Puslapio vaizdai

As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black
As mine own face. If there be cords or knives,
Poison, or fire, or fuffocating streams,
I'll not endure it. Would I were fatisfied !

ACTIV. SCENE VI. Othello's Speech after having receiv’d the Mandate,

when confirm'd in his Suspicions. Ay! you

did wish that I would make her turn : Sir, she can turn and turn, and yet go on, And turn again. And she can weep, Sir, weep; And she's obedient : as you say obedient; Very obedient-proceed you in your tears-Concerning this, Sir-oh well painted paffion! I am commanded home-get you away, I'll send for you anon-Sir, I obey the mandate, And will return to Venice-Hence, avant ! [Ex. Der. Callio fhall have my place. And, Sir, to night I do entreat, that we may sup 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 self, left being like


Of heav'n, the devils themselves fhould fear to fieze thee,
Therefore be double-damn'd ; swear thou art honest.

Def. Heaven doth truly know it.

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Oth. Heaven truly knows, That thou art false as hell.

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

Oth. Ah, Desdemona, 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 fufpe&t,
An instrument of this your calling back,
Lay not your blame on me; if you have lost him,
Why I have lost him too.

Otb. Had it pleas'd heaven,
To try me with amiction, had he rain'd
All kind of fores, and sames on my bare head,
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips ;
Given to captivity me and my hopes ;
I should have found in some Place of my

A drop of patience. But alas, to make me
A fixed figure for the hand of scorn
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 must live, or bear no life,
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up, to be discarded thence ;
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads
To knot and gender in; (io) Turn thy complexion

(10) Turn, &c.] i. e. Patience, thou young, &c. there, [upon the
fight of that, a light so shocking and intolerable] turn ily com-
plexion--- 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 rose-lip'd cherubin." This is a natural and fine sense, and thus
the words come nearest those found in the old editions the Ox-
ford editor reads,
There, there look grim as hell,


Patience, thou young and rose lip'd cherubin,
Ay, there look grim as hell.

Def. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.

Oth. Oh, ay, as summer-flies are in the shambles, That quicken even with blowing. (1) O thou weed! Who art so lovely fair, and smell'it so sweet, That the sense akes at thee; Would thou had'st ne'er been born!

Def. Alas! what ignorant fin have I committed ?

Oth. Was this fair paper, this most 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 stops the nose at it, and the moon winks ; The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets, Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth, And will not hear't. What, committed ? impudent

strumpet ! Def. By heaven



me wrong Oth. Are not you a strumpet ?

Def. No, as I am a christian.
If to preserve this vessel for my lord


other foul, unlawful touch, Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.

Oth. What, not a whore ?
Def. No, as I shall be saved.
Orb. Is't poflible?

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And Mr. Warburton,

Turn thy complexion thence,-

'I here look grim as hell, (11) O thou, &c] This passage seems to need no alteration :

Oh thou weed-o-who art not only fo lovely fair, inviting us to (mell, but also doft really smell so sweet that, &c.

Des. 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. Desdemona's Faithfulness.

Alas! Jago. What Ihall I do to win my lord again ? Good friend, go to him ; for by this light of heav'n, I know not how I loit him.(12)Here I kneel ; [Kneeling If e'er my will did trespass '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, And ever will, though he do Make me off To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly, Comfort forswear me, Unkindness may do much, And his unkindness


defeat But never taint



my life,

(12) See page 60 preceding.

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

Ovid. Met. Li 7.
Her answer was, oft as my suit I press'd,
For one alone l guard this spotless breast,
To one, where'er he is, from me disjoyn'd,
The wishes of my soul are all confin'd.



A Bed-chamber : Desdemona is discover'd asleep in

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

[Lays down the sword.
Yet fhe must die, else she'll betray more men:
(13) Put out the light, and then put out the light.
If I quench thee thou flaming minifter,
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. [Sets down the taper.
When I have pluck'd thy rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again ;
It needs muft wither. I'll smell thee on the tree.

[Killing her. O balmy breath, that doft almost persuade Justice 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 last; So sweet, was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, * But they are cruel tears: this forrow's heav'nly; It strikes, where it doth love.

(13) Put out, &c.] The present passage hath been much criticised upon, and is so generally known and talk'd of, there remains little to be said concerning it: I shall therefore only add, the manner of reading it, which I have adopted, not only is most universally received,, but also seems to be most worthy Shakespear.

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