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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

yawn at alteration.


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 ;


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!


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


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,


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 Observation.

THE beauties of this play (says Johnson) impress themselves so strongly upon the attention of the Reader, that they can draw no aid from critical illustration. The fiery openness of Othello, magnanimous, artless, and credulous, boundless in his confidence, ardent in his affection, inflexible in his resolution, and obdurate in his revenge; the cool malignity of lago, silent in his resentment, subtle in his designs, and Itudious at once of his interest and his vengeance; the soft fimplicity of Defdeexona, confident of merit, and conscious of innocence, her artless perseverance in her suit, and her Downess to suspect that the can be suspected are such proofs of Skakespear's skill in human nature, as, I suppose, it is vain to seek in any modern writer, The gradual progress which lago makes in the Moor's conviction, and the circumstances which he employs to inflame him, are so artfully natural, that, though it will perhaps not be said of him as he says of himself, that he is a man nos casily jealous, yet we cannot but pity him, when at last we find him perplexed in the extreme.

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The Life and Death of King




1) HE

Is reputation 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, Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.


(1) See Othello, p. 210.

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


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