Puslapio vaizdai

As Dian's vifage, is now begrim'd and black
As mine own face. If there be cords or knives,
Poifon, or fire, or fuffocating ftreams,

I'll not endure it. Would I were fatisfied!


Othello's Speech after having receiv'd 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 will return to Venice-Hence, avant! [Ex. Des.
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 swear it; damn thy felf, left being like


Of heav'n, the devils themselves fhould fear to fieze thee, Therefore be double-damn'd; fwear thou art honeft. 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, Defdemona, away, away, away. Def. Alas the heavy day! why do you weep? Am I the motive of these 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,

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;
Given to captivity me and my hopes;

I fhould have found in fome Place of my foul
A drop of patience. But alas, to make me
A fixed figure for the hand of fcorn

To point his flow un-moving finger at
Yet could I bear that, too, well, very well :
But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,
Where either I muft 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



(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 bell, horrible as a fiend, and unlike thyself, a young and rofe-lip'd cherubin." This is a natural and fine fenfe, and thus the words come neareft thofe found in the old editions: the Oxford editor reads,

There, there look grim as hell.


Patience, thou young and rofe-lip'd cherubin,

Ay, there look grim as hell.

Def. I hope my noble lord esteems me honeft.

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 fmell'ft so sweet, That the fenfe akes at thee;

Would thou had'ft 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 should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cynders burn up modesty,

Did I but speak thy deeds. What, what committed ?
Heav'n ftops the nofe at it, and the moon winks
The bawdy wind, that kiffes all it meets,

Is hufh'd within the hollow mine of earth,

And will not hear't. What, committed? impudent ftrumpet !

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

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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 te fmell, but also deft really fell fo feet that, c.

Def. Oh, heav'n forgive us.

Oth. I cry you mercy, then.

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

SCENE XI. Defdemona's Faithfulness.

Alas! Iago.

What shall 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 fenfe
Delighted them on any other form ;
Or that I do not yet, and ever did,

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

But never taint my love.

(12) See page 60 preceding.


Quoties tentamina noftra 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 1 guard this fpotless breaft,
To one, where'er he is, from me disjoyn'd,
The wishes of my foul are all confin'd.




A Bed-chamber: Defdemona is difcover'd afleep in her Bed.

Enter Othello with a light and a feword.
Oth. It is the caufe, it is the cause, my soul;
Let me not name it to you, ye chast stars,
It is the caufe.-Yet I'll not fhed her blood,
Nor fear that whiter skin of hers than fnow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster:

[Lays down the fword.

Yet fhe muft 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 rose,

[Sets down the taper.

I cannot give it vital growth again;

It needs muft wither.. -I'll fmell thee on the tree.

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[Kiffing her.

O balmy breath, that doft almost perfuade
Juftice to break her sword. One more, one more;
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after. One more, and that's the laft;
So fweet, was ne'er fo fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears: this forrow's heav'nly;
It ftrikes, where it doth love.

(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 is most univerfally received,, but also feems to be most worthy Shakespear.

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