Capt. A. This is reason and moderation, indeed! Sir A. None of your sneering, puppy! no grinning, jackanapes! Capt. A. Indeed, sir, I never was in a worse humor for mirth in my life. Sir A. Tis false, sir; I know you are laughing in your sleeve; I know you'll grin when I am gone, sirrah! Capt. A. Sir, I hope I know my duty better. Sir A. None of your passion, sir! none of your violence, if you please; it won't do with me, I promise you. Capt. A. Indeed, sir, I never was cooler in my life. Sir A. 'Tis a confounded lie! I know you are in a passion in your heart; I know you are a hypocritical young dog; but it won't do. word,— Capt. A. Nay, sir, upon my Sir A. So you will fly out! Can't you be cool, like me? What good can passion do? Passion is of no service, you impudent, insolent, overbearing reprobate! There, you sneer again! Don't provoke me! But you rely on the mildness of my temper, you do, you dog! You play upon the meekness of my disposition! Yet take care; the patience of a saint may be overcome at last! But mark! I give you six hours and a half to consider of this; if you then agree, without any condition, to do every thing on earth that I choose, why, confound you! I may in time forgive you. If not, don't enter the same hemisphere with me! don't dare to breathe the same air, or use the same light with me; but get an atmosphere and a sun of your own: I'll strip you of your commission: I'll lodge a five-and-three-pence in the hands of your trustees, and you shall live on the interest. I'll disown you; I'll disinherit you; and hang me, if ever I call you Jack again! [Erit.] Capt. A. Mild, gentle, considerate father, I kiss your hands. Ex. CCXLVIII.-SCENE FROM THE MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM SHAKSPEARE. SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, QUINCE, and STARVELING. Quin. Is all your company here? Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip. Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and duchess, on his wedding-day at night. Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point. Quin. Marry, our play is,―The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby. Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll:-masters, spread yourselves. Quin. Answer, as I call you.-Nick Bottom, the weaver! Bot. Ready!-Name what part I am for, and proceed. Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love. Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it. If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some measure. To the rest-Yet my chief humor is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split. "The raging rocks, With shivering shocks, And make and mar The foolish fates." This was lofty!-Now name the rest of the players.-This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is more condoling. Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. Flu. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. You must take Thisby on you. Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight? Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love. Flu. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard a coming. Quin. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask; and you may speak as small as you will. Bot. An' I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too: I'll speak in a monstrous little voice;-Thisby, Thisby,—Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy Thisby dear! and lady dear! Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus;-and, Flute, you Thisby. Bot. Well, proceed. Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor! Star. Here, Peter Quince! Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother.— Tom Snout, the tinker! Snout. Here, Peter Quince! Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thisby's father;Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part; and, I hope, here is a play fitted. Snug. Have you the lion's part written? Pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring. Bot. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar that I will make the duke say, Let him roar again. Let him roar again. Quin. An' you should do it too terribly, you would fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were enough to hang us all. All. That would hang us every mother's son. Bot. I grant you, friends, that if you should fright the la dies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us; but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you an 't were any nightingale. Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus: for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's day; a most lovely, gentleman-like man; therefore you must needs play Pyramus. Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in? Quin. Why, what you will. Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw-colored beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French crown-color beard, your perfect yellow. Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare-faced. But, masters, here are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night; and meet me in the palace-wood, a mile without the town, by moon-light; there will we rehearse; for if we meet in the city, we shall be dogged with company, and our devices known. In the mean time, I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not. Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse more courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu. Quin. At the duke's oak we meet. Bot. Enough; "Hold, or cut bow-strings." Ex. CCXLIX.-OTHELLO AND IAGO. Jugo. My noble lord Othello. What dost thou say, Iago? SHAKSPEARE. Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you wooed my lady, Oth. He did, from first to last. Why dost thou ask? No further harm. Oth. Why of thy 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.-Discernest thou aught in that? Is he not honest ? Iago. Honest, my lord? Oth. Ay, honest. Tago. My lord, for aught I know. Oth. What dost thou think? Iago. Think, my lord? Oth. Think, my lord! Why, thou dost echo 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, "I like not that," When Cassius left my wife. What didst not like? In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst, "Indeed!” As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me, Iago. My lord, you know I love you. And for I know thou art full of love and honesty, For such things, in a false, disloyal knave, 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. Oth. I think so too. Iago. Men should be what they seem; Or, those that be not, 'would they might seem none ! Iago. Why, then, I think that Cassio is an honest mal. 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 net bound to that all slaves are free to. Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false,As where's that palace, whereinto foul things Sometimes intrude not? * * * Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, Iago. 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 * * * * 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; Robs me of that which not enriches him, |