The king-has gone beyond me;-all my glories- To be thy lord-and master: seek the king; (That sun,-I pray,—may never set!) I have told him— What-and how true thou art: he-will advance thee; Some little memory-of me-will stir him, (I know-his noble nature,) not to let Thy hopeful service-perish-too. Good Cromwell,- Crom. O my lord! Must I-then-leave you? must I needs forego• So good,—so noble,—and so true a master ? Bear witness,—all—th't have not hearts of iron,— Wol. Cromwell, I did not think—to shed a tear— Let's dry our eyes: and thus far—hear me— —(Cromwell:) And sleep-in dull-cold marble,—where no mention Still (in thy right hand)-carry gentle peace,— To silence-envious tongues. Be just-and fear not. Let all the ends-thou aim'st at-be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's: then-if-thou fall'st,—(O Cromwell 1) Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! Serve the king; And, −(Prithee,—lead me in :) There, take an inventory-of all I have,— (To the last penny;) 't is the king's: my robe,— And my integrity—to heaven,—is all— I dare (now)— call my own. O Cromwell,―(Cromwell!) I served my king,-he-would not (in mine age)— So-I have. Farewell Crom. Good sir,-have patience. XXIV.-OTHELLO'S APOLOGY. SHAKESPEARE. Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you— Against the general enemy Ottoman. I did not see you; welcome gentle signior: [To Brabantio. We lack'd your counsel-and your help-to-night. Brabantio. So did I-yours. Good your grace, pardon me; Neither my place, nor aught—I heard of business,— Hath raised me—from my bed; nor-doth the general care She is abused, stoľ'n from me,—and corrupted— Being not deficient,—blind,— —or lame of sense,— Duke. Whoe'er he be th't (in this foul proceeding) Bra. Humbly-I thank your grace. Here is the man, this Moor; whom now,—(it seems,) Your special mandate, (for the state affairs,) Hath hither brought. Duke and Sen. We are very sorry for it. Duke. What (in your own part) can you say to this? Othello. Most potent,—grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble—and approved-good masters,— Th't I have ta'en away-this old man's daughter— It is most true; true-I have married her: The very head-and front-of my offending— Hath this-extent,—no more. Rude am I-in my speech, [Exeunt. [To Othello. (Till now some nine moons wasted,) they have used And little of this great world—can I speak- In speaking-for myself. Yet, (by your gracious patience,) I will a round—unvarnish'd tale deliver Of my whole course of love; what drugs,—what charms, Of spirit-so still-and quiet-th't her motion Why this should be. I therefore-vouch again Duke. Oth. I do beseech you Oth. Ancient,-conduct them; you-best know the place. And-till she come, as truly-as to heaven- Duke. Say it,-Othello. [Exeunt Iago, etc. Oth. Her father-loved me; oft invited me; From year to year ;—the battles,—sieges,—fortunes,— I ran it through,—even-from my boyish days,— To the very moment-th't he bade me tell it. Of moving accidents-by flood-and field; Of hair-breadth 'scapes-i' the imminent deadly breach; Of being taken-by the insolent foe And sold to slavery;—of my redemption thence, And portance. In my traveler's history, (Wherein of antres vast-and deserts idle, Rough quarries,―rocks,—and hills-whose heads-touch heaven, It was my hint to speak,)—such—was my process; And of the Cannibals-that each other eat, The Anthropophagi,—and men-whose heads Do grow-beneath their shoulders. These things to hear- But still the house affairs-would draw her thence; And often-did beguile her—of her tears, When I did speak-of some distressful stroke- She swore,-In faith, 't was strange, 't was passing strange; She wish'd-she had not heard it; yet—she wish'd— Th't Heaven-had made her-such a man: she thank'd me; And bade me,-if I had a friend—that loved her, I should but teach him-how to tell my story And that would woo her. Upon this hint-I spake: She loved me-for the dangers I had pass'd; [Enter Desdemona, Iago, and attendants. Duke. I think-this tale-would win my daughter too. Good Brabantio,— Take up-this mangled matter—at the best: Bra. I pray you—hear her speak; Light on the man! Come hither, (gentle mistress :) Where most-you owe obedience? I do perceive-here—a divided duty: To you I am bound-for life,-and education; How-to respect you; you-are the lord-of duty ;— —(hitherto)—your daughter: But-here's-my husband; I am And so much duty—as my mother—show'd To you, (preferring you-before her father,) Bra. God-be with you!—I have done. Please it-your grace,-on-to the state affairs: I here-do give thee that—(with all my heart) Which,-(but thou hast-already,) with all my heart- I am glad at soul-I have no other child; For thy escape-would teach me tyranny, To hang clogs on them. I have done,—my lord. Duke. Let me speak-like yourself, and lay a sentence- By seeing the worst,—which late-on hopes-depended. Is the next way-to draw new mischief on. What can not be preserved—when fortune takes,— The robb'd—that smiles steals something-from the thief; XXV.-CLARENCE'S DREAM. SHAKESPEARE. Brakenbury. Why looks your grace-so heavily-to-day? So full of ugly sights,-of ghastly dreams, That,-(as I am a Christian-faithful man,) I would not spend-another such a night, Though 't were to buy a world-of happy days;— So full-of dismal terror-was the time! Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray you tell me. Clar. Methought-th't I had broken from the Tower, And was embark'd-to cross to Burgundy; |