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 COPYRIGHT, I909, BY BIGELOW, SMITH & CO.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA B

J. J. LITTLE AND IVES COMPANY, NEW YORK
THE TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO,
THE MOOR OF VENICE
 All the unsigned footnotes in this volume are by the
writer of the ardcie to which they are appended. The in-

terpretation of the initials signed to the others is: I. G.

= Israel Gollancz, M.A. H. N. H.= Henry Norman
;

Hudson, A.M. ; C. H. H.= C. H. Herford, Litt.D.

 — ' —

PREFACE
By Israel Goelancz, M.A.

THE EARLY EDITIONS

The First Edition of Othello was a Quarto, published
in 1622, with the following title-page:
"The Tragoedy of Othello, The Moore of Venice,
I
|
j

As hath beene diuerse times acted at the

it Globe, and|

at the Black-Friers, by his Maiesties Seruants.

|
Written \

by William Shakespeare. [Vignette] London, Printed

| |
|

by N. O. for Thomas Walkley, and are to be sold at his |

shop, at the Eagle and Child, in Brittans Bursse. 1622." 1 |

In 1623 appeared the First Folio, containing Othello

among the "Tragedies" (pp. 310-339) ; the text, however,
was not derived from the same source as the First Quarto;
an independent MS. must have been obtained. In addition
to many improved readings, the play as printed in the
Folio contained over one hundred and fifty verses omitted
in the earlier edition, while, on the other hand, ten or fif-
teen lines in the Quarto were not represented in the folio
version. Thomas Walkley had not resigned his interest in
the play ; it is clear from the Stationers' Register that it
i Prefixed to this First Quarto were the following lines :

"The Stationer to the Reader.

"To booke without an Epistle, were like to the old Eng-

set forth a
lish prouerbe, A blew coat without a badge, the Author being dead,
I thought good to take that piece of worke upon mee: To commend
it, I will not, for that which is good, I hope euery man will com-

mend, without intreaty : and I am the bolder, because the author's

name is sufficient to vent his worke. Thus leaning euery one to the
liberty of iudgement; I haue ventered to print this play, and leaue
it to the generall censure. Yours, Thomas Walkley.
vii
 — ;

Preface OTHELLO
remained his property until March 1, 1627 (i. e. 1628)
when he assigned "Orthello the More of Venice" unto
Richard Hawkins, who issued the Second Quarto in 1630.
A Third Quarto appeared in 1655 and later Quartos in
;

1681, 1687, 1695.

The text of modern editions of the play is based
on that of the First Folio, though it is not denied that
we have in the First Quarto a genuine play-house copy
a notable difference, pointing to the Quarto text as the
older, is its retention of oaths and asseverations, which are
omitted or toned down in the Folio version.

DATE OF COMPOSITION
I

This point has an important bearing on the date of

last
the play, for it proves that Othello was written before the
Act of Parliament was issued in 1606 against the abuse
of the name of God in plays. External and internal evi-
dence seem in favor of 1604, as the birth-year of the trag-
edy, and this date has been generally accepted since the
publication of the Variorum Shakespeare of 1821, wherein
Malone's views in favor of that year were set forth (Ma-
lone had died nine years before the work appeared).
After putting forward various theories, he added: "We —
know it was acted in 1604, and I have therefore placed it
in that year." For twenty years scholars sought in vain
to discover upon what evidence he knew this important
fact, until at last about the year 1840 Peter Cunningham
announced his discovery of certain Accounts of the Revels
at Court, containing the following item:

"By the King's 'Hallamas Day, being the first of Nov,

Matis Plaiers. A play at the bankettinge House att
Whitehall, called the Moor of Venis [1604].'" i

We now know that this manuscript was a forgery, but

strange to say there is every reason to believe that though
"the book" itself is spurious, the information which it
i v. Shakespeare Society Publications, 1842.
viii
 — —

THE MOOR Preface

yields genuine, and that Malone had some such entry

is

in his when he wrote his emphatic statement

possession
(vide Grant White's account of the whole story, quoted in
Furness' Variorum edition; cp. pp. 351-357).
The older school of critics, and Malone himself at first,
assigned the play to circa 1611 on the strength of the lines,
III, iv, 46, 47:—
"The hearts of old gave hands;
But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts,"

which seemed to be a reference to the arms of the order

of Baronets, instituted by King James in 1611 Malone, ;

however, in his later edition of the play aptly quoted a pas-

sage from the Essays of Sir Wm. Cornwallis, the younger,
published in 1601, which may have suggested the thought
to Shakespeare: "They (our forefathers) had wont to
give their hands and their hearts together, but we think it
a finer grace to look asquint, our hand looking one way,
and our heart another."

THE ORIGINAL OF OTHELLO

From the elegy on the death of Richard Burbage in the
year 1618, it appears that the leading character of the
play was assigned to this most famous actor:
"But let me not forget one chiefest part
Wherein, beyond the rest, he mov'd the heart,
The grieved Moor, made jealous by a slave,
Who sent his wife to fill a timeless grave,
Then slew himself upon the bloody bed.
All these and many more with him are dead." i

THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT

The story of II Moro di Venezia was taken from the
Heccatommithi of the Italian novelist Giraldi Cinthio it ;

is the seventh tale of the third decade, which deals with

"The unfaithfulness of Husbands and Wives/' No Eng-

iv. Ingleby's Centurie of Prayse (New Shak. Soc), 2nd edition,
p. 131, where the elegy is discussed, and a truer version printed.
•
iv
 — ;

Preface OTHELLO
lish translation of the novel existed in Shakespeare's time
(at leastwe know of none), but a French translation ap-
peared in the year 1584, and through this medium the
work may have come to England. Cinthio's novel may
have been of Oriental origin, and in its general character
it somewhat resembles the tale of The Three Apples in

The Thousand and One Nights; on the other hand it has

been ingeniously maintained that "a certain Christophal
Moro, a Luogotenente di Cipro, who returned from Cyprus
in 1508, after having lost his wife, was the original of
the Moor of Venice of Giraldi Cinthio." "Fronting the
summit of the Giants' Stair," writes Mr. Rawdon Brown,
the author of this theory, "where the Doges of Venice
were crowned, there are still visible four shields spotted
with mulberries (strawberries in the description of Des-
demona's handkerchief), indicating that that part of the
palace portal on which they are carved was terminated in
the reign of Christopher Moro, whose insignia are three
mulberries sable and three bends azure on a field argent
the word Moro signifying in Italian either mulberry-tree
or blackamoor." Perhaps Shakespeare learned the true
story of his Othello from some of the distinguished Vene-
tians in England; "Cinthio's novel would never have suf-
1
ficed him for his Othello" (vide Furness, pp. 372-389).
Knowing, however, Shakespeare's transforming power, we
may well maintain that, without actual knowledge of Chris-
topher Moro's history, he was capable of creating Othello
from Cinthio's savage Moor, Iago from the cunning cow-
ardly ensign of the original, the gentle lady Desdemona
from "the virtuous lady of marvelous beauty, named
1 The title of the novel summarizes its contents as follows:
"A Moorish Captain takes to wife a Venetian Dame, and his
Ancient accuses her of adultery to her husband: it is planned that
the Ancient is to kill him whom he believes to be the adulterer; the
Captain kills the woman, is accused by the Ancient, the Moor does
not confess, but after the infliction of extreme torture, is banished;
and the wicked Ancient, thinking to injure others, provided for him-
self a miserable death."

s
 — ;

THE MOOR Preface

Disdemona (i. e. 'the hapless one'),"

1
who is beaten to
death "with a stocking filled with sand," Cassio and Emilia
from the vaguest possible outlines. The tale should be
read side by side with the play by such as desire to study
the process whereby a not altogether artless tale of hor-
ror 2 has become the subtlest of tragedies
—
"perhaps the
greatest work in the world." 3 " The most pathetic of
4
human compositions."

DURATION OF ACTION
The action seems to cover three days :
—
Act I one day —
interval for voyage Act II ; —
one day ; Acts III, IV, V
one day. In order to get over the difficulty of this time-
division various theories have been advanced, notably that
of Double Time, propounded by Halpin and Wilson; ac-
cording to the latter, "Shakespeare counts off days and
hours, as it were, by two clocks, on one of which the true
Historic Time is recorded, and on the other the Dramatic
Time, or a false show of time, whereby days, weeks, and
1 This is the only name given by Cinthi*. Steevens first pointed
out that "Othello" is found in Reynold's God's Revenge against
—
Adultery, standing in one of his arguments as follows: "She mar-
ries Othello, an old German soldier." The name "Iago" also occurs
in the book. It is also found in The first and second part of the
History of the famous Euordanus 3 Prince of Denmark. With the
strange adventures of Iago, Prince of Saxonie: and of both their
several fortunes in Love. At London, 1605.
2 Mrs. Jameson rightly calls attention to a striking incident of

—
the original story: Desdemona does not accidentally drop the
handkerchief: it is stolen from her by Iago's little child, an infant
of three years old, whom he trains and bribes to the theft. The
—
love of Desdemona for this child, her little playfellow the pretty
description of her taking it in her arms and caressing it, while it
profits by its situation to steal the handkerchief from her bosom,
are well imagined and beautifully told, etc.
s Macaulay.
4 Wordsworth —
"The tragedy of Othello, Plato's records of the
:

last scenes in the career of Socrates, and Izaak Walton's Life of

George Herbert are the most pathetic of human compositions." (A
valuable summary of criticisms, English and foreign, will be found
in Furness' Othello, pp. 407-453.)
xi
 — —

Preface OTHELLO
months may be to the utmost contracted" (Furness, pp.
358-372).
According to Mr. Fleay, the scheme of time for the play
is as follows:
Act I —one day. Interval for voyage. Act II one —
day. —
Act III one day (Sunday). Interval of a week,
at least. ; —
Act IV, sc. i, ii, iii Act V, sc. i, ii, iii one day.
Where Act IV begins with what is now Act III, sc. iv, and
Act V with the present Act IV, sc. iii.
"Dreams, Books, are each a world: and books, we know,
Are a substantial world, both pure and good;
Round them with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,
Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
There find I personal theme, a plenteous store,
Matter wherein right voluble I am,
To which I listen with a ready ear;
Two shall be named pre-eminently dear,
The gentle Lady married to the Moor;
And heavenly Una, with her milk-white Lamb.
 :

INTRODUCTION
By Henry Norman Hudson, A.M.

II Moro di Venezia is the title of one of the novels in

Giraldi Cinthio's Hecatommithi. The material for The
Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice, was partly de-
rived from this source. Whether the story was accessible
to Shakespeare in English, we have no certain knowledge.
No translation of so early a date has been seen or heard
of in modern times and we have already in several cases
;

found reason to think he knew enough of Italian to take

the matter directly from the original. We proceed, as
usual, to give such an abstract of the tale as may fully dis-
cover the nature and extent of the Poet's obligations
There lived in Venice a valiant Moor who was held in
high esteem for his military genius and services. Des-
demona, a lady of great virtue and beauty, won by his
noble qualities, fell in love with him. He also became
equally enamored of her, and, notwithstanding the opposi-
tion of her friends, married her. They were altogether
happy in each other until the Moor was chosen to the
I
military command of Cyprus. Though much pleased with
this honor, he was troubled to think that he must either
part from his wife or else expose her to the dangers of the
voyage. She, seeing him troubled and not knowing the
cause, asked him one day how he could be so melancholy
after being thus honored by the Senate; and, on being
told the reason, begged him to dismiss such idle thoughts,
as she was resolved to follow him wherever he should go,
and, if there were any dangers in the way, to share them
with him. So, the necessary preparations being made, he
soon afterwards embarked with his wife, and sailed for
xiii
Introduction OTHELLO
Cyprus. In his company he had an ensign, of a fine look-
ing person, but exceedingly depraved in heart, a boaster
and a coward, who by his craftiness and pretension had
imposed on the Moor's simplicity, and gained his friend-
ship. This rascal also took his wife along, a handsome
and discreet woman, who, being an Italian, was much cher-
ished by Desdemona. In the same company was also a
lieutenant to whom the Moor was much attached, and
often had him to dine with him and his wife; Desdemona
showing him great attention and civility for her husband's
sake.
The ensign, falling passionately in love with Desdemona,
and not daring to avow it lest the Moor should kill him,
sought by private means to make her aware of his passion.
But when he saw that all his efforts came to nothing, and
that she was too much wrapped up in her husband to think
of him or any one else, he at last took it into his head
that she was in love wi+h the lieutenant, and determined to
work the ruin oi them both by accusing them to the Moor
of adultery. But he saw that he would have to be very
artful in his treachery, else the Moor would not believe
him, so great was his affection for his wife, and his friend-
ship for the lieutenant. He therefore watched for an op-
portunity of putting his design into act; and it was not
long before he found one. For, the lieutenant having
drawn his sword and wounded a soldier upon guard, the
Moor cashiered him. De mona tried very hard to get
him pardoned, and received agai: to f ,or. When the
r

