Oth. Give me a living reafon fhe's difloyal. But fince I'm entred in this cause so far, I will go on. There are a kind of men, fo loose of foul, In fleep I heard him fay, "Sweet Desdemona, And then, Sir, would he gripe, and wring my hand; "Oh fweet creature!" and then kifs me hard, Cry As if he pluckt up kiffes by the roots, That grew upon my lips; then lay his leg Iago. Nay, this was but his dream. Oth. But this denoted a fore gone conclufion; 'Tis a fhrewd doubt, tho' it be but a dream. Iago. And this may help to thicken other proofs, That do demonftrate thinly. Oth. I'll tear her all to pieces. Iago. Nay, but be wife; yet we fee nothing done ; She may be honeft yet. Tell me but this, Have you not sometimes feen a handkerchief, Spotted with ftrawberries in your wife's hand ? Oth. I gave her fuch a one; 'twas my firft gift. Iago. I know not that; but fuch a handkerchief, (I'm fure, it was your wife's,) did I to day See Caffio wipe his beard with. Oth. If it be that Iago. If it be that, or any, if 'twas hers, It fpeaks against her with the other proofs. Oth. Oh, that the flave had forty thousand lives! One is too poor, too weak for my Revenge. Now do I fee, 'tis true.. Look here, lago, fond love thus do I blow to heav'n: A my 'Tis gone; -- Arife, black vengeance, from the hollow hell! Iago. Yet be content. Oth. Oh blood, blood, blood Iago. Patience, I fay; your mind, perhaps, may change. Oth. Never, Iage. Like to the Pontick Sea, Even fo my bloody thoughts with violent pace Swallow them up.- Now, by yond marble heav'n, In the due rev'rence of a facred vow I here engage my words Iago. Do not rife yet: Witnefs, you ever-burning lights above! You elements, that clip us round about! 'The execution of his wit, hands, heart, [He kneels. [Iago kneels. To wrong'd Othello's fervice. Let him command, (23) Nor, to obey, shall be in me Remorse, What bloody bufinefs ever. Oth. I greet thy love, (23) Let him command, And to obey shall be in me Remorse, What bloody Business ever.] Thus all the old Copies, to the manifest Depravation of the Poet's Sense. Mr. Pope has attempted an Emendation, but with his old Luck and Dexterity. Not to obey shall be in me Remorse, &c. I read, with the Change only of a fingle Letter; Nor, to obey, fhall be in me Remorse, &c. i. e. Let your Commands be ever fo bloody, Remorfe and Compaffion shall not reftrain me from obeying them. Not Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, Iago. My friend is dead; 'Tis done at your requeft. But, let her live. Oth. Damn her, lewd Minx! oh, damn her, damn her! Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw To furnish me with fome fwift means of death [Exeunt. SCENE, another Apartment in the Palace. Enter Desdemona, Emilia, and Clown. DefDo you know, firrah, where Lieutenant Cassis Clown. I dare not fay, he lies Def. Why, man? any where. Clown. He's a foldier; and for me to fay, a foldier lies, 'tis ftabbing. Def. Go to; where lodges he? Clown. To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie. Def. Can any thing be made of this? Clown. I know not where he lodges; and for me to devise a lodging, and fay, he lies here, or he lies there, were to lie in mine own throat. Def. Can you enquire him out? and be edified by report? Clown. I will catechize the world for him; that is, make questions, and bid them answer. (24) (24) Clown. I will catechize the World for him ; Def. That is, make Questions, and by them answer.] This Clown is a Fool to fome purpose. He was to go feek N 5 Def. Seek him, bid him come hither; tell him, I ́ have mov'd my lord on his behalf, and hope, all will be well. Clown. To do this is within the compafs of man's wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing of it. [Exit Clown. Def. Where fhould I lose that handkerchief, Emilia? Emil. I know not, Madam. Def. Believe me, I had rather have loft my purse Full of Cruzadoes. And but my noble Moor Is true of mind, and made of no fuch baseness As jealous creatures are, it were enough Emil. Is he not jealous? Def. Who, he? I think, the Sun, where he was born, Drew all fuch humours from him. Emil. Look, where he comes. Def. I will not leave him now, till Caffio be Call'd to him. How is it with you, my lord? Enter Othello. Oth. Well, my good lady. Oh, hardness to dif femble! How do you, Desdemona ? Def. Well, my Lord. Oth. Give me your hand; this hand is moift, my Lady. Def. It yet hath felt no age, nor known no forrow. For here's a young and fweating devil here, for One; he fays, he will ask for him, and by his own Que ftions make Anfwer. Without doubt, we should read; and bid them answer. i. e. the World; those, whom he queftions. Mr. Warburton. Def. Def. You may, indeed, fay fo; For 'twas that hand, that gave away my heart. Oth. A liberal hand. The hearts, of old, gave hands: But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts. Def. I cannot fpeak of this; come, now your promife. Oth. What promife, chuck? Def. I've fent to bid Caffio come speak with you. Oth. I have a falt and forry Rheum offends me; Lend me thy handkerchief. Def. Here, my Lord. Oth. That, which I gave you. Def. I have it not about me. Def. No, indeed, my Lord. Oth. That's a fault. That handkerchief Did an Egyptian to my mother give; She was a Charmer, and could almoft read The thoughts of people. She told her, while fhe kept it, Def. Is't poffible? Oth. 'Tis true; there's magick in the web of it ;, A Sybill, that had numbred in the world The Sun to course two hundred compaffes, In her prophetick fury fow'd the Work: The worms were hallowed, that did breed the filk;, Def. Indeed! is't true ?· Oth. Moft veritable, therefore look to't well. Def. Then wou'd to heav'n, that I had never feen't! Oib. Ha? wherefore? |