The chiding billows feem to pelt the clouds; The wind-fhak'd furge, with high and monstrous main, Seems to caft water on the burning Bear, 7 And quench the guards of th' ever-fixed pole. I never did like moleftation view On the enchafed flood. Mont. If that the Turkish fleet Be not infhelter'd and embay'd, they're drown'd; 3 Gent. News, Lads, our wars are done : The defperate tempeft hath fo bang'd the Turks, That their defignment halts: A noble fhip of Venice Hath feen a grievous wreck and fafferance Of moft part of the fleet. Mont. How is this true? 3. Gent. The fhip is here put in, A Veronefe; Michael Caffio, Lieutenant of the warlike Moor Othello, Is come on fhore; the Moor himself's at fea Mont. I'm glad on't; 'tis a worthy Governor. 3 Gent. But this fame Caffio, though he fpeak of comfort Touching the Turkish lofs, yet he looks fadly, 7 And quench the guard of th' ever fixed fole.] Alluding to the Bar Arophylax. A a 2 Mont Mont. Pray heav'ns, he be : For I have ferv'd him, and the man commands As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello, Gent. Come, let's do fo; For every minute is expectancy Caf. Thanks to the valiant of this warlike ifle, That so approve the Moor: oh, let the heav'ns Give him defence against the elements, For I have loft him on a dangerous sea. Mont. Is he well-shipp'd? 8 Caf. His bark is ftoutly timber'd; and his pilot very expert and approv'd allowance; 9 Of Caf. What noife? Gent. The town is empty; on the brow o' th' fea Stand ranks of people, and they cry, a fail. Caf. My hopes do fhape him for the Governor. Gent. They do discharge their fhot of courtesy. Our friends, at least. [Sound of Cannon. Caf. I pray you, Sir, go forth, And give us truth who 'tis that is arriv’d. Gent. I fhall. [Exit. Mont. But, good lieutenant, is your General wiv'd? Caf. Most fortunately: He hath atchiev'd a maid That paragons description and wild fame; One that excels the quirks of blaz'ning pens, And in th' effential vefture of creation 2 Does bear all excellency I do not think the prefent reading inexplicable. The authour feems to ufe effential, for, exiftent, real. She excels the praises of invention, fays he, and in real qualities, with which creation has invested her, bears all excellency. And in th' ESSENTIAL ve That all created excellence ture of creation. fhould be contained within' an Does bear all excellency] It earthly mortal form. WARB. is plain that fomething very hyperbolical was here intended. But what is there as it ftands? Why this, that in the effence of creation he bore all excellency. The expreffion is intolerable, and could never come from one who fo well understood the force of words as our Poet. The effential vefture is the fame as effential form. So that the expreffion is nonfenfe. For the vefture of creation fignifies the forms in which created beings are caft. And ef fence relates not to the form, but to the matter. Shakespear certainly wrote, And in TERRESTRIAL velure of creation. And in this lay the wonder, 2 Does bear all excellency- -] Such is the reading of the quartos, for which the folio has this. And in th' effential vefture of creation Do's tyre the ingeniuer. Does tire th' ingenious verse, This is the beft reading, and that which the authour fubftituted in his revifal, SCENE IV. Enter Gentleman. How now? who has put in? Gent. 'Tis one Iago, Ancient to the General. Caf. H'as had moft favourable and happy speed; Tempests themselves, high feas, and howling winds; The gutter'd rocks, and congregated fands, Traitors enfteep'd to clog the guiltless keel; As having fenfe of beauty, do omit L Their mortal natures, letting fafe go by Mont. What is she ? Caf. She that I spake of, our great Captain's Captain, Left in the conduct of the bold Iago: Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts, Enter Desdemona, Iago, Rodorigo, and Æmilia. O behold! The riches of the fhip is come on fhore. Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. Def Def. I thank you, valiant Caffio. [Sound of Cannon. Gent. They give this greeting to the Citadel: This likewife is a friend. Caf. See for the news. Good Ancient, you are welcome. Welcome, mistress. [To Æmilia. Let it not gall your patience, good Iago, That I extend my manners. 'Tis my breeding, That gives me this bold fhew of courtefy. [Kifles ber. Iago. Sir, would she give you so much of her lips, As of her tongue fhe oft bestows on me, You'd have enough. Def. Alas! fhe has no fpeech. Iago. In faith, too much; I find it ftill, when I have lift to fleep. Emil. You have little cause to say so. Iago. Come on, come on; you're pictures out of doors, Bells in your parlours, wild-cats in your kitchens, 3 Saints in your injuries, devils being offended, Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds! Def. O, fy upon thee, flanderer! Iago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk; You rife to play, and go to bed to work. 3 When you have a mind to do injuries, you put on an air of fanctity. |