20 "Art thou a friend to Roderick ?"—" No." He brings to aid his murderous hand."- Though space and law the stag we lend, "They do, by heaven !-Come Roderick Dhu, And let me but till morning rest 35 I write the falsehood on their crest." Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight." 40 66 Scott. 1 And thou hast walk'd about (how strange a story!) And time had not begun to overthrow 2 Speak! for thou long enough hast acted Dummy, Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, 3 Tell us for doubtless thou canst recollect, To whom should we assign the sphinx's fame? Of either Pyramid that bears his name? Is Pompey's pillar really a misnomer? Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer? 4 Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidden By oath to tell the mysteries of thy trade, Then say what secret melody was hidden In Memnon's statue which at sunrise played? Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass, 6 I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, Long after thy primeval race was run. 7 Since first thy form was in this box extended, We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations; The Roman empire has begun and ended; New worlds have risen-we have lost old nations, And countless kings have into dust been humbled, While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 8 Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head And shook the Pyramids with fear and wonder, 9 If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed, A heart has throbb'd beneath that leathern breast, And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled ; Have children climb'd those knees, and kissed that face? 10 Statue of flesh-immortal of the dead! Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed, And standest undecayed within our presence, Thou wilt hear nothing till the Judgment morning, When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning. 11 Why should this worthless tegument endure, If its undying guest be lost for ever? O let us keep the soul embalmed and pure In living virtue; that when both must sever, Although corruption may our frame consume, Th' immortal spirit in the skies may bloom. 46. * Othello and Iago. Iago. My noble lord Oth. What dost thou say, Iago? Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you wooed my Lady, Oth. He did from first to last: why dost thou ask? No farther harm. Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago? Iago. I did not think he'd been acquainted with it. Iago. Indeed! Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed. Discern'st thou aught in that? Is he not honest ? Iago. Honest, my lord? Oth. Honest! ay, honest. Iago. My lord, for aught. I know. Oth. What dost thou think? Iago. Think, my lord! Oth. Think! my lord! Why, thou echo'st me, As if there were some monster in thy thought Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something; I heard thee say but now, "thou lik❜dst not that," When Cassio left my wife. What didst not like? 25 And when I told thee, he was of my counsel, In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst, " Indeed!" Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me, 30 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 giv'st them breath, 35 Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more: For such things, in a false, disloyal knave, 40 45 Are tricks of custom; but in a man that's just, Iago. For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest. Iago. Men should be what they seem; Or, those that be not, would they might seem knaves. Iago. Why, then I think Cassio's an honest man. I pray thee speak to me as to thy thinkings; As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of thoughts 50 The worst of words. Iago. Good, my lord, pardon me ; I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. Utter my thoughts!-Why, say, they're vile and false; 55 As where's that place, where into foul things Sometimes intrude not? Who has a breast so pure Keep leets and law-days, and in sessions sit Shakspeare: Macd. SEE, who comes here! Mal. My countryman; but yet I know him not. Mal. I know him now. Pray heaven, betimes remove 5 The means that make us strangers! Rosse. Sir, Amen. Macd. Stands Scotland where it did? Rosse. Alas, poor country, Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot 10 Be called our mother, but our grave; where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rend the air, 15 Is there scarce asked for whom and good men's lives 20 25 30 Macd. Oh, relation 'Too nice, and yet too true! Mal. What is the newest grief? Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker. Each minute teems a new one. Macd. How does my wife? Rosse. Why, well. Macd. And all my children? Rosse. Well too. Macd. The tyrant has not battered at their peace? them. Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech: how goes it? That should be howled out in the desert air, Where hearing would not catch them. Macd. What concern they? The general cause? or is it a fee grief, 35 Due to some single breast? Rosse. No mind that's honest, But in it shares some wo; though the main part |