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Despair of Pardon.
But, O thou tyrant!
Do not repent these things; for they are heavier
That, for thy mother's fault, art thus exposed
The day frowns more and more; thou art like to have
A Rustic's Description of a Shipwreck.
I would did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! but that's not to the point. O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls! sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em; now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast; and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land service,-To see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an end of the ship: to see how the sea flap-dragoned it :-but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them ;-and how the * Engulphed.
poor gentleman roared, and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea or weather.
He says, he loves my daughter;
I think so too; for never gazed the moon
As 't were, my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain,
Who loves another best.
A Father the best Guest at his Son's Nuptials.
POLIXENES. Methinks, a father
Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest
That best becomes the table.
Pray you, once more
Is not your father grown incapable
Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid
With age, and altering rheums? can he speak ? hear? Know man from man? dispute his own estate?
Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing,
But what he did being childish?
No, good sir:
He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed,
Than most have of his age.
By my white beard,
You offer him, if this be so, a wrong
Something unfilial. Reason, my son,
Should choose himself a wife; but as good reason,
The father (all whose joy is nothing else
But fair posterity), should hold some counsel
I was not much afeard: for once or twice 1 was about to speak; and tell him plainly, The self-same sun, that shines upon his court, Hides not his visage from our cottage, but Looks on alike.
Love cemented by Prosperity, but loosened by Adversity.
Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together
LEONTES. What was he that did make it ?-See, my lord,
Would you not deem it breath'd?—and that those veins Did verily bear blood?
The very life seems warm upon her lip.
LEONTES. The fixure of her eye hath motion in't As we are mock'd with art.
Claudius, the reigning king of Denmark, has killed his brother, the former king, and placed himself on the throne, marrying
* As if.
at the same time the widow of the murdered monarch, whose ghost appears to his son Hamlet, urging him to avenge his death. In order the better to effect this object, Hamlet feigns madness, and causes a play to be acted before the king and queen which represents a scene similar to the murder of his father. The agitation of the king and queen at witnessing this representation, convinces Hamlet of their guilt, and he eventually avenges his father's death by killing the guilty Claudius; the queen drinks poison which is intended by the king for Hamlet, who, in a fencing bout with Laertes, son of Polonius, a foolish old lord, is wounded by a rapier anointed with poison and dies. Ophelia, the daughter of Polonius, goes mad, and drowns herself in a distraught state, whilst Polonius himself is stabbed by Hamlet. The play, perhaps more than any other of Shakspere's, abounds in tragic incidents. "If," says Dr. Johnson, speaking of this play, "the dramas of Shakspere were to be characterized each by the particular excellence which distinguishes it from the rest, we must allow to the tragedy of Hamlet the praise of variety; the incidents are so numerous that the argument of the play would make a long tale."
Ghosts vanish at the Crowing of a Cock.
BERNARDO. It was about to speak when the cock
HORATIO. And then it started, like a guilty thing.
The Reverence paid to Christmas Time.
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,
Immoderate Grief reproved.
'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, To give these mourning duties to your
But, you must know, your father lost a father ;
In filial obligation, for some term
To do obsequious sorrow: But to persevere