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SCENE VII. Othello's Confufion, after having murder'd bis Wife.

Yes, 'tis Æmilia-by and by-she's dead. "Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death; The noise was high. Ha, no more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? wer't good? I think she stirs again - No-what's the best? If she come in, she'll fure speak to my wife; My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife. Oh insupportable! oh heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of fun and moon, and that th' affrighted globe Should yawn at alteration.

His Love for ber...

Had she been true,

If heav'n would make me such another world,
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,

I'd not have fold her for it

SCENE IX. His bitter Remorses

Lo! I have a weapon:

* A better never did itself sustain

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Upon a foldier's thigh. I've seen the day,
That with this little arm, and this good sword,
I've made my way through more impediments,
Than twenty times your ftop. But, oh vain boaft!

* A better, &c.] In the Double Falshood there is exactly the fame expreffion, whether Shakespear's, or introduc'd by Theobald, I cannot pronounce,

Wear I not a sword?

Ne'er on man's thigh rode better.

A. 3. S. 3.

Who

Who can controul his fate? 'tis not so now.
Be not afraid, though you do fee me weapon'd;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
And very fea-mark of my utmost sail.
Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a loft fear:
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
And he retires: Where should Othello go?

Now how dost thou look now? Oh ill-starr'd

wench !

Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heav'n,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl ?
E'en like thy chastity. O cursed slave!
Whip me, ye devils,

From the possession of this heav'nly fight;
* Blow me about in winds, roaft me in fulphur,
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire-
Oh Defdemona! Desdemona! dead, dead! oh, oh!

SCENE X. His last Speech.

Soft you; a word or two before you go, I have done the state some service, and they know it; No more of that. I pray you in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me, as I am nothing extenuate, Nor fet down ought in malice. Then must you speak Of one that lov'd not wisely, but too well; Of one, not easily jealous, but being wrought, Perplex'd in the extream; of one, whose hand, Like the base (14) Judean, threw a pearl away

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* See Measure for Measure, p 52, 53, 54. (14) Judean.] The elder quarto gives us Iudian, it was easy for the e to have been chang'd into an i;-Like the base Iūdēān-so pronounc'd the line will run very well; and I suppose, he alludes to the well-known story of Herod and Mariamne his wife; in some

circum

Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose eyes,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinal gum. Set you down this.
And lay befides, that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant, and a turban'd turk
Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state,
I took by the throat the circumcifed dog,
And smote him, thus.

[Stabs himself.

circumstances not unlike this of Othello and Desdemona, for both husbands lov'd violently, both were jealous, both were the occafion of their wives deaths; besides, the word Tribe, seems wholly to confirm this reading. and in support of it we may add, that in the year 1613, the lady Elizabeth Carew, publifh'd a tragedy call'd Mariam, the fair queen of Jewry." Mr. Upton prefers like the base Ægyptian; which Ægyptian he tells us, was Thyamis, mentioned in the romance of Theagenes and Chariclea, written by Heliodorus. The reader, if he thinks proper, may fee his arguments in support of this emendation in his Obfervations, p. 268.

The beauties of this play are so peculiarly Shakespear's own, little can be produced from other writers to compare with them; there are many excellencies, which could not be introduced in this work, depending on circumstances, so nicely adapted, no reader can relish them extracted from the tragedy, which is itself one compleat beauty.

The

The Life and Death of King RICHARD II.

(1)

HT

ACTI. SCENE II...
REPUTATION.

HE pureft treasure mortal times afford,
Is spotless reputation: that away,

Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.

SCENE III. COWARDICE.

That which in mean men we entitle patience, Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.

SCENE VI. Banishment, Confolation under it.
(2) All places that the eye of heaven visits,
A're to a wife man ports and happy havens.
Teach thy necessity to reason thus:
There is no virtue like necessity

And think not, that the king did banish thee;
But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier fit
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
Go say, I fent thee forth to purchase honour,
And not, the king exil'd thee. Or suppose,
Devouring peftilence hangs in our air,
And thou art flying to a fresher clime.

(1) See Othello, p. 165.

(2) All, &c.] Similar to this is the beginning of the 5th act of Paftor Fido.

All places are our country, where we're well,
Which to the wife, is wheresoe'er they dwell.

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Look, what thy foul holds dear, imagine it
To lye that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'ft..
Suppose the singing birds, musicians;

The grafs whereon thou tread'ft, the presence-floor ;
The flow'rs, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more.
Than a delightful measure, or a dance.
For gnarling forrow hath less pow'r to bite
The man, that mocks at it, and fets it light.

Thoughts, ineffectual to moderate Afflictions..

Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucafus ?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,..
By bare imagination of a feast?
Or wallow naked in December snow,
By thinking on fantastick summer's heat??
Oh, no, the apprehenfion of the good
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse;
Fell forrow's tooth doth never rankle more
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the fore..

SCENE VII. POPULARITY.

Our felf, and Bushy Bagot, here, and Green, Obferv'd his courtship to the common people; How he did seem to dive into their hearts, With humble and familiar courtesy, What reverence he did throw away on slaves; Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles,, And patient under-bearing of his fortune: As 'twere to banish their affects with him. Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench : A brace of dray-men bid, God speed him well! And had the tribute of his fupple knee : With, - Thanks my countrymen, my loving friends;

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