Moor told his ensign how earnest she was in the cause,
the villain saw it was the proper time for opening his
scheme: so, he suggested that she might be fond of the
lieutenant's company; and, th Moor asking him why, he
replied,
— "Nay, I do Vot choose to meddle between man
f

and wife but watch her properly, and you will then under-
;

stand me." The Moor could get no further explanation

from him, and, being stung to the quick by his words, kept
brooding upon them, and trying to make out their mean-
ing and when his wife, some time after, again begged him
;

siv
THE MOOR Introduction

to forgive the lieutenant, and not to let one slight fault

cancel a friendship of so many years, he at last grew
angry, and wondered why she should trouble herself so
much about the fellow, as he was no relation of hers. She
replied with much sweetness, that her only motive in speak-
ing was the pain she felt in seeing her husband deprived of
so good a friend.
Upon this solicitation, he began to suspect that the en-
sign's words meant that she was in love with the lieutenant.
So, being full of^ inelancJiQlyL thoughts, he went to the en-
sign, and tried to make him speak more intelligibly ; who,
feigning great reluctance to say more, and making as
though he yielded to his pressing entreaties, at last re-
plied,
—
"You must know, then, tha. Desdemona is grieved
for the lieutenant only because, when he comes to your
house, she consoles herself with him for the disgust she now
has at your blackness." At this, the Moor was more deeply
stung than ever; but, wishing to be informed further, he
—
put on a threatening look, and said, "I know not what
keeps me from cutting out that insolent tongue of yours,
which has thus attacked the honor of my wife.'' The en-
sign replied that he expected no other reward for his
friendship, but still protested that he had spoken the truth.
"If," said he, "her feigned affection has blinded you to
such a degree that you cannot see what is so very visible,
that does not lessen the truth of my assertion. " The lieu-
tenant himself, being one of those who are not content
unless some others are made privy to their secret enjoy-
ments, told me so and I would have given him his death
;

at the time, but that I feared your displeasure: but, since

you thus reward my friendship, I am sorry I did not hold
my tongue." The Moor answered in great passion, "If —
you— de not make me see with my own eyes the truth of
what you tell me, be assured that I will make you wish you
—
had been born dumb." "That would have been easy
enough," said the ensign, "when the lieutenant came to
your house; but now that you have driven him away, it
will be hard to prove it. But I do not despair of caus-
xv
Introduction OTHELLO
ing you to see thatwhich you will not believe on my word."
The Moor then went home with a barbed arrow in his
side, impatient for the time when he was to see what would
render him forever miserable. Meanwhile, the known
purity of Desdemona made the ensign very uneasy lest
he should not be able to convince the Moor of what he
said. He therefore went to hatching new devices of mal-
ice. Now, Desdemona often went to his house, and spent
part of the day with his wife. Having observed that she
brought with her a handkerchief which the Moor had given
her, and which, being delicately worked in the Moorish
style, was much prized by them both, he devised to steal it.
He had a little girl of three years old, who was much
caressed by Desdemona. So, one day, when she was at
his house, he put the child into her arms, and while she was
pressing the little girl to her bosom, he stole away the
handkerchief so dexterously that she did not perceive it.
This put him in high spirits. And the lady, being occu-
pied with other things, did not think of the handkerchief
till some days after, when, not being able to find it, she

began to fear lest the Moor should ask for it, as he often
did. The ensign, watching his o r pc~tunity, went to the
lieutenant, and left the handkerchief on his bolster. When
the lieutenant found it, he could nol lagine how it came
there ; but, knowing it to be Desdemona's, he resolved to
carrjr it to her: so, waiting till the Moor waj gone out,
he went to the back door and knocked. The Moor, having
that instant returned, went to the window, and asked who
was there ; whereupon the lieutenant, hearing his voice, ran
away without answering. The Moor then went to the
door, and, finding no one there, returned full of suspicion,
and asked his wife if she knew who it was that had knocked.
She answered with truth that she did not but he, thinking
;

itwas the lieutenant, went to the ensign, told him what had
happened, and engaged him to ascertain what he could on
the subject.
The ensign, being much delighted at this incident, con-
trired one day to have an interview with the lieutenant in
xvi
THE MOOR Introduction

a place where the Moor could see them. In the course of

their talk, which was on a different subject, he laughed
much, and by his motions expressed great surprise. As
soon as they had parted, the Moor went to the ensign, to
learn what had passed between them and he, after much
;

urging, declared that the lieutenant withheld nothing from

him, but rather boasted of his frequent wickedness with
Desdemona, and how, the last time he was with her, she
made him a present of the handkerchief her husband had
given her. The Moor thanked him, and thought that if
his wife no longer had the handkerchief, this would be a
proof that the ensign had told him the truth. So, one
day after dinner he asked her for it; and she, being much
disconcerted at the question, and blushing deeply, all
which was carefully observed by the Moor, ran to her
wardrobe, as if to look for it; but, as she could not find it,
and wondered what had become of it, he told her to look for
it some other time ; then left her, and began to reflect how
he might put her and the lieutenant to death so as not to
be held responsible for the murder.
The lieutenant had in his house a woman who, struck
with the beauty of the handkerchief, determined to copy it
before it should be returned. While she was at the work,
sitting by a window where any one passing in the street
might see her, the ensign pointed it out to the Moor, who
was then fully persuaded of his wife's guilt. The ensign
then engaged to kill both her and the lieutenant. So, one
dark night, as the lieutenant was coming out of a house
where he usually spent his evenings, the ensign stealthily
gave him a cut in the leg with his sword, and brought him
to the ground, and then rushed upon him to finish the
work. But the lieutenant, who was very brave and skill-
ful, having drawn his sword, raised himself for defense,
and cried out murder as loud as he could. As the alarm
presently drew some people to the spot, the ensign fled
away, but quickly returned, pretended that he too was
brought thither by the noise, and condoled with the lieu-
tenant as much as if he had been his brother. The next
xvii
Introduction OTHELLO
morning, Desdemona, hearing what had happened, ex-
pressed much concern for the lieutenant, and this greatly
strengthened the Moor's conviction of her guilt. He then
arranged with the ensign for putting her to death in such
a manner as to avoid suspicion. As the Moor's house was
very old, and the ceiling broken in divers places, the plan
agreed upon at the villain's suggestion was, that she should
be beaten to death with a stocking full of sand, as this
would leave no marks upon her; and that when this was
done they should pull down the ceiling over her head, and
then give out that she was killed by a beam falling upon
her. To carry this purpose into effect, the Moor one
night had the ensign hidden in a closet opening into his
chamber. At the proper time, the ensign made a noise,
and when Desdemona rose and went to see what it was, he
rushed forth and killed her in the manner proposed. They
then placed her on the bed, and when all was done ac-
cording to the arrangement, the Moor gave an alarm that
his house was falling. The neighbors running thither
found the lady dead under the beams. The next day, she
was buried, the whole island mourning for her.
The Moor, not long after, became distracted with grief
and remorse. Unable to bear the sight of the ensign, he
would have put him openly to death, but that he feared
the justice of the Venetians so he drove him from his com-
;

pany and degraded him, whereupon the villain went to

studying how to be revenged on the Moor. To this end,
he disclosed the whole matter to the lieutenant, who ac-
cused the Moor before the Senate, and called the ensign
to witness the truth of his charges. The Moor was im-
prisoned, banished, and afterwards killed by his wife's re-
lations. The ensign, returning to Venice, and continuing
his old practices, was taken up, put to the torture, and
racked so violently that he soon died.
Such are the materials out of which was constructed this
greatest of domestic dramas. A comparison of Cinthio's
tale with the tragedy built upon it will show the measure
oi'the Poet's judgment better, perhaps, than could be done
xviii
 :

THE MOOR Introduction

by an entirely original performance. For, wherever he

departs from the story, it is for a great and manifest gain
of truth and nature; so that he appears equally judicious
in what he borrowed and in what he created, while his re-
sources of invention seem boundless, save as they are self-
restrained by the reason and logic of art. The tale has
nothing anywise answering to the part of Roderigo, who
in the drama is a vastly significant and effective occasion,
since upon him the most profound and subtle traits of
Iago are made to transpire, and that in such a way as
to lift the characters of Othello and Desdemona into a
much higher region, and invest them with a far deeper
and more pathetic interest and meaning. And even in the^
other parts, the Poet can scarce be said to have taken any
thing more than a few incidents and the outline of the
plot; the character, the passion, the pathos, the poetry,
being entirely his own.
Until a recent date, The Tragedy of Othello was com-
monly supposed to have been among the last of Shake-
speare's writing. Chalmers assigned it to 1614, Drake, to
1612; Malone at first set it down to 1611, afterwards to
1604. Mr. Collier has produced an extract from The
Egerton Papers, showing that on August 6, 1602, the
sum of ten pounds was paid "to Burbage's Players for
Othello." At that time, Queen Elizabeth was at Hare-
field on a visit to Sir Thomas Egerton, then Lord Keeper
of the Great Seal, afterwards Lord Ellesmere; and it ap-
pears that he had the tragedy performed at his residence
for her delectation. The company that acted on this
occasion were then known as the Lord Chamberlain's Serv-
ants, and in The Egerton Papers were spoken of as Bur-
bage's Players, probably because Richard Burbage was the
leading actor among them. And an elegy on the death
of Burbage, lately discovered among Mr. Heber's manu-
scripts, ascertains him to have been the original per-
former of Othello's part. After mentioning various char-
acters in which this actor had been distinguished, the writer
proceeds thus
xix
Introduction OTHELLO
"But let me not forget one chiefest part
Wherein, beyond the rest, he mov'd the heart;
The grieved Moor, made jealous by a slave,
Who sent his wife to fill a timeless grave,
Then slew himself upon the bloody bed."

When selected for performance at Harefield, Othello

was doubtless in the first blush and freshness of its popu-
larity, having probably had a run at the Globe in the
spring of that year, and thus recommended itself to the
audience of the Queen. Whether the play were then in
its we have no means of ascertaining. Its
finished state,
workmanship certainly bespeaks the Poet's highest ma-
turity of power and art which has naturally suggested,
;

that when first brought upon the stage it may have been
as different from what it is now, as the original Hamlet
was from the enlarged copy. Such is the reasonable con-
jecture of Mr. Verplanck, —
a conjecture not a little ap-
proved by the fact of the Poet's having rewritten so many
of his dramas after his mind had outgrown their original
form. The style, however, of the play is throughout so
even and sustained, so perfect is the coherence and con-
gruity of part with part, and its whole course so free from
redundancy and impertinence, that, unless some further
external evidence should come to light, the question will
have to rest in mere conjecture.
The drama was not printed during the author's life.
On October 6, 1621, it was entered at the Stationers' by
Thomas Walkley, "under the hands of Sir George Buck
and of the Wardens." Soon after was issued a quarto
pamphlet of forty-eight leaves, the title-page reading thus:
"The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice. As it
hath been divers times acted at the Globe and at the
Blackfriars, by his Majesty's Servants. Written by Wil-
liam Shakespeare. London: Printed by N. O. for Thomas
Walkley, and are to be sold at his shop, at the Eagle and
Child, in Britain's Bourse. 1622." This edition was set
forth with a short preface by the publisher, which will be
found in the foot-note on page vii.
xx
THE MOOR Introduction

In the folio of 1623, Othello stands the tenth in the di-

vision of Tragedies, has the acts and scenes regularly
marked, and at the end a list of the persons, headed, "The
Names of the Actors." Iago is here called "a villain,"
and Roderigo "a gull'd gentleman." In the folio, the
play has a number of passages, some of them highly
important, amounting in all to upwards of 160 lines,
which are not in the preceding quarto. On the other
hand, the folio omits a few lines that are found in the
earlier issue.
The play was again set forth in quarto form in 1630,
with a title-page reading substantially the same as that
of 1622, save as regards the name and address of the pub-
lisher.
Neither one of these copies was merely a repetition of
another: on the contrary, all three of them were printed
from different and probably independent manuscripts.
The island of Cyprus became subject to the republic
of Venice, and was first garrisoned with Venetian troops,
in 1471. After this time, the only attempt ever made upon
that island by the Turks, was under Selim the Second,
in 1570. It was then invaded by a powerful force, and
conquered in 1571 since which time it has continued a
;

part of the Turkish empire. We learn from the play, that

there was a junction of the Turkish fleet at Rhodes, in or-
der for the invasion of Cyprus; that it first sailed towards
C3 prus, then went to Rhodes, there met another squadron,
T

and then resumed its course to Cyprus. These are his-

torical facts, and took place when Mustapha, Selim's gen-
eral, attacked Cyprus, in May, 1570; which is therefore
the true period of the action.
In respect of general merit, Othello unquestionably
stands in the same rank with the Poet's three other great
tragedies, Macbeth, Lear, and Hamlet. As to the par-
ticular place it is entitled to hold among the four, the
best judges, as we might expect, are not agreed. In the
elements and impressions of moral terror, it is certainly
inferior to Macbeth; in breadth and variety of character-
xxi
introduction OTHELLO
ization, to Lear; in compass and reach of thought to
Hamlet: but it has one advantage over all the others, in

that the passion, the action, the interest, all lie strictly
within the sphere of domestic life for which cause the play
;

has a more close and intimate hold on the common sym-

pathies of mankind. On the whole, perhaps it. may be
safely affirmed of these four tragedies, that the most com-
petent readers will always like that best which they read
last.
Dr. Johnson winds up his excellent remarks on this trag-
edy as follows: "Had the scene opened in Cyprus, and
the preceding incidents been occasionally related, there had
been little wanting to a drama of the most exact and scru-
pulous regularity." This means, no doubt, that the play
would have been improved by such a change. The whole
of Act I would thus have been spared, and we should have,
instead, various narrations in the form of soliloquy, but
addressed to the audience. Here, then, w ould be two im-
r

proprieties, —the turning of the actor into an orator by

putting him directly in communication with the audience,
and the making him soliloquize matter inconsistent with the
nature of the soliloquy.
But, to say nothing of the irregularity thus involved, all
the better meaning of Act I would needs be lost in narra-
tion. For the very reason of the dramatic form is, that
action conveys something which cannot be done up in
propositions. So that, if narrative could here supply the
place of the scenes in question, it does not appear why
there should be any such drama at all. We will go
further: This first Act is the very one which could least
be spared, as being in effect fundamental to the others, and
therefore necessary to the right understanding of them.
One great error of criticism has been, the looking for
too much simplicity of purpose in works of art. We are
told, for instance, that the end of the drama is, to represent
actions and that, to keep the work clear of redundances,
;

the action must be one, with a beginning, a middle, and

an end; as if all the details, whether of persons or events,
xxii
THK MOOR Introduction

were merely for the sake of the catastrophe. Thus it is

presumed, that any one thing, to be properly understood,
should be detached from all others. Such is not the
method of nature: to accomplish one aim, she carries many
aims along together. And so the proper merit of a work
of art, which is its truth to nature, lies in the harmony of
divers coordinate and concurrent purposes, making it, not
like a flat abstraction, but like a round, plump fact.
Unity of effect is indeed essential; but unity as distin-
guished from mere oneness of effect comes, in art as in
nature, by complexity of purpose ;
—
a complexity wherein
each purpose is alternately the means and the end of the
others.
Whether the object of the drama be more to represent
action, or passion, or character, cannot be affirmed, because
in the nature of things neither of these can be represented
save in vital union with the others. If, however, either
should have precedence, doubtless it is character, foras-
much as this is the common basis of the other two but the
:

