Never to rise again; thy mother's poison'd;

I can no more -the King, the King's to blame.
Ham. The point invenom'd too?

Then, venom, do thy work.

All. Treafon, treason.

[Stabs the King.

King. O yet defend me, friends, I am but hurt. Ham. Here, thou incestuous, murth'rous, damned Drink off this potion is the union here? :

Follow my mother.

Laer. He is juftly served,

It is a poifon temper'd by himself.

[Dane,

[King dies.

Exchange forgivenefs with me, noble Hamlet;
Mine and my father's death come not on thee,
Nor thine on me!

[Dies.

Ham. Heav'n make thee free of it! I follow.thee.

I'm dead, Horatio; wretched Queen, adieu !
You that look pale, and tremble at this chance,
That are but mutes or audience to this act,
Had I but time, (as this fell ferjeant Death
Is ftrict in his arreft), oh, I could tell you
But let it be--Horatio, I am dead;

1 hou liv'ft, report me and my cause aright
To the unfatisfied.

Hor. Never believe it.

I'm more an antic Roman than a Dane
Here's yet fome liquor left.

Ham. As th' art a man,

Give me the cup; let go; by heav'n I'll have't.
Oh good Horatio, what a wounded name,

'I hings ftanding thus unknown, fhall live behind me? If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,

Abfent thee from felicity a while,

And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
To tell my tale. [March afar off, and fhout within.
What warlike noife is this?

S CEN. E

VI..

Enter Ofrick.

Ofr. Young Fortinbras, with conqueft come from To the ambaffadors of England gives

This warlike volley.

Ham. I die, Horatio :

The potent peifon quite o'ergrows my spirit ;

[Poland,

I cannot live to hear the news from England.
But I do prophefy, th' election lights
On Fortinbras; he has my dying voice;

So tell him, with the occurrents more or less,
Which have folicited *.- -The rest is filence.

[Dies.

Hor. Now cracks a noble heart! good night, sweet:

Prince;

And flights of angels wing thee to thy rest !

Why does the drum come hither ?

Enter Fortinbras and English Ambafadors, with drum; colours, and attendants.

Fort. Where is this fight?

Hor, What is it you would fee?

If aught of woe or wonder, cease your fearch.

Fert. This quarry cries--on havock.

What feaft is tow'rd in thy infernal cell,
That thou so many princes at a fhot
So bloodily hast struck?

Amb. The fight is dismal,

Oh proud!

[Death!

And our affairs from England come too late :
The ears are fenfelefs that fhould give us hearing;
To tell him, his commandment is fulfill'd,

That Rofincrantz and Guildenstern are dead...
Where should we have our thanks ?

Hor. Not from his mouth †,
Had it th' ability of life to thank

you:

He never gave commandment for their death.
But fince fo jump upon this bloody question,

You from the Polack wars, and you from England,',
Are here arriv'd; give order, that these bodies
High on a stage be placed to the view,

And let me fpeak to th' yet unknowing world,
How these things came about.

So fhall you

Of cruel, bloody, and unnatural acts;

Of accidental judgments, cafual flaughters;
Of deaths put on by cunning, and forc'd caufe
And, in this upfhot, purposes mistook,

Fall'n on th' inventors' heads. All this can I
Truly deliver,

folicited, for brought on the event. i. e. the King's..

hear

Fort. Let us hafte to hear it,

And call the Nobleffe to the audience.

For me, with forrow I embrace my fortune;
I have fome rights of memory in this kingdom,
Which now to claim, my vantage doth invite me.
Hor. Of that i fhall have also cause to speak,

And from his mouth whofe voice will draw on more:
But let this fame be prefently perform'd,

Even while mens' minds are wild, left more mifchancè On plots and errors happen.

Fort. Let four captains

Bear Hamlet, like a foldier, to the stage;

For he was likely, had he been put on,

To have prov'd moft royally. And for his paffage,
The foldiers' mufic, and the rites of war

Speak loudly for him

Take up the body: fuch a fight as this

Becomes the field, but here fhews much amifs.
Go, bid the foldiers fhoot.

[Exeunt marching: after which a peal of ord-
nance is shot of.

OTHELLO, the Moor of Venice

DRAMATIS PERSONE,

DUKE of Venice.

Brabantio, a Noble Venetian.
Gratiano, brother to Brabantio
Lodovico, kinfman to Brabantio
and Gratiano.

Othello, the Moor, General for
the Venetians in Cyprus.
Caffio, his Lieutenant-General.
Jago, fandard-bearer to Othello.
Rodorigo, a foolish gentleman, in
love with Desdemona.

Montano, the Moor's predeceffor
in the government of Cyprus.
Clown, fervant to the, Moor.
Herald.

Desdemona, daughter to Braban
tio, and wife to Othello.
Emilia, wife to Ingo. [Caffio.
Bianca, a courtezan, mistress to
Officers, Gentlemen, Meffengers,
Muficians, Sailors, and Atten
dants.

SCENE, for the first at, in Venice; during the rest of the plag, in

Cyprus.

ACT
T I.

SCENE I.

Rod.

T

Aftreet in Venice.

Enter Rodorigo and Iago.

Ufh, never tell me, I take it much unkindly,
That thou, Iago, who haft had my purse,
As if the ftrings were thine, fhouldst know
of this-

Iago. But you'll not hear me.

If ever I did dream of fuch a matter, abhor me.
Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy hate.
Iago. Defpife me,

If I do not. Three great ones of the city,
In perfonal fuit to make me his lieutenant,
Off-cap'd to him: and, by the faith of man,
I know my price, I'm worth no worfe a place..
But he, as loving his own pride and purpose,

The story is taken from Cynthio's novels...

1

Evades them with a bombaft circumstance,

Horribly stuft with epithets of war,

And, in conclufion,

Non-fuits my mediators. Certes, fays he,
I have already chofe my officer.
And what was he?

For footh a great arithmetician,

One Michael Caffio,--(A Florentine's
A fellow almoft damn'd in a fair wife,--)
That never fet a fquadron in the field,
Nor the divifion of a battle knows

More than a spinster: but the bookish theoric,
Wherein the toged confuls* can propose

As masterly as he ;-mere prattle, without practice,
Is all his foldierfhip-he had th' election;
And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof
At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds,
Chriftian and Heathen, must be let and calm'd
By debtor and creditor, this counter-cafter;
He, in good time, muft his lieutenant be,

And I (God bless the mark!) his Moorship's ancient. Rod. By Heav'n, I rather would have been his hang

mail.

lago. But there's no remedy, 'tis the curfe of fervice; Preferment goes by letter and affection,

Not (as of old) gradation, where each fecond

Stood heir to th' firft. Now, Sir, be judge yourself,
If I in any juft term am aflign'd

To love the Moor.

Rod. I would not follow him then.
Iago. O Sir, content you;

I few him to ferve my turn upon him,

We cannot all be mafters, nor all masters

Cannot be truly follow'd, "You fhall mark "Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, "That doating on his own obfequious bondage, "Wears out his time, much like his master's afs, "For nought but provender; and when he's old, cafhier'd ;

-Others there are,

Whip me fuch honeft knaves-
Who, trimm'd in forms and vifages of duty,

confuls, for counflors.