$54

Iago. I fee, Sir, you are eaten up with paffion; I do repent me that I put it to you. You would be fatisfied?

Oth. Would? nay, and will.

Iago. And may; but how? how fatisfied, my Would you be fupervifor, grofly gape on? [Lord? Behold her tupp'd?

Oth. Death and damnation! oh!

Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
To bring 'em to that profpect: damn them then,
If ever mortal eyes do fee them bolster,
More than their own. What then? how then?
What fhall I fay? where's fatisfaction?
It is impoffible you fhould fee this,

Were they as prime as goats, às hot as monkeys,
As falt as wolves in pride, and fools as grofs
As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I fay,
If imputation and ftrong circumstances,
Which lead directly to the door of truth,
Will give you fatisfaction, you might have't.
Oth. Give me a living reafon the's difloyal.
Iago. I do not like the office;

But fith I'm entered in this cause so far,
Prick'd to't by foolish honefty and love,
I will go on. I lay with Caffio lately,
And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not fleep.------

There are a kind of men, fo loofe of foul,
That in their fleeps will mutter their affairs;
One of this kind is Caffio:

In fleep I heard him fay,

"Sweet Defdemona,

"Let us be wary, let us hide our loves!"
And then, Sir, would he gripe, and wring my hand;
Cry." Oh fweet creature!" and then kifs me hard,
As if he pluck'd up kiffes by the roots,

That grew upon my lips; then lay his leg

Over my thigh, and sigh and kiss, and then
Cry, "Curfed Fate! that gave thee to the Moor."
Oth. Oh, monftrous! monftrous !

Iago. Nay, this was but his dream.

Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclufion; 'Tis a fhrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.. Lago. 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 honest yet.---Tell me but this, Have you not fometimes feen a handkerchief, Spotted with strawberries, in your wife's hand? Oth. I gave her such a one, 'twas my first 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 speaks 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,
All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven;
'Tis gone;----

Arife black vengeance from the hollow hell!
Yield up, oh love, thy crown and hearted throne
To tyrannous hate! fwell bofom with thy fraught,
For 'tis of afpic's tongues.

Iago. Yet be content.

Oth. Oh, blood, blood, blood-----

[change.

Iago. Patience, I fay; your mind, perhaps, may Oth. Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic fea, Whofe icy current and compulsive course, Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic, and the Hellefpont:

Even fo my bloody thoughts with violent pace Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love, Till that a capable and wide revenge

Swallow them up.---Now, by yon marble heaven, In the due reverence of a facred vow

[He kneels.

[lago kneels.

1 here-engage my words-
Irgo. Do not rife yet:
Witnefs, you ever-burning lights above!
You elements that clip us round about!
Witnefs, that here Iago doth give up
The execution of his wit, hands, heart,

To wronged Othello's fervice. (37) Let him com-
Nor to obey fall be in me remorse,

What bloody business ever.

Qth. I greet thy love,

[mand,.

Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance boun

And will upon the inftant put thee to't:

[teous,.

Within thefe three days let me hear thee. fay,

That Caffio's not alive.

lago. My friend is dead; (38)

'Tis done at your request.

But let her live.

And to obey fall be in me. remorse,

What bloody bufinefs ever.] Thus all the old copies, to the manifeft depravation of the Poet's fenfe. Mr Pope has attempted an emendation, but with his old luck and dexterity:

Not to obey shall be in me remorfe, &c.

I read, with the change only of a fingle letter;

Nor, to obey, fhall be in me remorfe, &c.

i. e. Let your commands be ever fo bloody, remorfe and compaffion fhall not reftrain me from obeying them.

to the fame teaour Lady Macbeth fays;

Stop up the accefs and paffage to remife,

That no compun&ious visitings of Nature
Shake my fell purpose.

Much

(38) Jago, My friend is dead] . e. I am fo firmly refolved to obey your commands, that you may conclude Caflio

Oth. Damn her, lewd minx! Oh, damn her! damn her!

Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw

To furnith me with fome fwift means of death For the fair devil. Now art thou my Lieutenant. lago. I am your own for ever.

[Exeunt. SCENE, another Apartment in the Palace. Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Clown.

Def. Do you know, firrah, where Lieutenant Caffio lyes?

Clown. I dare not fay he lyes any where.
Def. Why, man ?

Glown. He's a foldier; and for me to fay a foldier lyes, 'tis ftabbing.

Def. Go to, where lodges he?

Clown. To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I ly.

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 lyes here, or he lyes there, were to ly in mine own throat.

Def. Can you enquire him out, and be edified by report?

already dead. Ben Johnson, I remember, in a like circumftance, in his Catiline, has finely expreffed the impetuofity of Cethegus's character; the dialogue is about making away with Cieero:

He fhall die;

Shall was too flowly faid;

Is yet too flow;-he's dead.

-he's dying; that

But this, by the by, is a copy from Seneca the tragedian, in his Hercules Furens:

Lycus Creonti debitas pœnas dabit;

Lentum eft, dabit: dat; hoc quoque eft lentum, dedit.

Clown. I will catechize. the world for him; that is, make questions, and bid them answer. (39) Def. Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him, I have moved 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 lofe that handkerchief,

Emilia?

Emil. I know not, Madam.

Def. Believe me, I had rather have loft my purfe Full of cruzadoes. And but my noble Moor Is true of mind, and made of no fuch bafenefs As jealous creatures are, it were enough To put him to ill thinking.

Emil. Is he not jealous?

Def. Who, he? I think the fun where he was Drew all fuch humours from him.

Emil. Look, where he comes.

[born,

Def. I will not leave him now; till Caffio be Called to him. How is it with you, my Lord ? Enter OTHELLO.

Oth. Well, my good Lady.-----Oh, hardnefs to How do you, Desdemona? [diflemble! Def. Well, my Lord.

Oth. Give me your hand; this hand is moist, my Lady.

(39) Clown. I will catechize the world for him;

That is, making queßions, and by them answer.]

This Clown is a fool to fome purpofe. He was to go feek for one; he fays, he will afk for him, and by his own quettions make anfwer. Without doubt, we should read;

and bid them anfwer.

i. e. the world; those whom he questions.

Mr Warburton