complication and interaction of several characters is nec-

essary to the development of any one; the persons serv-
ing as the playground of each other's transpirations, and
reciprocally furnishing motives, impulses, and occasions.
For every society, whether actual or dramatic, is a con-
cresence of individuals:men do not grow and develop
alone, but by and from each other; so that many have to
grow up together in order for any one to grow; the best
part even of their individual life coming to them from or
through the social organization. And as men are made,
so they must be studied as no one can grow by himself,
;

so none can be understood by himself his character being

:

partly derived, must also be partly interpreted, from the

particular state of things in which he lives, the characters
that act with him, and upon him.
It may be from oversight of these things, that the first
Act in Othello has been thought superfluous. If the rise,
progress, and result of the Moor's passion were the only
aim of the work, that Act might indeed be dispensed with.
xxiii
 Introduction OTHELLO
But we must first know something of his character and
the characters that act upon him, before w e can rightly
r

decide what and whence his passion is. This knowledge

ought to be, and in fact is, given in the opening scenes of
the play.
Again We often speak of men as acting thus or thus,
:

according as they are influenced from without. And in

one sense this is true, yet not so, but that the man rather
determines the motive, than the motive the man. For the
same influences often move men in different directions, ac-
cording to their several of character.
predispositions
What is with one a motive to virtue, is with another a
motive to vice, and with a third no motive at all. On the
other hand, where the outward motions are the same, the
inward springs are often very different: so that we can-
not rightly interpret a man's actions, without some fore-
cast of his actuating principle his actions being the index
;

of his character, and his character the light whereby that

index is to be read. The first business, then, of a drama
is, to give some preconception of the characters which may

render their actions intelligible, and which may itself in

turn receive further illustration from the actions.
Now, there are few things in Shakespeare more remark-
able than the judgment shown in his first scenes; and
perhaps the very highest instance of this is in the opening
of Othello. The play begins strictly at the beginning, and
goes regularly forward, instead of beginning in the mid-
dle, as Johnson would have it, and then going both ways.
The first Act gives the prolific germs from which the whole
is evolved; it is indeed the seminary of the whole pla}',

and unfolds the characters in their principles, as the other

Acts do in their phenomena. The not attending duly to
what is there disclosed has caused a good deal of false
% criticism on the play; as, for example, in the case of Iago,
who, his earlier developments being thus left out of the
account, or not properly weighed, has been supposed to
act from revenge; and then, as no adequate motives for
xxiv
THE MOOR Introduction

such a revenge are revealed, the character has been thought

unnatural.
The main passions and proceedings of the drama all
have their primum mobile in Iago and the first Act amply
;

discloses what he is made of and moved by. As if on pur-

pose to prevent any mistake touching his springs of ac-
tion, he is set forth in various aspects having no direct
bearing on the main course of the play. He comes before
us exercising his faculties on the dupe Roderigo, and there-
by spilling out the secret of his habitual motives and mv
pulses. That his very frankness may serve to heighten
our opinion of his sagacity, the subject he is practising
upon is at once seen to be a person who, from strength of
passion, weakness of understanding, and want of charac-
ter, will be kept from sticking at his own professions of
villainy. So that the freedom with which he here unmasks
himself only lets us into his keen perceptions of his whens
and hows.
We know from the first, that the bond of union between
them is the purse. Roderigo thinks he is buying up Iago's
talents and efforts. This is just what Iago means to have
him think; and it is something doubtful which glories most,
the one in having money to bribe talents, or the other in
having wit to catch money. Still it is plain enough that
Iago, with a pride of intellectual mastery far stronger
than his love of lucre, cares less for the money than for the
fun of wheedling and swindling others out of it.
But while Iago is selling pledges of assistance to his
dupe, there is the stubborn fact of his being in the serv-
ice of Othello; and Roderigo cannot understand how he is
to serve two masters at once whose interests are so con-
flicting. In order, therefore, to engage his faith without
forsaking the Moor, he has to persuade Roderigo that he
follows the Moor but to serve his turn upon him. A hard
task indeed; but, for that very cause, all the more grate-
ful to him, since, from its peril and perplexity, it requires
the great stress of cunning, and gives the wider scope for
xxv
Introduction OTHELLO
his ingenuity. The very anticipation of the thing oils his
faculties into ecstacy ; his heart seems ina paroxysm of
delight while venting his passion for hypocrisy, as if this
most Satanical attribute served him for a muse, and in-
spired him with an energy and eloquence not his own.
Still, to make his scheme work, he must allege some rea-
sons for his purpose touching the Moor: for Roderigo,
gull though he be, is not so gullible as to entrust his cause
to-a groundless treachery; he must know something of the
strong provocations which have led Iago to cherish such
designs. Iago understands this perfectly: he therefore
pretends a secret grudge against Othello, which he is but
holding in till he can find or make a fit occasion and there-
;

withal assigns such grounds and motives as he knows will

secure faith in his pretense; whereupon the other gets too
warm with the anticipated fruits of his treachery to sus-
pect any similar designs on himself. "Vonderful indeed
are the arts whereby the rogue wins and keeps his ascend-
ancy over the gull ! During their conversation, we can al-
most see the former worming himself into the latter, like a
corkscrew into a cork.
But Iago has a still harder task, to carry Roderigo
along in a criminal quest of Desdemona for his character
;

is marked rather by want of principle than by bad prin-

ciple, and the passion with which she has inspired him is
incompatible with any purpose of dishonoring her. Until
the proceeding before the Senate, he hopes her father will
break off the match with Othello, so that she will again
be open to an honorable solicitation but, when he finds
;

her married, and the marriage ratified by her father, he

is for giving up in despair. But Iago again besets him,
like an evil angel, and plies his witchcraft with augmented
vigor. Himself an atheist of female virtue, he has no
way to gain his point but by debauching Roderigo's mind
with his own atheism. With an overweening pride of
wealth Roderigo unites considerable respect for woman-
hood. Therefore Iago at once flatters his pride by urg-
ing the power of money, and inflames his passion by urg-
xxvi
 :

THE MOOR Introduction

ing the frailty of woman; for the greatest preventive of

dishonorable passion is faith in the virtue of its object.
Throughout this undertakings .la^o'^^assjonless soul revels
amid lewd thoughts and images, like a spirit broke loose
from the pit. With his nimble fancy, his facility and
felicity of combination, fertile, "fluent, and apposite in
plausibilities, at one and the same time stimulating Roder-
igo's inclination to believe, and stifling his ability to re-
fute, what is said, overwhelms his power of
he literally
resistance. By often iterating the words, "put money in
your purse," he tries to make up in earnestness of asser-
tion whatever may be wanting in the cogency of his reason-
ing, and, in proportion as Roderigo's mind lacks room for
his arguments, to subdue him by mere violence of im-
pression. Glorying alike in mastery of intellect and
of will, he would so make Roderigo part of himself, like
his hand or foot, as to be the immediate organ of his own
volitions. Nothing can surpass the fiendish chuckle of
self-satisfaction with which he turns from his conquest to
sneer at the victim
"Thus do I ever make my fool my purse;
For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
If I would time expend with such a snipe,
But for my sport and profit."

So much for Iago's proceedings with the gull. The

sagacity with which he feels and forescents his way into
Roderigo is only equaled by the skill with which, while
clinching the nail of one conquest, he prepares the sub-
ject, by a sort of forereaching process, for a further con-
quest.
Roderigo, not preoccupied with vices, is empty of
if
virtues ; Iago has but to play upon his vanity and
so that
passion, and ruin him through these. But Othello has no
such avenues open the villain can reach him only through B
:

his virtues has no way to work his ruin but by turning

;
j

his honor and integrity against him. And the same ex- 1

quisite tact of character, which prompts his, frankness to I

xxvii
 — ;

Introduction OTHELLO
the former, counsels the utmost closeness to the latter.
Knowing Othello's "perfect soul," he dare not make to him
the least tender of dishonorable services, lest he should repel
his confidence, and incur his resentment. Still he is quite
moderate in his professions, taking shrewd care not to
whiten the sepulcher so much as to provoke an investiga-
tion of its contents. He therefore rather modestly ac-
knowledges his conscientious scruples than boasts of them
as though, being a soldier, he feared that such things
might speak more for his virtue than for his manhood.
And yet his reputation for exceeding honesty has some-
thing suspicious about it, for it looks as though he had
studied to make that virtue somewhat of a speciality in
his outward carriage; whereas true honesty, like charity,
naturally shrinks from being matter of public fame, lest
by notoriety it should get corrupted into vanity or pride.
Iago's method with the Moor is, to intermix confession
and pretension in such a way that the one may be taken as
proof of modesty, the other, of fidelity. When, for exam-
ple, he affects to disqualify his own testimony, on the
ground that "it is his nature's plague to spy into abuses,"
he of course designs a contrary impression as, in actual
;

life, men often acknowledge real vices, in order to be ac-

quitted of them. That his accusation of others may stand
the clearer of distrust, he prefaces it by accusing himself.
Acting, too, as if he spared no pains to be right, yet still
feared he was wrong, his very opinions carry the weight
of facts, as having forced themselves upon him against
his will. When, watching his occasion, he proceeds to set
his scheme of mischief at work, his mind seems struggling
with some terrible secret which he dare not let out, yet can-
not keep in; which breaks from him in spite of himself,
and even because of his fear to utter it. He thus man-
ages to be heard and still seem overheard, that so he may
not be held responsible for his words, any more than if he
had spoken in his sleep. In those well-known lines,
"Good name, in man and woman, is the immediate jewel of
their souls," etc., —he but gives out that he is restrained
xxviii
 ;

THE MOOR Introduction

only by tenderness to others from uttering what would

blast them. And there is, withal, a dark, frightful sig-
nificance in his manner, which puts the hearer in an agony
of curiosity the more he refuses to tell his thoughts, the
:

more he sharpens the desire to know them: when ques-

tioned, he so states his reasons for not speaking, that in
effect they compel the Moor to extort the secret from him.
For his purpose is, not merely to deceive Othello, but to
get his thanks for deceiving him.
It is worth remarking, that Iago has a peculiar classi-
fication, whereby all the movements of our nature fall
under the two heads of sensual and rational. Now, the
healthy mind is marked by openness to impressions from
without is apt to be overmastered by the inspiration of
;

external objects; in which case the understanding is kept

subordinate to the social, moral, and religious sentiments.
But our ancient despises all this. Man, argues he, is made
up altogether of intellect and appetite, so that whatever
motions do not spring from the former must be referred
to the latter. The yielding to inspirations from without
argues an ignoble want of spiritual force; to be overmas-
tered by external objects, infers a conquest of the flesh
over the mind all the religions of our nature, as love,
;

honor, reverence, according to this liberal and learned

spirit are but "a lust of the blood and a permission of the
will," and therefore things to be looked down upon with
contempt. Hence, when his mind walks amidst the better
growings of humanity, he is "nothing, if not critical": so
he pulls up every flower, however beautiful, to find a flaw
in the root ;and of course flaws the root in pulling it.
For, indeed, he has, properly speaking, no susceptibilities
his mind is perfectly unimpressible, receives nothing,
yields to nothing, but cuts its way through every thing like
a flint.
It appears, then, that in Iago intellectuality itself is
made a character; that is, the intellect has cast off all al-
legiance to the moral and religious sentiments, and become
a law and an impulse to itself so that the mere fact of his
;
Introduction OTHELLO
being able to do a thing is sufficient reason for doing it.
For, in such cases, the mind comes to act, not for any
outward ends or objects, but merely for the sake of act-
ing; has a passion for feats of agility and strength; and
may even go so far as to revel amid the dangers and diffi-
culties of wicked undertakings. We thus have, not in-
deed a craving for carnal indulgences, but a cold, dry
pruriency of intellect, or as Mr. Dana aptly styles it, "a
lust of the brain," which naturally manifests itself in a
fanaticism of mischief, a sort of hungering and thirsting
after unrighteousness. Of course, therefore, Iago shows
no addiction to sensualities: on the contrary, all his pas-
sions are concentrated in the head, all his desires eminently
spiritual and Satanical; so that he scorns the lusts of the
flesh, or, if indulging them at all, generally does it in a
criminal way, and not so much for the indulgence as for
the criminality involved. Such appears to be the motive
principle of Satan, who, so far as we know, is neither a
glutton, nor a wine-bibber, nor a debauchee, but an imper-
sonation of pride and self-will; and therefore prefers such
a line of action as will most exercise and demonstrate his
power.
Edmund in King Lear, seeing his road clear but for
moral restraints, politely bows them out of door, lest they
should hinder the free working of his faculties. Iago
differs from him, in that he chooses rather to invade than
elude the laws of morality: when he sees Duty coming, he
takes no pains to play round or get by her, but rather
goes out of his way to meet her, as if on purpose to spit
in her face and walk over her. That a thing ought not to
be done, is thus with him a motive for doing it, because,
the worse the deed, the more it shows his freedom and
power. When he owns to himself that "the Moor is of a
constant, loving, noble nature," it is not so much that he
really feels these qualities in him, as that, granting him to
have them, there is the greater merit in hating him. For
anybody can hate a man for his faults; but to hate a man
for his virtues, is something original; involves, so to
XXX
 !

THE MOOR Introduction

speak, a declaration of moral independence. So, too, in

the soliloquy where he speaks of loving Desdemona, he
first disclaims any unlawful passion for her, and then adds,

parenthetically, "though, peradventure, I stand account-

ant for as great a sin"; as much as to say, that whether
guilty or not he did not care, and dared the responsibility
at all events. So that, to adopt a distinction from Dr.
Chalmers, he here seems not so much an atheist as an
antitheist in morality. We
remember that the late Mr.
Booth, in pronouncing these words, cast his eyes upwards,
as if looking Heaven in the face with a sort of defiant
smile
That Iago prefers lying to telling the truth, is implied
in what we have said. Perhaps, indeed, such a preference
is inseparable from his inordinate intellectuality. For it
is a great mistake to suppose that a man's love of truth
will needs be in proportion to his intellectuality: on the
contrary, an excess of this may cause him to prefer lies,
as yielding larger scope for activity and display of mind.
For they who thrive by the truth naturally attribute their
thrift to her power, not to their own and success, com-
;

ing to them as a gift, rather humbles than elates them.

