Puslapio vaizdai

SCENÉ VII. Othello's Confusion, after having

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

wife ;

His Love for ber.
Had the 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 Remorse. Lo! I have a weapon: * A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldier'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 Falfhood there is exactly the fame expression, whether Sbakespear's, or introduc'd by Thečbald, I cannot pronounce, Wear I no

a sword ?
Ne'er op man's thigh rode better,

A. 3. S. 3.


Who can controul his fate? 'tis not so now.
Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon’d ;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
And very sea-mark of my utmost fail.
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 curfed flave!
Whip me, ye devils,
From the possession of this heav'nly fight;
* Blow me about in winds, roast me in fulphur,
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire
Oh Desdemona! De demona! dead, dead ! oh, oh!

SCENE X. His laft 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 set 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) Judeân, threw a pearl away




* See Measure for Measure, p 52, 53, 54;.

(14) Yudean.] The elder quarto gives us Iudian, it was easy for the e to have been chang'd into an i ;-Like tbě băfe lūdē án-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

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 besides, 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 circumcised 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, publith'd a tragedy calld Mariam, the fair queen of Jewry. Mr. Upton prefers like the base Ægyptian ; which Ægyptian he tells us, was Tbyamis, mentioned in the romance of Tbeagenes and Cbariclea, written by Heliodorus. The reader, if he thinks proper, may see his arguments in support of this emendation in his Observations, .p: 268.

The beauties of this play are fo 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 Life and Death of King




REPUTATION (1:1 HE purest treasure mortal times afford,

Is spoilefs 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. Barishment, Consolation under it.

(2) All places that the eye of heaven visits,
Are to a wise 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 sent thee forth to purchase honour,
And not, the king exil'd thee. Or suppose,
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
And thou art flying to a fresher clime.

(1) See Orbello, p. 165.

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

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

S. R. F.infarve.


Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
To lye that way thou go'it, not whence thou com'ft..
Suppose the finging birds, musicians ;
The grass 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 sets it light.

Thoughts, ineffettual to moderate Afflictions

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


Our felf, and Bufhy Bagot, here, and Green,
Observ bis 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.s

-men bid, God speed him well!
And had the tribute of his supple knee :
With,- Thanks my countrymen, my loving friends


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