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kerchief-I tremble at it-Nature would not inveft herself in fuch fhadowing without some induction-It is not words that shake me thus--pish-nofes

ears and lips-is't poffible-confefs-handkerchief-Oh devil

SCENE V. Othello's exceffive Fondness of his
Wife.

A fine woman! a fair woman! a fweet woman!
Iago. Nay, you must forget that.

Oth. Ay, let her rot and perish and be damn'd tonight, for the fhall not live. No, my heart is turn'd to ftone: I ftrike it, and it hurts my hand-Oh, the world hath not a sweeter creature- -She might lie by an emperor's fide and command him tasks.

Iago. Nay, that's not your way.

Oth. Hang her, I do but fay what fhe isfo delicate with her needle-an admirable mufician- -Oh, fhe will fing the favageness out of a bear: of fo high and plenteous wit and invention!

lago. She's the worse for all this.

Oth. Oh, a thousand, a thousand times: and then of fo gentle condition!

Iago. Ay, too gentle.

Oth. Nay, that's certain--but yet the pity of it, Iago-Oh, Iago, the pity of it.

SCENE VI. Othello's Speech, after having received the Mandate when confirm'd in his Sufpicions.

Ay! you did wish that I would make her turn;
Sir, fhe can turn and turn, and yet go on,
And turn again. And the can weep, Sir, weep;
And she's obedient: as you fay obedient;
Very obedient-proceed you in your tears-
Concerning this, Sir-oh well painted paffion!-
I am commanded home-get you away,
I'll fend for you anon-Sir, I obey the mandate,

And

And will return to Venice-Hence, avant! [Ex. D‹ƒ,
Caffio fhall have my place, And, Sir, to-night
I do entreat, that we may fup together.
You are welcome, Sir, to Cyprus———
Goats and monkies!

[Exit Othello.

SCENE IX. His pathetic Upbraiding of his Wife.

Def. Upon my knee, what doth your speech import? I understand a fury in your words, But not your words.

Oth. Why? what art thou?

Def. Your wife, my lord; your true and loyal wife. Oth. Come fwear it; damn thyfelf, left being like one Of heav'n, the devils themselves should fear to feize thee, Therefore be double-damn'd; fwear thou art honest. Def. Heaven doth truly know it. Oth. Heaven truly knows, That thou art falfe as hell.

Def. To whom, my lord? With whom? How am I falfe?

Oth. Ah, Desdemona, away, away, away
Def. Alas the heavy day! why do you weep?
Am I the motive of thefe tears, my lord?
If haply you my father do fufpect,
An inftrument of this your calling back,
Lay not your blame on me; if you have loft him,
Why I have loft him too.

Oth. Had it pleas'd heaven,

my

foul

To try me with affliction, had he rain'd
All kind of fores and fhames on my bare head,
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips;
Giv'n to captivity me and my hopes;
I fhould have found in fome place of
A drop of patience. But alas, to make me
A fixed figure for the hand of scorn
To point his flow, unmoving finger at
Yet could I bear that too, well, very
well:
But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,

Where

Where either I must live, or bear no life,
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or elfe dries up, to be discarded thence;
Or keep it as a ciftern, for foul toads

To knot and gender in; (10) Turn thy complexion there,

Patience, thou young and rofe-lipp'd cherubin,
Ay, there look grim as hell.

Def. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.
Oth. Oh, ay, as fummer-flies are in the shambles,
That quicken even with blowing. (11) O thou weed!
Who art fo lovely fair, and smell'ft fo fweet,

That the fenfe akes at thee;

Would thou hadst ne'er been born!

Def. Alas! what ignorant fin have I committed? Oth. Was this fair paper, this moft goodly book, Made to write whore upon? what, what committed ? Committed? Oh, thou public commoner,

I fhould make very forges of my cheeks
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but fpeak thy deeds. What, what committed ?
Heav'n ftops the nose at it, and the moon winks;
The bawdy wind that kiffes all it meets,
Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,

And

(10) Turn, &c.] i. e. Patience, thou young, &c. there, [upon the fight of that, a fight fo fhocking and intolerable] turn thy complexion-Ay, do more than that, not only turn thy complexion but look grim as hell, horrible as a fiend, and unlike thyself, a young and rofe-lipp'd cherubin." This is a natural and fine fenfe, and thus the words come nearest those found in the old editions: the Oxford editor reads,

There, there look grim as hell.

And Mr. Warburton,

Turn thy complexion thence,-
I here look grim as hell.

(11) O thou, &c.] This paffage feems to need no alteration: "Oh thou weed-who art not only fo lovely fair, inviting us to smell, but also doft really smell so sweet that, Sc.

VOL. III.

L

And will not hear't.
ftrumpet!
Def. By heaven you do me wrong.
Oth. Are not you a ftrumpet?
Def. No, as I am a christian.
If to preferve this veffel for my lord
From any other foul, unlawful touch,
Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.
Oth. What, not a whore?
Def. No, as I fhall be faved.
Oth. Is't poffible?

Def. Oh, heav'n forgive us.
Oth. I cry your mercy, then.

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello.

What committed? impudent

SCENE XI. Defdemona's Faithfulness.

Alas, Iago!

What fhall I do to win my lord again?
Good friend go to him; for by this light of heav'n,
I know not how I loft him. (12) Here I kneel;

[Kneeling.

If e'er my will did trefpafs 'gainst his love,
Or in discourse or thought, or actual deed;
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense
Delighted them on any other form;
Or that I do not yet and ever did,

(12) See p. 76, preceding.

-Quoties tentamina nofira pudici
Reppulerint mores: quoties ego, dixerit, uni
Servor, ubicunque eft; uni mea gaudia fervo.

Ovid. Met. L. 7.

Her answer was, oft as my fuit I prefs'd,
For one alone I guard this fpotless breast,
To one, where'er he is, from me disjoin'd,
The wishes of my foul are all confin’d.

And

Pope.

And ever will, though he do shake me off
To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly,
Comfort forfwear me. Unkindness may do much,
And his unkindness may defeat my life,
taint my love.

But never

ACT V. SCENE VI.

A Bed-chamber: Defdemona is difcovered afleep

in her Bed.

Enter Othello, with a light and a fword.

Oth. It is the cause, it is the cause, my foul:
Let me not name it to you, ye chaste stars,
It is the cause.~Yet I'll not shed her blood,
Nor fear that whiter skin of hers than fnow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster:

[Lays down the fword. Yet she must die, elfe fhe'll betray more men: (13) Put out the light, and then-put out the light. If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent; but once put out thy light, Thou cunning'ft pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat, That can thy light re-lumine. When I have pluck'd thy rofe, I cannot give it vital growth again; It needs muft wither.

[Sets down the taper.

-I'll fmell thee on the tree.

O balmy breath, that doft almoft perfuade

[Kiffing her.

Juftice

(13) Put out, &c.] The prefent paffage hath been much criticifed upon, and is fo generally known and talk'd of, there remains little to be faid concerning it: I fhall therefore only add the manner of reading it, which I have adopted, not only as moft univerfally received, but it alfo feems to be most worthy of Shakespear. L 2