On the other hand, he who thrives by lying can reckon him-
self an overmatch for truth; he seems to owe none of his
success to nature, but rather to have wrung it out in
spite of her. Even so, Iago's characteristic satisfaction
seems to stand in a practical reversing of moral distinc-
tions; for example, in causing his falsehood to do the work
of truth, or another's truth, the work of falsehood. For,
to make virtue pass for virtue, and pitch for pitch, is no
triumph at all; but to make the one pass for the other, is
a triumph indeed !Iago glories in thus seeming to con-
vict appearance of untruth in compelling nature, as it
;

were, to own her secret deceptions, and acknowledge him

too much for her. Hence his adroit practice to appear as
if serving Roderigo, while really using him. Hence his
purpose, not merely to deceive the Moor, but to get his
thanks for doing so. Therefore it is that he takes such a
xxxi
 ;

Introduction OTHELLO
malicious pleasure in turning Desdemona's conduct wrong
side out ; for, the more angel she, the greater his triumph
in making her seem a devil.
There is, indeed, no touching the bottom of Iago's art:
sleepless, unrelenting, inexhaustible, with an energy that
never flags, and an alertness that nothing can surprise,
he outwits every obstacle and turns it into an ally the;

harder the material before him, the more greedily does he

seize it, the more adroitly work it, the more effectively
make it tell; and absolutely persecutes the Moor with a
redundancy of proof. When, for instance, Othello drops
the words, "and yet how nature, erring from itself"
meaning simply that no woman is altogether exempt from
frailty; Iago with inscrutable sleight-of-hand forthwith
steals in upon him, under cover of this remark, a cluster of
pregnant insinuations, as but so many inferences from his
suggestion ; and so manages to impart his own thoughts to
the Moor by seeming to derive them from him. Othello
is thus brought to distrust all his original perceptions, to

renounce his own understanding, and accept Iago's instead.

And such, in fact, is Iago's aim, the very earnest and
pledge of his intellectual mastery. Nor is there any thing
that he seems to take with more gust, than the pain he in-
flicts by making the Moor think himself a fool; that he has
been the easy dupe of Desdemona's arts ; and that he owes
his deliverance to the keener insight and sagacity of his
honest, faithful ancient.
But there is scarce any wickedness conceivable, into
which such a lust and pride of intellect and will may not
carry a man. Craving for action of the most exciting
kind, there is a fascination for him in the very danger of
crime. Walking the plain, safe, straight-forward path
of truth and nature, does not excite and occupy him
enough he prefers to thread the dark, perilous intricacies
;

of some hellish plot, or to balance himself, as it were, on

a rope stretched over an abyss, where danger stimulates and
success demonstrates his agility. Even if remorse over-
take such a man, its effect is to urge him deeper into crime
xxxii
THE MOOR Introduction

as the desperate gamester naturally tries to bury his

chagrin at past losses in the increased excitement of a
larger stake.
Critics have puzzled themselves a good deal about
Iago's motives. The truth is, "natures such as his spin
motives out of their own bowels." What is said of one of
Wordsworth's characters in The Borderers, holds equally
true of our ancient:

"There needs no other motive

Than that most strange incontinence in crime
Which haunts this Oswald. Power is life to him
And breath and being; where he cannot govern,
He will destroy."

If be objected to this view, that Iago states his mo-

it

tives to Roderigo we answer, Iago is a liar, and is trying

;

to dupe Roderigo and knows he must allege some motives,

;

to make the other trust him. Or, if it be objected that he

states them in soliloquy, when there is no one present for
him to deceive again we answer, Yes there is the verv
;
;

one he cares most to deceive, namely, himself. And in-

deed the terms of this statement clearly denote a foregone
conclusion, the motives coming in only as an after-thought.
The truth is, he cannot quite look his purpose in the face,
it is a little too fiendish for his steady gaze and he tries to?
;

hunt up or conjure up some motives, to keep the peace be-

tween it and his conscience. This is what Coleridge justly
calls "the motive-hunting of a motionless malignity" and;

!"
well may he add, "how awful it is
Much has been said about Iago's acting from revenge.
But he has no cause for revenge, unless to deserve his love
be such a cause. For revenge supposes some injury re-
ceived, real or fancied; and the sensibility whence it springs
cannot but make some discrimination as to its objects. So
that, if this were his motive, he would respect the innocent
while crushing the guilty, there being, else, no revenge in
the case. The impossibility, indeed, of accounting for
his conduct on such grounds is the very reason why the
xxxiii
 ;

Introduction OTHELLO
character, judged on such grounds, has been pronounced
unnatural. It is true, he tries to suspect, first Othello,
and then Cassio, of having wronged him: he even finds or
feigns a certain rumor to that effect; yet shows, by his
manner of talking about it, that he does not himself be-
lieve it, or rather does not care whether it be true or
not. And he elsewhere owns that the reasons he alleges
are but pretenses after all. Even while using his divin-
ity, he knows it is the "divinity of hell," else he would
scorn to use it and boasts of the intention to entrap his
;

victims through their friendship for him, as if his obli-

gations to them were his only provocations against them.
For, to bad men, obligations often are provocations.
That he ought to honor them, and therefore envies them,
is the only wrong they have done him, or that he thinks

they have done him; and he means to indemnify himself

for their right to his honor, by ruining them through the
very gifts and virtues which have caused his envy. Mean-
while, he amuses his reasoning powers by inventing a sort
of ex-post-facto motives for his purpose; the same
wicked busy-mindedness, that suggests the crime, prompt-
ing him to play with the possible reasons for it.
We have dwelt the longer on Iago, because without a
just and thorough insight of him Othello cannot be rightly
understood, as the source and quality of his action require
to be judged from the influences that are made to work
upon him. The Moor has for the most part been re-
garded as specially illustrating the workings of jealousy.
Whether there be any thing, and, if so, how much, of this
passion in him, may indeed be questions having two sides
but we may confidently affirm that he has no special pre-
disposition to jealousy; and that whatsoever of it there
may be in him does not grow in such a way, nor from such
causes, that it can justly be held as the leading feature of
his character, much less as his character itself ; though
such has been the view more commonly taken of him. On
this point, there has been a strange ignoring of the in-
scrutable practices in which his passion originates. In-
xxxiv
THE MOOR Introduction

stead of going behind the scene, and taking its grounds of

judgment directly from the subject himself, criticism has
trusted overmuch in what is said of him by other persons
in the drama, to whom he must perforce seem jealous, be-
cause they know and can know nothing of the devilish cun-
ning that has been at work with him. And the common
opinion has no doubt been much furthered by the stage,
Iago's villainy being represented as so open and barefaced,
that the Moor must have been grossly stupid or grossly
jealous not to see through him; whereas, in fact, so subtle
is the villain's craft, so close and involved are his designs,

that Othello deserves but the more respect and honor for
being taken in by him.
Coleridge is very bold and clear in defense of the Moor.
"Othello," says he, "does not kill Desdemona in jealousy,
but in a conviction forced upon him by the almost super-
—
human art of Iago, such a conviction as any man would
and must have entertained, who had believed Iago's hon-
esty as Othello did. We, the audience, know that Iago is
a villain from the beginning; but, in considering the es-
sence of the Shakespearean Othello, we must persever-
ingly place ourselves in his situation, and under his
circumstances. Then we shall immediately feel the funda-
mental difference between the solemn agony of the noble
Moor, and the wretched fishing jealousy of Leontes."
Iago describes jealousy as "the monster that doth make
the meat it feeds on." And Emilia speaks to the same
sense, when Desdemona acquits her husband of jealousy
on the ground that she has never given him cause: "But
jealous souls will not be answer'd so; they are not ever
jealous for the cause, but jealous, for they're jealous."
If jealousy be indeed such a thing as is here described,
it seems clear enough that a passion thus self-generated
and self-sustained ought not to be confounded with a state
of mind superinduced, like Othello's, by forgery of ex-
ternal proofs,— a forgery wherein himself has no share
but as the victim. And we may safely affirm that he has
no aptitude for such a passion; it is against the whole
XXXV
 ;

Introduction OTHELLO
grain of his mind and character. Iago evidently knows
this knows the Moor to be incapable of spontaneous dis-
;

trust that he must see, before he'll doubt; that when he

;

doubts, he'll prove and that when he has proved, he will re-
;

tain his honor at all events, and retain his love, if it be

compatible with honor. Accordingly, lest the Moor should
suspect himself of jealousy, Iago pointedly warns him to
beware of it; puts him on his guard against such self-delu-
sions, that so his mind may be more open to the force of
evidence, and lest from fear of being jealous he should
entrench himself in the opposite extreme, and so be proof
against conviction.
The struggle, then, in Othello is not between love and
jealousy, but between love and honor; and Iago's machina-
tions are exactly adapted to bring these two latter passions
into collision. Indeed it is the Moor's very freedom from
a jealous temper, that enables the villain to get the mas-
tery of him. Such a character as his,, so open, so gener-
ous, so confiding, is just the one to be taken in the strong
toils of Iago's cunning to have escaped them, would have
;

argued him a partaker of the strategy under which he

falls. It is both the law and the impulse of a high and
delicate honor, to rely on another's word, unless we have
proof to the contrary to presume that things and per-
;

sons are what they seem: and it is an impeachment of our

own veracity to suspect falsehood in one who bears a char-
acter for truth. Such is precisely the Moor's condition
in respect to Iago a man whom he has long known, and
;

never caught in a lie whom he as often trusted, and never

;

seen cause to regret it. So that, in our judgment of the

Moor, we ought to proceed as if his wife were really
guilty of what she is charged with; for, were she ever so
guilty, he could scarce have stronger proof than he has
and that the evidence owes all its force to the plotting and
lying of another, surely makes nothing against him.
Nevertheless, we are far from upholding that Othello
does not at any stage of the proceedings show signs of
jealousy. For the elements of this passion exist in the
xxxvi
 ;

THE MOOR Introduction

strongest and healthiest minds, and may be kindled into a

transient sway over their motions, or at least so as to
put them on the alert; and all we mean to affirm is, that
jealousy is not Othello's characteristic, and does not form
The actuating principle of his conduct. It is indeed cer-
tain that he doubts before he has proof ; but then it is
also certain that he does not act upon his doubt, till proof
has been given him. As to the rest, it seems to us there
can be no dispute about the thing, but only about the term
some understanding by jealousy one thing, some another.
We presume that no one would have spoken of the Moor as
acting from jealousy, in case his wife had really been
guilty his course would then have been regarded simply as
:

the result of conviction upon evidence; which is to our

mind nearly decisive of the question.
Accordingly, in the killing of Desdemona we have the
proper marks of a judicial as distinguished from a re-
vengeful act. The Moor goes about her death calmly and
religiously, as a duty from which he would gladly escape
by his own death, if he could; and we feel that his heart
is wrung with inexpressible anguish, though his hand is

firm. It is a part of his heroism, that as he prefers her

to himself, so he prefers honor to her; and he manifestly
contemplates her death as a sacrifice due to the institution
which he fully believes, and has reason to believe, she has
mocked and profaned. So that we cordially subscribe to
the words of Ulrici respecting him: "Jealousy and re-
venge seize his mind but transiently ; they spring up and
pass away with the first burst of passion ; being indeed but
the momentary phases under which love and honor, the rul-
ing principles of his soul, evince the deep wounds they are
suffering."
The general custom of the stage has been, to represent
Othello as a full-blooded Negro; and criticism has been
a good deal exercised of late on the question whether
Shakespeare really meant him for such. The only ex-
pression in the play that would fairly infer him to be a
Negro, is Roderigo's "thick-lips." But Roderigo there
xxxvii
 —

Introduction OTHELLO
speaks as a disappointed lover, seeking to revenge him-
self on the cause of his disappointment. We all know how
common it is for coxcombs like him, when balked and morti-
fied in rivalry with their betters, to fly off into extravagant
terms of disparagement and reproach their petulant van-
;

ity easing and soothing itself by calling them any thing

they may wish them to be. It is true, the Moor is sev-
eral times spoken of as black but this term was often
;

used, as it still is, of a tawny skin in comparison with

one that is fair. So in Antony and Cleopatra the heroine
speaks of herself as being "with Phoebus' amorous pinches
black"; and in The Two Gentlemen of Verona Thurio,
when told that Silvia says his face is a fair one, replies,
"Nay, then the wanton lies: my face is black." But, in-
deed, the calling a dark-complexioned white person black
is as common as almost any form of speech in the lan-

guage.
It would seem, from Othello's being so often called
"the Moor," that there ought to be no question about
what the Poet meant him to be. For the difference be-
tween Moors and Negroes was probably as well under-
stood in his time as it is now and there is no more evi-
;

dence in this play that he thought them the same, than

there is in The Merchant of Venice, where the Prince of
Morocco comes as a suitor to Portia, and in a stage-direc-
tion of the old quarto is called "a tawny Moor." Othello
was a Mauritanian prince, for Iago in Act IV, sc. ii,
speaks of his purposed retirement to Mauritania as his
home. Consistently with this, the same speaker in another
place uses terms implying him to be a native of Barbary,
Mauritania being the old name of one of the Barbary
States. Iago, to be sure, is an unscrupulous liar; but
then he has more cunning than to lie when telling the
truth will stand with his purpose, as it evidently will here.
So that there needs no scruple about endorsing the argu-
ment of White, in his Shakespeare's Scholar.
"Shakespeare," says he, "nowhere calls Othello an Ethi-
opian, and also does not apply the term to Aaron in the
xxxviii
 —

THE MOOR Introduction

horrible Titus Andronicus; but he continually speaks of

both as Moors ; and as he has used the first word else-
where, and certainly had use for it as a reproach in the
mouth of Iago, it seems that he must have been fully
aware of the distinction in grade between the two races.
Indeed I never could see the least reason for supposing
that Shakespeare intended Othello to be represented as a
Negro. With the Negroes, the Venetians, had nothing to
do, that we know of , /and could not have in the natural
course of things ; whereas, with their over-the-way neigh-
bors, the Moors, they were continually brought in con-
tact. These were a warlike, civilized, and enterprising
race, which could furnish an Othello."
That the question may, if possible, be thoroughly shut
up and done with, we will add the remarks of Coleridge on
the aforesaid custom of the stage: "Even if we supposed
this an uninterrupted tradition of the theater, and that
Shakespeare himself, from want of scenes, and the ex-
perience that nothing could be made too marked for the
senses of his audience, had practically sanctioned it,
would this prove aught concerning his own intention as
a poet for all ages? Can we imagine him so utterly ig-
norant as to make a barbarous Negro plead royal birth,
at a time, too, when Negroes were not known except as
slaves? As for Iago's language to Brabantio, it implies
merely that Othello was a Moor, that is, black. Though
I think the rivalry of Roderigo sufficient to account for
his willful confusion of Moor and Negro; yet, even if
compelled to give this up, I should think it only adapted
for the acting of the day, and should complain of an enor-
mity built on a single word, in direct contradiction to
Iago's 'Barbary horse.' Besides, if we could in good
earnest believe Shakespeare ignorant of the distinction,
still why should we adopt one disagreeable possibility, in-

stead of a ten times greater and more pleasing probability?

