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And will not hear't. What committed ? impudent

strumpet!
Des. By heaven you do me wrong.
Oib. Are not you a strumpet ?
Def. No, as I am a christian.
If to preserve this vessel for my lord
From

any

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.
Oth. Is't possible ?
Def. Oh, heav'n forgive us.

Oth. I cry your mercy, then.
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello.

Scene XI. Desdemona'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 lost 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

(12) Sec p. 76, preceding:

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

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

Pope.

And ever will, though he do shake me off
To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly,
Comfort forfwear me. Unkindness

may

do much, And his unkindness

inay

defeat But never taint

iny

love.

my life,

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A Bed-chamber : Desdemona is discovered asleep

in ber 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 chaste 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 dorun the fuord.
Yet she 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 minister,
I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent; but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning'ít 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 must wither.- -I'll linell thee on the tree.

(Kifing her. O balmy breath, that doft almost persuade

Justice

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

L2

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 fo fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears: this forrow's heavenly ;
It strikes, where it doth love.

SCENE VII. Othello's Confusion, after having

murder'd his Wife,

Yes, 'tis Æmilia-by and by--he's dead.
'Tis like the comes to speak of Casio'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 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 her.

Had she been true,
If heaven would make me such another world,
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,
I'd not have sold her for it.

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(14) A better, &c.] In the Double Falhood there is exactly the fame expreflion, whether Shakespear's, or introduced by Theobald, I cannot pronounce ;

Wear

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 stop. But, oh vain boast :
Who can controul his fate? 'tis not so now.
Be not afraid, though you do fee me weapond;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
And very fea-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 ?
Now, how dost thou look now? Oh ill-Itarr'd wench!
Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at coinpt,
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 flave!
Whip me, ye devils,
From the poffeffion of this heavenly fight;
(15) Blow me about in winds, roast me in fulphur,
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire-
Oh Desdemona, Defdcmona! dead, dead! oh, oh!

go

SCENE X. His last Speech. Soft you ; a word or two before you go, I have done the state some fervice, 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 extreme; of one, whose hand,

Liko

Wear I not a sword ?
Ne'er on man's thigh rode better.

A. 3. S. 3. (15) See Measure for Measure, p. 238, 139, 140, 141.

Like the base (16) Fudean, threw a pearl away
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 say befides, that in Aleppo once,
Where a inalignant and a turband Turk
Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state,
I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
And smote him, thus.

(Stabs himself.

(16) Fudean..

] The elder quarto gives us Indian, it was easy for the è to have been chang'd into an i; and I suppose, he alludes to the well-known story of Herod and Mariamne his wife ; in some circumstances not unlike this of Othello and Desdemona, for both husbands lov'd violently, both were jealous, both were the occasion 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, published a tragedy called Mariam, the fair Queen of Jewry.” Mr. Uplon prefers like the baje Ægyftian; which Ægyptian he tells us, was Thyamis, mentioned in the romance of Theagcnes and Charicka, written by Heliodorus. The Reader, if he thinks proper, may see his arguments in support of this emendation in his 06fervations, 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.

General

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