by the way of private and under feal, I am a gentleman; and live here obscure, and to myfelf: but, were I known to his Majefty and the lords, obferve me, I would undertake, upon this poor head and life, for the public benefit of the ftate, not only to fpare the entire lives of his subjects in general, but to fave the one half, nay three fourths of his

yearly

yearly charge in holding war, and against what enemy foever. And how would I do it, think you ?-Why thus, Sir.-I would felect nineteen more to myfelf, through out the land gentlemen they fhould be; of good spirit, ftrong and able conftitution. I would choose them by an inftinct that I have. And I would teach thefe nineteen the special rules; as your Punto, your Reverfo, your Stoccata, your Imbroccata, your Paffada, your Montonto; till they could all play very near, or altogether, as well as myfelf. This done, fay the enemy were forty thoufand ftrong. We twenty would come into the field, the tenth of March, or thereabouts; and we would chal lenge twenty of the enemy: they could not, in their honour, refufe 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 fcore: ten fcore-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 carcafe to perform (provided there be no treafon practifed upon us) by fair and discreet manhood; that is, civilly-by the fword.

XI Soliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle on the Murder of his
Brother.

OH! my offence is rank; it fmells to heaven:
It hath the primal, eldeft curfe upon't!-
A brother's murder!-Pray I cannot,
Though inclination be as fharp as 'twill:
My ftronger guilt defeats my ftrong intent;
And, like a man to double bufinefs bound,
I ftand in pause where I fhall first begin-
And both neglect.-What, if this curled hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood;
Is there not rain enough in the fweet heav'ns
To wash it white as fnow? Whereto ferves mercy,-
But to confront the vifage of offence?

And what's in prayer, but this twofold force;
To be foreftalled, ere we come to fall;

Or pardon'd, being down?-Then, I'll look up,