It is a common error to mistake the epithets applied by
the dramatis personce to each other, as truly descriptive of
what the audience ought to see or know. No doubt.
xxxix
Introduction OTHELLO
Desdemona 'saw Othello's visage in his mind' yet, as we
;

are constituted, and most surely as an English audience

was disposed in the beginning of the seventeenth century,
it would be something monstrous to conceive this beauti-

ful Venetian girl falling in love with a veritable Negro.

It would argue a disproportionateness, a want of balance in
Desdemona, which Shakespeare does not appear to have in
the least contemplated."
The character of Othello, direct and single in itself, is
worked out with great breadth and clearness. And here
again the first Act is peculiarly fruitful of significant
points ; furnishing, in respect of him as of Iago, the
seminal ideas of which the subsequent details are the nat-
ural issues and offshoots. In the opening scene we have
Iago telling various lies about the Moor; yet his lying is
so managed as, while affecting its immediate purpose on
the gull, to be at the same time more or less suggestive of
the truth: he caricatures Othello, but is too artful a cari-
caturist to let the peculiar features of the subject be lost
in an excess of misrepresentation ; that is, there is truth
enough in what he says, to make it pass with one who
wishes it true, and whose mind is too weak to prevent such
a wish from growing into belief.
Othello's mind is strongly charged with the natural en-
thusiasm of high principle and earnest feeling, and this
gives a certain elevated and imaginative turn to his man-
ner of thought and speech. In the deportment of such a
man there is apt to be something upon which a cold and
crafty malice can easily stick the imputation of being
haughty and grandiloquent, or of "loving his own pride
and purposes." Especially, when urged with unseason-
able or impertinent solicitations, his answers are apt to.be
in such a style, that they can hardly pass through an
Iagoish mind, without catching the air of strutting and
bombastic evasion. For a man like Othello will not stoop
to be the advocate or apologist of himself it is enough
:

that he stands justified to his own sense of right, and if

others dislike his course, this does not shake him, as he
xl
THE MOOR Introduction

did not take itwith a view to please them: he acts from

his own mind; and to explain his conduct, save where he
is responsible, looks like soliciting an endorsement from

others, as though the consciousness of rectitude were not

enough to sustain him. Such a man, if his fortune and
his- other parts be at all in proportion, commonly suc-

ceeds ; for by his strength of character he naturally creates

a sphere which himself alone can fill, and so makes him-
self necessary. On the other hand, a subtle and malig-
nant rogue, like Iago, while fearing to be known as the
enemy of such a man, envies his success, and from this
envy affects contempt of his qualities. For the proper
triumph of a bad man over his envied superiors is, to scoff
at the very gifts which gnaw him.
The intimations, then, derived from Iago lead us to re-
gard the Moor, before we meet with him, as one who de-
liberates calmly, and therefore decides firmly. His refus-
ing to explain his conduct where he is not responsible, is
a pledge that he will not shrink from any responsibility
where he truly owes it. In his first reply when urged by
Iago to elude Brabantio's pursuit, our expectations are
made good. We see that, as he acts from honor and prin-
ciple, so he will cheerfully abide the consequences. Full
of equanimity and firmness, he is content to let the rea-
sons of his course appear in the issues thereof whereas
;

Iago delights in stating his reasons, as giving scope for

mental activity and display.
From his characteristic intrepidity and calmness, the
Moor, as we learn in the sequel, has come to be esteemed,
by those who know him best, as one whom "passion can-
not shake." For the passions are in him botrT tempered
and strengthened by the energy of higher principles and,
;

if kept under reason, the stronger they are, the more they
exalt reason. This feature of Othello is well seen at his
meeting with Brabantio and attendants, when the parties
are on the point of fighting, and he quiets them by ex-
claiming, "Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will
rust them ;" where the belligerent spirit is as much charmed
xli
 Introduction OTHELLO
down by his playful logic, as overawed by his sternness
of command. So, too, when Brabantio calls out, "Down
with him, thief!" and he replies, "Good signior, you shall
more command with years than with your weapons."
Such is our sturdy warrior's habitual carriage: no up-
start exigency disconcerts him ; no obloquy exasperates
him to violence or recrimination: peril, perplexity, provo-
cation rather augment than impair his self-possession; and
the more deeply he is stirred, the more calmly and steadily
he acts. This calmness of intensity is most finely dis-
played in his address to the Senate, where the words,
though they fall on the ear as softly as an evening breeze,
seem charged with life from every part of his being. All
is grace and modesty and gentleness, yet what strength

and dignity! the union of perfect repose and impassioned

energy. Perhaps the finest point of contrast between
Othello and Iago lies in the method of their several minds,
lago is morbidly introversive and. self -explicative ; his
mind is ever busy spinning out its own contents ; and he
takes no pleasure either in viewing or in showing things,
tillhe has baptized them in his own spirit, and then seems
chuckling inwardly as he holds them up reeking with the
slime he has dipped them in. In Othello, on the contrary,
every thing is direct, healthy, objective; and he reproduces
in transparent diction the truth as revealed to him from
without his mind being like a clear, even mirror which, in-
;

visible itself, renders back in its exact shape and color what-
^ soever stands before it.
We know of nothing in Shakespeare that has this qual-
ity more conspicuous than the Moor's account "how he did
thrive in this fair lady's love, and she in his." The dark
man eloquent literally speaks in pictures. We see the
silent blushing maiden moving about her household tasks,
ever and anon turning her eye upon the earnest warrior;
leaving the door open as she goes out of the room, that
she may catch the tones of his voice hastening back to
;

her father's side, as though drawn to the spot by some

new impulse of filial attachment; afraid to look the speaker
xlii
THE MOOR Introduction

in the face, yet unable to keep out of his presence, and

drinking in with ear and heart every word of his
marvelous tale: the Moor, meanwhile, waxing more elo-
quent when this modest listener was by, partly because he
saw she was interested, and partly because he wished to in-
terest her still more. Yet we believe all he says, for the
virtual presence of the things he describes enables us, as it
were, to test his fidelity of representation.
In his simplicity, however, he lets out a truth of which
he seems not to have been aware. At Brabantio's fireside
he has been unwittingly making love by his manner, be-
fore he was even conscious of loving; and thought he was
but listening for a disclosure of the lady's feelings^'hile
he was really soliciting a response to his own for this is
:

a matter wherein heart often calls and answers to heart,

without giving the head any notice of its proceedings.
His quick perception of the interest he had awakened is
a confession of the interest he felt, the state of his mind
coming out in his anxiety to know that of hers. And how
natural it was that he should thus honestly think he was
but returning her passion, while it was his own passion
that caused him to see or suspect she had any to be re-
turned And so she seems to have understood the mat-
!

ter; whereupon, appreciating the modesty that kept him

silent, she gave him a hint of encouragement to speak.
In his feelings, moreover, respect keeps pace with affec-
tion and he involuntarily seeks some tacit assurance of a
;

return of his passion as a sort of permission to cherish

and confess it. It is this feeling that originates the deli-
cate, reverential courtesy, the ardent, yet distant, and there-
fore beautiful regards, with which a truly honorable mind
—
towards its best object; a feel-
instinctively attires itself
ing that throws a majestic grace around the most unprom-
ising figure, and endows the plainest features with some-
thing more eloquent than beauty.
The often-alleged unfitness of Othello's match has been
mainly disposed of by what we have already said respect-
ing his origin. The rest of it, if there be any, may be
xliii ^
Introduction OTHELLO
safely left to the facts of his being honored by the Vene-
tian Senate and of his being a cherished guest at Bra-
bantio's fireside. At all events, we cannot help thinking
that the noble Moor and his sweet lady have the very
sort of resemblance which people thus united ought to
have; and their likeness seems all the better for being
joined with so much of unlikeness. It is the chaste, beau-
tiful wedlock of meekness and magnanimity, where the in-
ward correspondence stands the more approved for the out-
ward diversity and reminds us of what we are too apt to
;

forget, that the stout, valiant soul is the chosen home of

reverence and tenderness. Our heroic warrior's dark,
rough exterior is found to enclose a heart strong as a
giant's, yet soft and sweet as infancy. Such a marriage
of bravery and gentleness proclaims that beauty is an over-
match for strength; and that true delicacy is among the
highest forms of power.
Equally beautiful is the fact, that Desdemona has the
heart to recognize the proper complement of herself be-
neath such an uninviting appearance. Perhaps none but
so pure and gentle a being could have discerned the real
gentleness of Othello through so many obscurations. To
her fine sense, that tale of wild adventures and mischances,
—
which often did beguile her of her tears, a tale wherein
another might have seen but the marks of a rude, coarse,
—
animal strength, disclosed the history of a most meek,
brave, manly soul. Nobly blind to whatsoever is repulsive
in his manhood's vesture of accidents, her thoughts are
filled with "his honors and his valiant parts" ; his ungra-
cious aspect is lost to her in his graces of character; and
the shrine, that were else so unattractive to look upon, is
made beautiful by the life with which her chaste eye sees it
irradiated.
In herself, Desdemona isnot more interesting than sev-
eral of the Poet's women but perhaps none of the oth-
;

ers is in a condition so proper for developing the inner-

most springs of pathos. In her characterful sufferings
there is a nameless something that haunts the reader's mind,
xliv
 THE MOOR Introduction

and hangs like a spell of compassionate sorrow upon the

beatings of his heart his thoughts revert to her and linger
:

about her, as under a mysterious fascination of pity which

they cannot shake off, and which is only kept from being
painful by the sacred charm of beauty and eloquence that
blends with the feeling while kindling it. It is remark-
able, that the sympathies are not so deeply moved in the
scene of her death, as in that where by the blows of her
husband's hand and tongue she is made to feel that she
has lost him. Too innocent to suspect that she is sus-
pected, she cannot for a long time understand nor imagine
the motive of his harshness ; and her errings in quest of ex-
« cuses and apologies for him are deeply pathetic, inasmuch
as they manifestly spring from her incapability of an
impure thought. And the sense that the heart of his con-
fidence is gone from her, and for what cause it is gone,
comes upon her like a dead stifling weight of agony and
woe, which benumbs her to all other pains. She does not
show any thing that can be properly called pangs of suf-
fering; the effect is too deep for that; the blow falling
so heavy that it stuns her sensibilities into a sort of
lethargy.
Desdemona's character may almost be said to consist
in the union of purity and impressibility. All her organs
of sense and motion seem perfectly ensouled, and her vis-
ible form instinct in every part with the spirit and intelli-
gence of moral life.
"We understood
Her by her sight; her pure and eloquent blood
Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought,
That one might almost say her body thought."

Hence her father "maiden never bold;

describes her as a
of spirit so still and motion blush'd at
quiet, that her
itself." Which gives the idea of a being whose whole
frame is so receptive of influences and impressions from
without, who lives so entranced amid a world of beauty
and delight, that her soul keeps ever looking and listen-
ing; and if at any time she chance upon a stray thought
xlv

/
Introduction OTHELLO
or vision of herself, she shrinks back surprised and abashed,
as though she had caught herself in the presence of a
stranger whom modesty kept her from looking in the face.
It is through this most delicate impressibility that she

sometimes gets frightened out of her real character; as in

her equivocation about the handkerchief, and her child-
like pleading for life in the last, scene; where her perfect
candor and resignation are overmastered by sudden im-
pressions of terror.
But, with all her openness to influences from without,
she is still susceptive only of the good. No element of
impurity can insinuate itself. Her nature seems wrought
about with some subtle texture of moral sympathies and
antipathies, which selects as by instinct whatsoever is pure,
without taking any thought or touch of the evil mixed
with it. Even Iago's moral oil-of-vitriol cannot eat a
passage into her mind: from his envenomed wit she ex-
tracts the element of harmless mirth, without receiving or
suspecting the venom with which it is charged. Thus the
world's contagions pass before her, yet dare not touch
nor come near her, because she has nothing to sympathize
with them or own their acquaintance. And so her life is
like a quiet stream,

"In whose calm depth the beautiful and pure

Alone are mirror'd; which, though shapes of ill

Do hover round its surface, glides in light,

And takes no shadow from them."

