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and circumstance of glorious war
And you mortal engines, whose rude throats
Th’immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewel! Othello's occupation's gone.
lago. Is't possible, my lord ?
Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore;
Be sure of it: give me the ocular proof,
[Catching hold on him.
Or by the worth of mine eternal soul,
Thou hadît better have been born a dog,
Than answer my wak'd wrath.
Iago. Is't come to this ?
Oih. Make me to see't, or, at the least, fo prove it,
That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
To hang a doubt on: or woc upon thy life.
Iago. My noble lord.
Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me,
Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
On horrors head, horrors accumulate,
Do deeds to make heav'n weep, all earth amaz’d;
For nothing canst thou to damnation add,
Greater than that.
Iago. O grace! O heav'n forgive me !
Are you a man? have you a soul? or sense ?
God be wi' you: take mine office. Owretched fool,
That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice !
O monstrous world! take note, take note, O world,
To be direct and honest is not safe !
I thank you for this profit, and from hence
I'll love no friend, fith love breeds such offence.
Oth. Nay, stay-thou shouldst be honest.--
Iago. I should be wise, for honesty's a fool,
And loses that it works for.
Oth. By the world,
I think my wife is honest, and think she is not ;
I think that thou art just, and think thou art not;
I'll have some proof. Her name that was as fresh
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 satisfied !
Scene X. Othello's Story of the Handkerchief.
Did an Egyptian to my mother give;
She was a charmer, and cou'd almost read
The thoughts of people. She told her while she kept it,
'Twou'd make her amiable, subdue my
Entirely to her love: but if she lost it,
Or made a gift of it, my father's eye
Should hold her loathed, and his fpirits hunt
After new fancies. She dying, gave it me,
And bid me, when my state wou'd have me wiv'd,
To give it her. I did fo ; and take heed on't :
Make it a darling, like your precious eye ;
To lose't or giv't away, were such perdition
As nothing else could match.-
-There's magic in the web of it,
A Sibyl, that had number'd in the world
The fun to course two hundred compasses,
In her prophetic fury few'd the work:
The worms were hallow'd that did breed the filk,
And it was dy'd in mummey which the skilful
Conserv'd of maidens' hearts.
Scene XIII. A Lover's Computation of Time.
What, keep a week away? feven days and nights ?
Eight-score eight hours ? and love's absent hours,
More tedious than the dial eight-score times ?
Oh weary reckoning!
ACT IV. SCENE I.
Othello, before he falls into a Trance.
Lie with her! lie on her! lie with her! that's ful-
some : handkerchief-confessions-confeffions_hand-
kerchief I tremble at it- Nature would not in-
vest herself in such shadowing without some induction
--It is not words that shake me thus--pish-noses-
ears and lips-mis't possible confefs--handker-
chief Oh devil
Othello's exceffive Fondness of his
A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet woman!
Iago. Nay, you must forget that.
Oth. Ay, let her rot and perish and be damn'd to. night, for she shall not live. No, my heart is turn'd to stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand- -Oh, the world hath not a sweeter creature- She might lie by an emperor's fide and command him tasks.
Iago. Nay, that's not your way;
Oth. Hang her, I do but say what she is so deli cate with her needle-an admirable mufician- Oh, she will fing the favageness out of a bear: of so high and plenteous wit and invention !
lago. She's the worse for all this.
Oih. Oh, a thousand, a thousand times : and then of fo gentle condition !
Iago. Ay, too gentle.
Oth. Nay, that's certain-but yet the pity of it, lago-Oh, lago, the pity of it.
SCENE VI. Othello's Speech, after having received
the Mandate when confirm'd in his Suspicions.
Ay! you did wish that I would make her turn;
Sir, The 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--proeeed you in your tears-
Concerning this, "Sirmoh well painted passion!
I am commanded home-get you away,
I'll send for you anon-Sir, I obey the mandate,
And will return to Vinice-Hence, avant! [Ex. De
Caffio 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!
SCENE IX. His pathetic Upbraiding of his Wife.
Def. Upon my knee, what doth your speech import?
I understand a fúry in your words,
But not your words.
Oth. Why? what art thou?
Def. Your wife, my lord ; your true and loyal wife.
Oih. Come swear it; damn thyself, lest being like one
Of heav'n, the devils themselves should fear to seize thee,
Therefore be double-damn'd; swear thou art honest.
Def. Heaven doth truly know it.
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 suspect,
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 affliction, had he rain'd
All kind of fores and shames on my bare head,
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips;
Giv'n to captivity me and my hopes;
I should have found in some place of my soul
A drop of patience. But alas, to inake me
A fixed figure for the hand of fcorn
To point his flow, unmoving 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 ; (10) Turn thy complexion
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin,
Ay, there look grim
Def. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.
Oth. Oh, ay, as fummer-flies are in the shambles,
That quicken even with blowing. (11) O thou weed!
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st to sweet,
That the sense akes at thee;
Would thou hadít ne'er been born!
Def. Alas! what ignorant fin have I committed ?
Oih. 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 cinders 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 hulh'd within the hollow mine of earth,
(10) Turn, &c.] i. e. Patience, thou young, &c. there, (upon the fight of that, a light so shocking and intolerable) turn thy come plexion--Ay, do more than that, not only turn thy complexion but Isoke grim as hell, horrible as a fiend, and unlike thyself, a young and rose-lipp'd cherubin.” This is a natural and fine sense, and thus the words come nearest those found in the old editions : the Oxford editor reads,
There, there look grim as hell.
And Mr. Warburton,
Turn thy complexion thence.com
I here look grim as hell. (11) Othou, &c.] This paffage seems to need no alteration : “ Oh thou weed who are not only so lovely fair, inviting us to smell, but also doft really smell fo fweer that, &c. VOL. III.