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As Dian's vifage, is now begrim'd and black
As mine own face. If there be cords or knives,
Poison, or fire, or fuffocating streams,
Would I were fatisfied!

I'll not endure it.

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Othello's Speech after having receiv'd the Mandate, when confirm'd in his Sufpicions.

Ay! you did wish that I would make her turn:
Sir, fhe can turn and turn, and yet go on,
And turn again. And the can weep, Sir, weep;
And she's obedient: as you fay obedient;
Very obedient-proceed you in your tears
Concerning this, Sir-oh well painted paffion !-
I am commanded home-get you away,

I'll fend for you anon-Sir, I obey the mandate,
And will return to Venice-Hence, avant! [Ex. Des.
Caffio fhall have my place. And, Sir, to night
I do entreat, that we may fup together.
You are welcome, Sir, to Cyprus ——
Goats and monkies!

[Exit Othello.

SCENE IX. His pathetic Upbraiding of his WifeDef. Upon my knee, what doth your fpeech import? I understand a fury in your words,

words.

But not your

Oth. Why? what art thou?

Def. Your wife, my lord; your true and loyal wife.
Oth. Come fwear it; damn thy felf, left being like

one

Of heav'n, the devils themselves fhould fear to fieze thee,
Therefore be double-damn'd ; swear thou art honest.
Def. Heaven doth truly know it.
VOL. II

I

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Oth.

Oth. Heaven truly knows, That thou art falfe as hell.

Def. To whom, my lord? With whom? How am I falfe?

?

Oth. Ah, Defdemona, 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 fufpect,
An inftrument of this your calling back,
Lay not your blame on me; if you have loft him,
Why I have loft him too.

Oth. Had it pleas'd heaven,

To try me with affliction, had he rain'd

All kind of fores, and fhames on my bare head,
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips;
Given to captivity me and my hopes;
I fhould have found in fome Place of my foul
A drop of patience. But alas, to make me
A fixed figure for the hand of fcorn
To point his flow un-moving finger at
Yet could I bear that, too, well, very well:
But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,
Where either I muft live, or bear no life,

The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or elfe dries up, to be discarded thence ;

Or keep it as a ciftern, for foul toads

To knot and gender in; (10) Turn thy complexion there,

Patience

(10) Turn, &c.] i. e. Patience, thou young, &c. there, [upon the fight of that, a fight fo fhocking and intolerable] turn thy complexion---Ay, do more than that, not only turn thy complexion but look grim as bell, horrible as a fiend, and unlike thyself, a young and rofe-lip'd cherubin." This is a natural and fine fenfe, and thus the words come neareft thofe found in the old editions: the Oxford editor reads,

There, there look grim as hell.

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And

Patience, thou young and rofe-lip'd cherubin,
Ay, there look grim as hell.

Def. I hope my noble lord esteems me honeft.
Oth. Oh, ay, as fummer-flies are in the shambles,
That quicken even with blowing. (11) O thou weed!
Who art fo lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet,

That the fenfe akes at thee;

Would thou had'ft ne'er been born!

Def. Alas! what ignorant fin have I committed? Oth. 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 cynders burn up modesty,

Did I but speak thy deeds. What, what committed?1
Heav'n ftops the nof: at it, and the moon winks;
The bawdy wind, that kiffes all it meets,

Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,

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And will not hear't. What, committed? impudent

ftrumpet !

Def. By heaven you do me wrong.
Oth. Are not you a ftrumpet
Def. No, as I am a chriftian.
If to preserve this veffel for my lord
From any other foul, unlawful touch,
Be not to be a ftrumpet, I am none.
Oth. What, not a whore?
Def. No, as I shall be saved.
Oth. Is't poffible?

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(11) O thou, &c] This paffage feems to need no alteration; "Oh thou weed---who art not only fo lovely fair, inviting us fmell, but also deft really smell so sweet that, c.

to

Def. Oh, heav'n forgive us.

Oth. I cry you 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 loft him. (12) Here I kneel; [Kneeling
If e'er my will did trefpafs 'gainft his love,

Or in discourse, or thought, or actual deed;
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any fenfe
Delighted them on any other form ;
Or that I do not yet, and ever did,
And ever will, though he do fhake me off
To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly,
Comfort forfwear me. Unkindness may do much,
And his unkindness may
defeat my life,
But never taint my love.

(12) See page 60 preceding.

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

Ovid. Met. L. 7.

Her anfwer was, oft as my fuit I prefs'd,
For one alone 1 guard this fpotless breaft,
To one, where'er he is, from me disjoyn'd,
The wishes of my foul are all confin'd.

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ACT V. SCENE VI.

A Bed-chamber: Defdemona is difcover'd afleep in

her Bed.

Enter Othello with a light and a feword.

Oth. It is the caufe, it is the cause, my foul;
Let me not name it to you, ye chaft stars,
It is the caufe.-Yet I'll not fhed her blood,
Nor fear that whiter skin of hers than fnow,
And fmooth as monumental alabafter:

[Lays down the fword.

Yet fhe muft die, elfe fhe'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 reftore,
Should I repent; but once put out thy light.
Thou cunning'ft pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light re-lumine.
When I have pluck'd thy rofe,
I cannot give it vital growth again;
It needs muft wither.

[Sets down the taper.

-I'll smell thee on the tree.

[Killing her..

Obalmy breath, that doft almost persuade
Juftice to break her fword. 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 fweet, was ne'er fo fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears: this forrow's heav'nly;
It ftrikes, where it doth love.

(13) Put out, &c.] The prefent paffage hath been much criticifed upon, and is fo generally known and talk'd of, there remains little to be faid concerning it: I fhall therefore only add, the manner of reading it, which I have adopted, not only is most univerfally received,, but also seems to be most worthy Shakespear. I 3

SCENE

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