Desdemona's heroism, we fear, is not of the kind to

take very well with such an age of individual ensconcement
as the present. Though of a "high and plenteous wit and
invention," this quality never makes any special report of
itself: like Cordelia, all the parts of her being speak in
such harmony that the intellectual tones may not be dis-
tinctly heard. Besides, her mind and character were
formed under that old-fashioned way of thinking which,
regarding man and wife as socially one, legislated round
them, not between them; so that the wife naturally sought
xlvi
THE MOOR Introduction

protection in her husband, instead of resorting to legal

methods for protection against him. Affection does in-
deed fill her with courage and energy of purpose: she is
heroic to link her life with the man she loves ; heroic to do
and suffer with him and for him after she is his ; but, poor
gentle soul! she knows no heroism that can prompt her,
in respect of him, to cast aside the awful prerogative of
def enselessness that she has lost him, is what hurts her;
:

and this is a hurt that cannot be salved with anger or re-

sentment: so that her only strength is to be meek, uncom-
plaining, submissive in the worst that his hand may exe-
cute. Swayed by that power whose "favorite seat is fee-
ble woman's breast," she is of course "a child to chiding,"
and sinks beneath unkindness, instead of having the spirit
to outface it.
They err greatly, who think to school Desdemona in the
doctrine of woman's rights. When her husband has been
shaken from his confidence in her truth and loyalty, what
can she care for her rights as a woman? To be under the
necessity of asserting them, is to have lost and more than
lost them. A constrained abstinence from evil deeds and
unkind words bears no price with her; and to be sheltered
from the wind and storm, is worse than nothing, unless she
have a living fountain of light and warmth in the being
that shelters her. But, indeed, the beauty of the woman
is so hid in the affection and obedience of the wife, that

it seems almost a profanation to praise it. As brave to

suffer wrong as she is fearful to do it, there is a holiness
in her mute resignation which ought, perhaps, to be kept,
where the Poet has left it, veiled from all save those whom
a severe discipline of humanity may have qualified for duly
respecting it. At all events, whoever would get at her se-
cret, let him study her as a pupil, not as a critic ; and until
his inmost heart speaks her approval, let him rest as-
sured that he is not competent to judge her. But if he
have the gift to see that her whole course, from the first
intimation of the gentle, submissive daughter, to the last
groan of the ever-loving, ever-obedient, broken-hearted
xlvii
Introduction OTHELLO
wife, is replete with the beauty and grace and holiness of
womanhood, then let him weep, weep, for her so may he de-
;

part "a sadder and a wiser man." As for her unresisting

submissiveness, let no man dare to defend it! Assuredly,
we shall do her a great wrong, if we suppose for a mo-
ment that she would not rather die by her husband's hand,
than owe her life to any protection against him. What,
indeed, were life, what could it be to her, since suspicion
has fallen on her innocency ? That her husband could not,
would not, dare not wrong her, even because she had
trusted in him, and because in her sacred defenselessness
she could not resist nor resent the wrong, —
this is the
only protection from which she would not pray to be de-
livered.
Coleridge has justly remarked upon the art shown in
Iago, that the character, with all its inscrutable deprav-
ity, neither revolts nor seduces the mind: the interest of
Jiis part amounts almost to fascination, yet there is not

the slightest moral taint or infection about it. Hardly

less wonderful is the Poet's skill in carrying the Moor
through such a course of undeserved infliction, without any
loosening from him of our sympathy or respect. Deep
and intense as is the feeling that goes along with Desde-
mona, Othello fairly divides it with her: nay, more; the
virtues and sufferings of each are so managed as to
heighten the interest of the other. The impression still
waits upon him, that he does "nought in hate, but all in
honor." Nor is the mischief made to work through any
vice or weakness perceived or left in him, but rather
through such qualities as lift him higher in our regard.
Under the conviction that she, in whom he had built his
faith and garnered up his heart, —that she, in whom he
looked to find how much more blessed it is to give than to
receive, has desecrated all his gifts, and turned his very
religion into sacrilege;— under this conviction, all the
poetry, the grace, the consecration, every thing that can
beautify or gladden existence is gone; his whole being,
with its freight of hopes, memories, affections, i« reduced
xlviii
 ;

THE MOOR Introduction

to a total wreck ; a whatsoever has made

last farewell to
life attractive, the conditions, motives, prospects of noble
achievement, is all there is left him: in brief, he feels lit-
erally unmade, robbed not only of the laurels he has won,
but of the spirit that manned him to the winning of them
so that he can neither live nobly nor nobly die, but is
doomed to a sort of living death, an object of scorn and
loathing unto himself. In this state of mind, no wonder
his thoughts reel and totter, and cling convulsively to his
honor, which is the only thing that now remains to him,
until in his efforts to rescue this he loses all, and has no
refuge but in self-destruction. He approaches the aw-
ful task in the bitterness as well as the calmness of despair.
In sacrificing his love to save his honor, he really performs
the most heroic self-sacrifice; for the taking of Desde-
mona's life is to him something worse than to lose his
own. Nor could he ever have loved her so much, had he
not loved honor more. Her love for him, too, is based
upon the very principle that now prompts and nerves him
to the sacrifice. And as at last our pity for her rises into
awe, so our awe of him melts into pity; the catastrophe
thus blending their several virtues and sufferings into one
most profound, solemn, sweetly-mournful impression.
"Othello," says Coleridge, "had no life but in Desdemona:
— the belief that she, his angel, had fallen from the heaven
of her native innocence, wrought a civil war in his heart.
She is his counterpart and, like him, is almost sanctified
;

in our eyes by her absolute unsuspiciousness, and holy en-

tireness of love. As the curtain drops, which do we pity
the most?"

xhx
 —

COMMENTS
By Shakespearean Scholars
OTHELLO
In Othello, Shakespeare means us to recognize the man
of action, whose life has been spent in deeds of military
prowess and adventure, but who has had little experience
either of the ways of society or of the intrigues of weaker
men, Moreover, he is a man apart. A renegade from
his own faith and an outcast from his own people, he is,
indeed, the valued servant of the Venetian state, but is not
regarded as on an equality with its citizens, and that
though, as being of kingly descent, he regards himself as
being at least the equal of its republican citizens. A
homeless man, who had never experienced the soothing in-
fluences of domesticity. In short, a man strong in action
but weak in intellectuality, of natural nobility of character,
knowing no guile in himself and incapable of seeing it in
others; but withal sensitive on the subject of his birth,
and inclined to regard himself as an inheritor of the curse
of outcast Ishmael. Ransome, Short Studies of Shake-
speare's Plots.

Othello has a strong and healthy mind and a vivid im-

agination, but they deal entirely with first impressions,
with obvious facts. If he trusts a man, he trusts him
without the faintest shadow of reserve. Iago's suggestion
that Desdemona is false comes upon him like a thunder-
bolt. He knows this man to be honest, his every word the
absolute truth. He is stunned, and his mind accepts
specious reasonings passively and without examination.
Yet his love is so intense that he struggles against his own
Comments OTHELLO
nature, and for a time compels himself to think, though
not upon the great question whether she is false. He can-
not bring his intellect to attack Iago's conclusions, and
only argues the minor point: Why is she false? But
even this effort is too much for him. It is, I have said,
against nature ; and nature, after the struggle has been
carried on unceasingly for hours, revenges herself — he
falls into a fit. That this is the legitimate climax of over-
powering emotion on an intensely real and single charac-
ter is plain. This obstruction and chaos of the faculties is
the absolute opposite of the brilliant life into which Ham-
let's intellect leaps on its contact with tremendous realities.
—Rose, Sudden Emotion: Its Effect upon Different Char-
acters as Shown by Shakspere.

What a fortunate mistake that the Moor, under which

name a baptized Saracen of the northern coast of Africa
was unquestionably meant in the novel, has been made
by Shakespeare, in every respect, a negro We recognize
!

in Othello the wild nature of that glowing zone which gen-

erates the most raging beasts of prey and the most deadly
poisons, tamed only in appearance by the desire of fame,
by foreign laws of honor, and by nobler and milder man-
ners. His jealousy is not the jealousy of the heart, which
is incompatible w ith the tenderest feeling and adoration
T

of the beloved object; it is of that sensual kind from

which, in burning climes, has sprung the disgraceful ill-
treatment of women and many other unnatural usages.
A drop of this poison flows in his veins, and sets his whole
blood in the most disorderly fermentation. The Moor
seems noble, frank, confiding, grateful for the love shown
him and he is all this, and, moreover, a hero that spurns
;

at danger, a worthy leader of an army, a faithful servant

of the state; but the mere physical force of passion puts
to flight in one moment all his acquired and accustomed
virtues, and gives the upper hand to the savage in him
over the moral man. The tyranny of the blood over the
will betrays itself even in the expression of his desire of
li
 — —

Comments OTHELLO
revenge against Cassio. In his repentance when he views
the evidence of the deed, a genuine tenderness for his mur-
dered wife, and the painful feeling of his annihilated
honor, at last burst forth; and he every now and then
rage a despot shows in punishing
assails himself with the
a runaway slave. He suffers as a double man; at once in
the higher and lower sphere into which his being was di-
vided. Scheegel, Lectures on Dramatic Art and Liter-
ature.

DESDEMONA
The suffering of Desdemona is, unless I mistake, the
most nearly intolerable spectacle that Shakespeare offers
us. For one thing, it is mere suffering; and, ceteris
paribus, that is much worse to witness than suffering that
issues in action. Desdemona is helplessly passive. She
can do nothing whatever. She cannot retaliate even in
speech ; no, not even in silent feeling. And the chief rea-
son of her helplessness only makes the sight of her suf-
fering more exquisitely painful. She is helpless because
her nature is infinitely sweet and her love absolute. I
would not challenge Mr. Swinburne's statement that we
pity Othello even more than Desdemona but we watch
;

Desdemona with more unmitigated distress. We are never

wholly uninfluenced by the feeling that Othello is a man
contending with another man; but Desdemona's suffering
is like that of the most loving of dumb creatures tortured

without cause by the being he adores. Bradley, Shake-

spearean Tragedy.

Nothing in poetry has ever been written more pathetic

than the scene preceding Desdemona's death; I confess I
almost always turn away my eyes from the poor girl with
her infinitely touching song of "Willow, willow, willow,"
and I would fain ask the Poet whether his tragic arrow,
which always hits the mark, does not here pierce almost
too deeply. I would not call the last word with which
she dies a lie, or even a "noble" lie; this qualification has
Hi
 — — — —

THE MOOR Comments'

been wretchedly misused. The lie with which Desdemona

dies is divine truth, too good to come within the compass
of an earthly moral code. Horn, Shakespeare's Schau-
spiele erldutert.

THE MURDER OF DESDEMONA

When Othello thus bows his own lofty nature before
the groveling but most acute worldly intellect of Iago,
his habitual view of "all qualities" had been clouded by
the breath of the slanderer. His confidence in purity and
innocence had been destroyed. The sensual judgment of
"human dealings" had taken the place of the spiritual.
The enthusiastic love and veneration of his wife had been
painted to him as the result of gross passion :

"Not to affect many proposed matches," &c.

His belief in the general prevalence of virtuous motives,

and actions had been degraded to a reliance on the liber-
tine's creed that all are impure:

"there's millions now alive," &c.

When the innocent and the high-minded submit themselves

to the tutelage of the man of the world, as he is called,
the process of mental change is precisely that produced in
the mind of Othello. The poetry of life is gone. On
them, never more
"The freshness of the heart can fall like dew."

They abandon themselves to the betrayer, and they pros-

trate themselves before the energy of his "gain'd knowl-
edge." They feel that in their own original powers of
judgment they have no support against the dogmatism,
and it may be the ridicule, of experience. This is the
course with the young when they fall into the power of the
tempter. But was not Othello in all essentials young?
Was he not of an enthusiastic temperament, confiding, lov-
ing, —most sensitive to opinion, —
jealous of his honor,
liii
 — —
Comments OTHELLO
truly wise, had he trusted to his own pure impulses? —But
he was most weak, in adopting an evil opinion against his
own faith, and conviction, and proof in his reliance upon
the honesty and judgment of a man whom he really
doubted and had never proved. Yet this is the course by
which the highest and noblest intellects are too often sub-
jected to the dominion of the subtle understanding and
the unbridled will. It is an unequal contest between the
principles that are struggling for the master in the indi-
vidual man, when the attributes of the serpent and the dove
are separated, and become conflicting. The wisdom which
belonged to Othello's enthusiastic temperament was his
confidence in the truth and purity of the being with whom
his life was bound up, and his general reliance upon the
better part of human nature, in his judgment of his friend.
When the confidence was destroyed by the craft of his
deadly enemy, his sustaining power was also destroyed;
the balance of his sensitive temperament, was lost his en-;
—
thusiasm became wild passion ;
—
his new belief in the do-
minion of grossness over the apparently pure and good,
shaped itself into gross outrage his honor lent itself to
;

schemes of cruelty and revenge. But even amidst the

whirlwind of this passion, we every now and then hear
something which sounds as the softest echo of love and
gentleness. Perhaps in the whole compass of the Shak-
sperean pathos there is nothing deeper than ''But yet the
pity of it, Iago ! O, Iago, the pity of it, Iago." It is
the contemplated murder of Desdemona which thus tears
his heart. But his "disordered power, engendered within
own destruction," hurries on the catastrophe.
itself to its
We would ask, with Coleridge, "As the curtain drops,
which do we pity the most?" Knight, Pictorial Shak-
speare.

Finally, let me repeat that Othello does not kill Des-

demona in jealousy, but in a conviction forced upon him
—
by the almost superhuman art of Iago, such a conviction
as any man would and must have entertained who had
liv
 —
THE MOOR Comments

believed Iago's honesty as Othello did. We, the audience,

know that Iago is a villain from the beginning; but in
considering the essence of the Shaksperian Othello, we
must perseveringly place ourselves in his situation, and
under his circumstances. Then we shall immediately feel
the fundamental difference between the solemn agony of
the noble Moor, and the wretched fishing jealousies of
Leontes, and the morbid suspiciousness of Leonatus, who
is, in other respects, a fine character. Othello had no life
—
but in Desdemona: the belief that she, his angel, had
fallen from the heaven of her native innocence, wrought a
civil war in his heart. She is his counterpart and, like
;

him, is almost sanctified in our eyes by her absolute un-

suspiciousness, and holy entireness of love. As the curtain
drops, which do Ave pity the most? Coleridge, Lectures
on Shakspere.

IAGO
The Moor has in his service as "ancient" a young Vene-
tian, Iago, of tried military capacity, cheerful temperament
and bluff honesty of bearing. No one, to outward seem-
ing, could be less of a villain, and yet this plausibly re-
spectable exterior covers a fiend in human shape. Iago is
the arch-criminal of Shaksperean drama— "more fell than
anguish, hunger and the sea." Richard III is in many
features his prototype, but the hunchback king is incited
to his unnatural deeds by the consciousness of his physical
deformity. Moreover, though he has taken "Machiavel"
as his master, he is after all an "Italianate" Englishman,
not an Italian, and though he crushes conscience, as he be-
lieves, out of existence, it asserts its power at the last.
But in Iago conscience is completely wanting. He is, as
Coleridge has said, "all will in intellect." He is the incar-
nation of absolute egotism, an egotism that without passion
or even apparent purpose is at chronic feud with the moral
order of the world. His mind is simply a non-conductor
of spiritual elements in life. "Virtue" is to him a "fig,"
love "a lust of the blood, and a permission of the will;"
lv
Comments OTHELLO
reputation, "an idle and most false imposition," whose loss
is a trifle compared with a bodily wound. Hamlet in the
agony of disillusion had compared the world to an un-
weeded garden, occupied solely by things rank and gross
in nature. This is Iago's habitual view, and to him it
causes no particle of pain. Evil is his native element, and
the increase of evil an end in itself. It is, therefore, un-
profitable to discuss in detail the grounds of his hatred to-
wards Othello or his other victims. His is at bottom, to
use Coleridge's phrase, a "motiveless malignity," and he
can scarcely be in earnest with the pretexts which he urges
for his misdeeds, and which vary from day to day.
Othello's advancement, over his head, of Cassio, a Floren-
tine who knows nothing of war but "the bookish theoric,"
might seem a genuine grievance, yet it is noticeable that
after the first few lines of the play Iago scarcely alludes
to this, and makes more of what are evidently imaginary
offenses by Othello and Cassio against his honor as a hus-
band. In one passage he hints vaguely that he loves Des-
demona, and it is significant that this is the only trace
left of the ensign's motive for revenge in Cinthio's novel.
That Shakspere departed so widely from his original
proves that he meant Iago to be actuated by nothing but
sheer diablerie. — Boas, Shakspere and his Predecessors.

Some allege that Iago is too villainous to be a natural

character, but those allegers are simpleton judges of hu-
man nature: Fletcher of Saltoun has said that there is
many a brave soldier who never wore a sword in like man-
;

ner, there is many an Iago in the world who never com-

mitted murder. Iago's "learned spirit" and exquisite in-
tellect, happily ending in his own destruction, were as
requisite for the moral of the piece as for the sustaining
of Othello's high character; for we should have despised
the Moor if he had been deceived by a less consummate
villain than "honest Iago." The latter is a true char-
acter, and the philosophical truth of this tragedy makes
it terrible to peruse, in spite of its beautiful poetry.
lvi
 —

THE MOOR Comments

Why has Aristotle said that tragedy purines the passions?

for our last wish and hope in reading Othello is that the
villain Iago may be well tortured. Campbell, Remarks
on the Life and Writings of Shakespeare.

But Iago Aye there's the rub. Well may poor Othello
! !

look down to his feet, and not seeing them different from
those of others, feel convinced that it is a fable which
attributes a cloven hoof to the devil. Nor is it wonderful
that the parting instruction of Lodovico to Cassio [sic]
should be to enforce the most cunning cruelty of torture
on the hellish villain, or that all the party should vie with
each other in heaping upon him words of contumely and
execration. His determination to keep silence when ques-
tioned, was at least judicious; for with his utmost ingen-
uity he could hardly find anything to say for himself. Is
there nothing, then, to be said for him by anybody else?
No more than this. He is the sole exemplar of studied
personal revenge in the plays. The philosophical mind
of Hamlet ponders too deeply, and sees both sides of
the question too clearly, to be able to carry any plan of
vengeance into execution. Romeo's revenge on Tybalt for
the death of Mercutio is a sudden gust of ungovernable
rage. The vengeance in the Historical Plays are those
of war or statecraft. In Shylock, the passion is hardly
personal against his intended victim. A swaggering
Christian is at the mercy of a despised and insulted Jew.
The hatred is national and sectarian. Had Bassanio or
Gratiano, or any other of their creed, been in his power,
he would have been equally relentless. He is only re-
torting the wrongs and insults of his tribe in demanding
full satisfaction, and imitating the hated Christians in
their own practices. It is, on the whole, a passion re-
markably seldom exhibited in Shakespeare in any form.
Iago, as I have said, is its only example as directed N
against an individual. Iago had been affronted in the
tenderest point. He felt that he had strong claims on
the office of lieutenant to Othello. The greatest exertion
Ivii
 — — —

Comments OTHELLO
was made to procure it for him, and yet he was refused.

What is worse, the grounds of the refusal are mili-

still

tary ; Othello assigns to the civilians reasons for passing

over lago, drawn from his own trade, of which they, of
course, could not pretend to be adequate judges. And
worst of all, when this practised military man is for mili-
tary reasons set aside, who is appointed? Some man of
greater renown and skill in arms? That might be borne;
but it is no such thing. Maginn, Shakespeare Papers.
:

EMILIA
A few words on the character of Emilia: when we
change meter to rhythm, we vary the stress on our syl-
lables but a stronger accent in one part of our line im-
;

plies a weaker accent in another part it may even happen ;

that to produce our fullest music we allow the whole ac-

centual stress of the line to fall on one syllable; this,
as we saw in our review of "Julius Caesar," is Shake-
speare's method in dealing with his characters one is ;

heightened if another is lowered and it may turn out that;

the method gives us a sense of unfairness; I have some

such feeling when I approach the character of Emilia; I
refer especially to the conversation between Emilia and
her mistress (IV, iii, 60—106). Emilia had summed up
her views of the subject by a line "The ills we do, their —
ills instruct us so" which Desdemona rightly condemns
;

and with the line all the foregoing remarks of Emilia. It

is well to gaze upon one entire and perfect chrysolite, but

ill for the foil thereof, when the foil is another woman

the woman, moreover, who would right the wrong though

she lost twenty lives —
who did lose her life through her
devotion, and whose last words were of faithful love —
"O, lay me by my mistress' side. Luce, Handbook to
Shakespeare 's Works.

From the moment when Emilia learns Othello's deed

from his own lips, the poet disburdens us in a wondeiful
lviii
 —
THE MOOR Comments

manner of all the tormenting feelings which the course of

the catastrophe had awakened in us. Emilia is a woman
of coarser texture, good-natured like her sex, but with more
spite than others of her sex, light-minded in things which
appear to her light, serious and energetic when great de-
mands meet her; in words she is careless of her reputation
and virtue, which she would not be in action. At her hus-
band's wish she has heedlessly taken away Desdemona's
handkerchief, as she fancied for some indifferent object.
Thoughtless and light, she had cared neither for return
nor for explanation, even when she learned that this hand-
kerchief, the importance of which she knows, had caused
the quarrel between Othello and Desdemona in womanly;

fashion she observes less attentively all that is going on

around her, and thus, in similar but worse unwariness than
Desdemona, she becomes the real instrument of the un-
happy fate of her mistress. Yet when she knows that
Othello has killed his wife, she unburdens our repressed
feelings by her words, testifying to Desdemona's innocence
by loud accusations of the Moor. When she hears Iago
named as the calumniator of her fidelity, she testifies to the
purity of her mistress by unsparing invectives against the
wickedness of her husband, and seeks to enlighten the
slowly apprehending Moor, whilst she continues to draw
out the feelings of our soul and to give them full expression
from her own full heart. At last, when she entirely per-
ceives Iago's guilt in the matter of the handkerchief, and
therefore her own participation inher devoted fidelity
it,

to her mistress and her increasing feelingrise to sublim-

ity; her testimony against her husband, in the face of
threatening death, now becomes a counterpart to Othello's
severe exercise of justice, and her death and dying song
upon Desdemona's chastity is an expiatory repentance at
her grave, which is scarcely surpassed by the Moor's grand
and calm retaliation upon himself. The unravelment and
expiation in this last scene are wont to reawaken repose
and satisfaction even in the most deeply agitated reader.
Gervtnus, Shakespeare Commentaries.
Ijx
 —

Comments OTHELLO
RODERIGO
Roderigo is a florid specimen of one of Shakespeare's
simpleton lovers. He has placed his whole fortune at the
disposal of Iago, to use for the purpose of winning favor
for him with Desdemona, not having the courage and abil-
ity to woo for himself ; or rather, having an instinctive
knowledge of his own incompetence, with so profound and
devout a respect for the talent of his adviser, as to leave
the whole management of the diplomacy in his hands.
Although Roderigo is a compound of vacillation and
weakness, even to imbecility; although he suddenly forms
resolutions, and as suddenly quenches them at the rallying
contempt and jeering of Iago; and even, although being
entangled in the wily villain's net, he is gradually led on to
act unconsonantly with his real nature ; yet withal,
Roderigo has so much of redemption in him, that we com-
miserate his weakness, and wish him a better fate; for he
is not wholly destitute of natural kindness: he really is ;n

love with Desdemona, and was so before her marriage.

Iago has had his purse, "as though the strings were his
own," to woo her for him ; and yet we find, with all Ro-
derigo's subserviency to the superior intellect, that the
very first words of the play announce his misgiving that
his insidious friend has played him false, since he knew
of the projected elopement of Desdemona with Othello, and
did not apprise him of it. With this first falsehood pal-
pable to him, he again yields to the counsel of Iago, who
schools him into impatience with the promise that he shall
yet obtain his prize. Clarke, Shakespeare-Characters.

THE SOURCE OF THE PATHOS

—
The source of the pathos throughout of that pathos
which at once softens and deepens the tragic effect lies—
in the character of Desdemona. No woman differently
constituted could have excited the same intense and pain-
ful compassion, without losing something of that exalted
lx
 —

THE MOOR Comments

charm, which invests her from beginning to end, which we

are apt to impute to the interest of the situation, and to
the poetical coloring, but which lies, in fact, in the very
essence of the character. Desdemona, with all her timid
flexibility and soft acquiescence, is not weak for the nega-
;

tive alone is weak; and the mere presence of goodness and

affection implies in itself a species of power; power with-
out consciousness, power without effort, power with repose
—that soul of grace !
Jameson, Shakespeare's Heroines,

INTERMARRIAGE OF THE RACES

Great efforts are often made to show that Othello as con-
ceived by Shakespeare was not a Negro and true it is
;

that such an addition as "thick lips," given contemptu-

ously, does not prove it. Othello, however, himself, says
that he is black and I have been convinced that Shake-
;

speare had in his mind the proper negro complexion and

physiognomy too, and that he even assigned some mental
characteristics of the negro type. To these I think be-
long an over-affection for high sounding words, for the
sake of the sound, an affectation of stateliness that verges
upon stiffness, and value for conspicuous position with
—
somewhat excessive feeling for parade for the pride and
pomp of circumstance, the report of the artillery and the
waving of the ensign. There are other coincidences be-
sides these, and I cannot divest myself of the sense that
Othello embodies the ennobled characteristics of the col-
ored division of the human family; and in his position rela-
tively to the proudest aristocracy of Europe, his story
exemplifies the difficulty the world has yet to solve between
the white and the black. The feuds and antipathies of
race can be fully conciliated at no other altar than the
nuptial bed; and the marriage of Desdemona, and its con-
sequences, typify the obstacles to this conclusion. Some
critics moralize the fate of Desdemona as punishment for
undutiful and ill-assorted marriage, yet the punishment
falls quite as severely on the severity of Brabantio— on his
lxi
 —— —
Comments OTHELLO
cruelty, we may say, for he is the first and out of un- —
natural pique, to belie his own daughter's chastity
"Look to her, Moor —have a quick eye to see";

and we must needs make out a scrupulous law of retribu-

if
tion, we shall come at last to an incongruity, and that can
in no sense be pious. The revolt of Desdemona was a re-
volt against custom and tradition, but it was in favor of
the affections of the heart and if the result was pitiable,
;

it may have been not because custom and tradition were

right, but because they were strong, and because there

was the greater reason for abating their strength by prov-
ing it assailable; the justest war does not demand the few-
est victims and the heroes who are left on the field were
;

no whit less right, but only less fortunate, than their

comrades who survive to carry home the laurels. For the
matter in hand, however, it is most certain that the most
important advance that has yet been, made towards estab-
lishing even common cordiality between the races has been
due as in the case of Desdemona and the redeemed slave,
Othello, if not to the love at least to the compassionate
sympathy of woman. Lloyd, Critical Essays.

THE FAULT OF THE PLAY

The fault of the play lies in the fact that Othello has no
moral right to conviction. Yet he has more right than
Claudio (in Much Ado), far more than Posthumus, and
a fortiori more than the hardly sane Leontes. A little
closer questioning of Emilia, however, would have brought
oui the truth and this fact concerns Iago's conduct as
;

well as Othello's. Seccombe and Aeeen, The Age of

Shakespeare.

BEAUTIES OF THE PLAY

The beauties of this play impress themselves so strongly
upon the attention of the reader, that they can draw no
lxii
 —

THE MOOR Comments

aid from critical illustration. The fiery openness of

Othello, magnanimous, artless, and credulous, boundless in
his confidence,ardent in his affection, inflexible in his reso-
lution, in his revenge; the cool malignity of
and obdurate
Iago, silent in his resentment, subtle in his design, and
studious at once of his interest and his vengeance the soft ;

simplicity of Desdemona, confident of merit, and conscious

of innocence, her artless perseverance in her suit, and her
slowness to suspect that she can be suspected, are such
proofs of Shakespeare's skill in human nature as, I sup-
pose, it is in vain to seek in any modern writer. The
gradual progress which Iago makes in the Moor's convic-
tion, and the circumstances which he employs to enflame
him, are so artfully natural, that, though it will perhaps
not be said of him [Othello] as he says of himself, that he
is "a man not easily jealous," yet we cannot but pity him,

when at last we find him "perplexed in the extreme."

Johnson.

THE FASCINATION OF THE PLAY

The noblest earthly object of the contemplation of man
is man himself. The universe, and all its fair and glorious
forms, are indeed included in the wide empire of imagina-
tion ; but she has placed her home and her sanctuary
amidst the inexhaustible A^arieties and the impenetrable mys-
teries of the mind. Othello is, perhaps, the greatest work
in the world. From what does it derive its power? From
the clouds? From the ocean? From the mountains? Or
from love strong as death, and jealousy cruel as the grave?
— Macaulay, Essay on Dante.

PUNISHMENT
In every character of every play of Shakespeare's the
punishment is in proportion to the wrong-doing. How
mild is the punishment of Desdemona, of Cordelia for a
slight wrong; how fearful that of Macbeth, every mo- —
Ixiii
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Comments OTHELLO THE MOOR

merit from the commission of his crime to his death, he
suffers more than all the suffering of these two women.
His deliberate crime belongs to the cold passions as the
;

deed is done with forethought and in cold blood, so it is

avenged by the long-continued tortures of conscience.
Ludwig, Shakespeare-Studien.

ixiv
THE TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO.
THE MOOR OF VENICE
 DRAMATIS PERSONS
Duke of Venice
Braijantio, a senator
'
Other Senators
Gratiano, brother to Brabantio
Lodovico, kinsman to Brabantio
Othello, a noble Moor in the service of the Venetian state
Cassio, his lieutenant
Iago, his ancient
Roderigo, a Venetian gentleman
Montano, Othello's predecessor in the government of Cyprus
Clown, servant to Othello

Desdemona, daughter to Brabantio and wife to Othello

Emilia, wife to Iago
Bianca, mistress to Cassio

Sailor, Messenger, Herald, Officers, Gentlemen, Musicians, and

Attendants

(Scene: Venice: a seaport in Cyprus

2
 SYNOPSIS
By J. Ellis Burdick

ACT I

Othello, a Moorish general of noble woos and wins

birth,
Desdemona, daughter to Brabantio, Venetian senator.
a
Her father, learning of their secret marriage, is very an-
gry and accuses him before the Duke of stealing his daugh-
ter by means of "spells and medicines bought of mounte-
^barika2L Desdemona herself declares in the council cham-
ber her love for the Moor and receives her father's for-
giveness. The Duke and the senators then take up state
matters. These are very pressing, for word has come that
the Turks are making "a most mighty preparation" to take
the Island of Cyprus from the Venetians. Othello, as the
most able general in Venice, is sent to oppose them. His
wife accompanies him. By promoting Cassio to be his
lieutenant Othello incurs the secret enmity of Iago, his
ancient or ensign. The latter also believes his general has
had improper relations with his wife Emilia.

ACT II

A storm wrecks the Turkish fleet before it reaches Cy-

prus. Othello issues a proclamation for general rejoicing
because of their deliverance from the Turks and in honor
of his marriage. Cassio is placed in charge, with instruc-
tions to keep the fun within bounds. Iago plies him with
wine until he is drunk and involves him in a street fight.
Othello hears the noise, and,coming to the scene, reduces
Cassio to the ranks. The latter is sobered by this disgrace
and is anxious to be restored to his rank again. He is
3 \
Synopsis OTHELLO
advised by Iago to sue for a renewal of favor through
Desdemona, whose influence with her husband must be
greater than that of anyone else.

ACT III

Iago aids Cassio to obtain the desired interview with

Desdemona and then entices Othello to the scene. Then
he begins to hint that Cassio's suit with the lady is not the
honorable one that it really is. Othello's jealousy is
aroused and Iago improves every opportunity to add to it.
By means of his wife he obtains a handkerchief which
Othello had given Desdemona in the early days of their
courtship and causes it to be found in Cassio's possession.

ACT IV

Othello determines that his wife and Cassio must die.

To Iago is given the task of killing Cassio and he, glad of

the opportunity to thus rid himself forever of his rival,

sets on one of his creatures to kill the former lieutenant.

act v
Cassio wounds his assassin, but is wounded himself both
by him and by Iago. The latter, fearful that his hireling
will inform on him, stabs him to death. The same night
Othello goes to his wife's bed-chamber and smothers her
to death. Iago's wife Emilia convinces Othello that he
has murdered an innocent and faithful wife, and as a re-
ward for her telling of the truth, she is killed by her
husband. Iago is wounded by Othello, who then kills him-
self. Cassio succeeds to the governorship of Cyprus, and
Iago is kept a prisoner that he may be tortured.

4
 —

THE TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO,

THE MOOR OF VENICE
ACT FIRST
Scene I

Venice. A street.

Enter Roderigo and Iago.

Rod. Tush, never tell me I take it much unkindly
;

That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse

As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of
this.
Iago. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me:
If ever I did dream of such a matter,
Abhor me.
Rod. Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy
hate.
Iago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones
of the city,
3. "know of this"; that is, the intended elopement. Roderigo has
been suing for Desdemona's hand, employing Iago to aid him in
his suit, and paying his service in advance. Of course the play
opens pat upon her elopement with the Moor, and Roderigo pre-
—
sumes Iago to have been in the secret of their intention. The words,
Tush in this speech, and 'Sblood in the next, are not in the folio.
H. N. H.
8. "Despise me if I do not"; admirable is the preparation, so
5
 —
:

Act I. Sc. i. OTHELLO

In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, ,
9

OfF-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man,

I know my price, I am worth no worse a place
But he, as loving his own
pride and purposes,
Evades them, with a bombast circumstance
Horribly stufFd with epithets of war;
And, in conclusion,
Nonsuits my mediators; for, 'Certes,' says he,
'I have already chose my officer.'
And what was he?
Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, 20
A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;
truly and peculiarly Shakespearean, in the introduction of Roderigo,
as the dupe on whom Iago shall first exercise his art, and in so
doing display his own character. Roderigo, without any fixed prin-
ciple, but not without the moral notions and sympathies with honor
which his rank and connections had hung upon him, is already
well fitted and predisposed for the purpose; for very want of char-
acter, and strength of passion, like wind loudest in an empty house,
constitute his character. The first three lines happily state the
nature and foundation of the friendship between him and Iago,
—
the purse, as also the contrast of Roderigo's intemperance of mind
—
with Iago's coolness, the coolness of a preconceiving experimenter.
—
The mere language of protestation, "If ever I did dream of such
—
a matter, abhor me," which, falling in with the associative link,
—
determines Roderigo's continuation of complaint, "Thou told'st me
—
thou didst hold him in thy hate," elicits at length a true feeling
of Iago's mind, the dread of contempt habitual to those who en-
courage in themselves, and have their keenest pleasure in, the ex-
pression of contempt for others. Observe Iago's high self-opinion,
and the moral, that a wicked man will employ real feelings, as
well as assume those most alien from his own, as instruments of
his purposes (Coleridge). —
H. N. H.
15. Omitted in Ff. and Qq. 2, 3.— I. G.
21. "A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife"; if this alludes to
Bianca, the phrase may possibly mean "very near being married to
a most fair wife." Some explain, "A fellow whose ignorance of
war would be condemned in a fair woman." The emendations pro-
—
posed are unsatisfactory, and probably unnecessary. I. G.
6
THE MOOR Act I. Sc. i

That never set a squadron in the field,

Nor the division of a battle knows

More than a spinster unless the bookish theoric,
;

Wherein the toged consuls can propose

As masterly as he: mere prattle without prac-
tice
Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the elec-
tion:
And of whom his eyes had seen the proof
I,
At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds
Christian and heathen, must be be-lee'd and
calm'd 30
By and creditor this counter-caster,
debitor :

He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,

—
And I God bless the mark! his Moorship's —
ancient.
Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been his
hangman.
lago. Why, there 's no remedy ; 'tis the curse of
service,
Preferment goes by letter and affection,
And not by old gradation, where each second
The passage has caused a great deal of controversy. Tyrwhitt
would read "fair and Coleridge thinks this reading "the true
life,"
one, as fitting to Iago's contempt for whatever did not display
power, and that, intellectual power." The change, however, seems
inadmissible. Perhaps it is meant as characteristic of lago to re-
—
gard a wife and a mistress as all one. Cassio is sneeringly called "a
great arithmetician" and a "countercaster," in allusion to the pur-
suits for which the Florentines were distinguished. The point is
thus stated by Charles Armitage Browne: "A soldier from Flor-
ence, famous for its bankers throughout Europe, and for its inven-
tion of bills of exchange, book-keeping, and every thing connected
with a counting-house, might well be ridiculed for his promotion, by
—
an lago, in this manner." H. N. H.
 : :

Act L Sc.
-*
i. OTHELLO
Stoocflieir to the first. Xow, sir, be judge your-
self
Whether I in any just term am affined
To love the Moor.
Rod. I would not follow him then. -±0

Iago. O. sir. content you;

I follow him to serve my turn upon him
We
cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly followed. You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That doting on his own obsequious bondage
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
For nought but provender, and when he 's old,
ca shier' d
1
Whip me such honest knaves. Others there
are
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty. 50
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves.
And throwing but shows of service on their
lords
Do well thrive by them, and when they have
lined their coats
Do themselves homage: these fellows have some
soul,
And such a one do I profess myself.
For, sir,

It is as sure as you are Roderigo,

Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end: 60

50. "Visages" ; outward semblances. —C. H. H.

8
THE MOOR Act I. Sc. i

For when my outward action doth demonstrate

The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at I am not what I am.
:

Bod. What a full fortune does the thick lips owe,

If he can carry 't thus!
Iago. Call up her father,
Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight,
Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kins-
men,
And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, 70
Plague him with flies: though that his joy be

Yet throw such changes of vexation on 't

As it may lose some color.

Bod. Here her father's house; I '11 call aloud.
is

Iago. Do with like timorous accent and dire yell

;

As when, by night and negligence, the fire

Is spied in populous cities.
Rod. What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio,
ho!
Iago. Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves!
thieves! thieves!
Look to your house, your daughter and your
bags! 80
Thieves! thieves!

Brabantio appears above, at a window.

72. "changes"; Ff. read "chances" I. G.—
76. "by night and negligence"; that is, in the time of night and
negligence; a very common form of expression.— H. N. PI.

9
 ; ; :

Act I. Sc. i. OTHELLO

Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons?
What is the matter there ?
Rod. Signior, is all your family within?
lago. Are your doors lock'd?
Bra. Why, wherefore ask you this?
lago. 'Zounds, sir, you 're robb'd for shame, put ;

on your gown;
Your heart is burst, you have lost half your
soul;
Even now, now, very now, an old black ram
Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise
Awake the snorting citizens with the bell, 90
Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you
Arise, I say.
Bra. What, have you your wits?
lost
Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my
voice ?
Bra. Not I : what are you?
Rod. My name is Roderigo.
Bra. The worser welcome:
I have charged thee not to haunt about my
doors
In honest plainness thou hast heard me say
My
daughter is not for thee; and now, in mad-
ness,
Being full of supper and distempering
draughts,
Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come 10°
To start my quiet.

87. "Burst" in the next line, is used in the sense of broken. The
usage was common. H. N. H. —
100. "Upon"; out of.—C. H. H.

10
 ; — ;

THE MOOR Act I. Sc. i

Rod* Sir, sir, sir,

Bra. But thou must needs be sure
My spirit and my place have in them power
To make this bitter to thee.
Rod. Patience, good sir.

Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is

Venice
My house is not a grange.
Rod. Most grave Brabantio,
In simple and pure soul I come to you.
lago. 'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that
will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Be-
cause we come to do you service and you HO
think we are ruffians, you '11 have your
daughter covered with a Barbary horse;
you '11 have your nephews neigh to you
you '11 have coursers for cousins, and gen-
nets for germans.
Bra. What profane wretch art thou ?
lago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your
daughter and the Moor are now making the
beast with two backs.
Bra. Thou art a villain.
lago. You are a senator. — 120
Bra. This thou shalt answer; I know thee,
Roderigo.
Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I be-
seech you,
If 't be your pleasure and most wise consent,
107. "In simple and pure soul"; with honest intent. —
C. H. H.
112. —
"Nephews" here means grandchildren. H. N. H.
114, —
A "gennet" is a Spanish or Barbary horse. H. N. H.
11
 : : ! — ;
:
!

Act I. Sc. OTHELLO

As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter,
At odd-even and dull watch o' the night,
this
Transported with no worse nor better guard
But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,
To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor,
If this be known to you, and your allowance,
We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs
But if you know not this, my manners tell
me 131
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe
That, from the sense of all civility,
I thus would play and trifle with your reverence
Your daughter, if you have not given her leave,
I say again, hath made a gross revolt,
Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes,
In an extravagant and wheeling stranger
Of here and every where. Straight satisfy
yourself
If she be in her chamber or your house, 140
Let loose on me the justice of the state
For thus deluding you.
Bra. Strike on the tinder, ho
Give me a taper call up all my people
!

This accident is not unlike my dream

126. "a knave of common hire, a gondolier" ; a writer in the
Pictorial Shakespeare tells us, "that the gondoliers are the only con-
veyers of persons, and of a large proportion of property, in Venice;
that they are thus cognizant of all intrigues, and the fittest agents
in them, and are under perpetual and strong temptation to make
profit of the secrets of society. Brabantio might well be in horror
at his daughter having, in 'the dull watch o' the night, no worse nor
better guard.'"— H. N. H.
"from the sense of all civility"; that is, departing from the
132.
—
sense of all civility. H. N. H.
144. "rot unlike my dream"; the careful old senator, being caught
12
THE MOOR Act I. Sc. i.

Belief of it oppresses me already.

Light, I say! light! [Exit above.
Iago. Farewell; for I must leave you:
It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
*

To be produced —
I stay, I shall
as, if — *

Against the Moor: for I do know, the state, 149

However this may gall him with some check,
Cannot with safety cast him; for he 's embark'd
With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,
Which even now stand in act, that, for their
souls,
Another of his fathom they have none
To lead their business : in which regard,
Though I do hate him as I do hell pains,
Yet for necessity of present life,
I must show out a flag and sign of love,
Which is indeed but sign. That you shall
surely find him,
Lead to the Sagittary the raised search; 160
And there will I be with him. So farewell.
[Exit
Enter, below, Brabantio, in his night-gown, and
Servants with torches.
Bra. It is too true an evil: gone she is;
And what 's to come of my despised time
Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo,
Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl!
With the Moor, say'st thou? Who would be a
father!
careless^ transfers his caution to his dreaming power at least (Cole-
ridge).— H. N. H.
13
 ! ! ;

Act I. Sc. i. OTHELLO

How didst thou know 'twas she? O, she de-
ceives me
Past thought! What said she to you? Get
more tapers.
Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think
you?
Rod. Truly, I think they are. 1™
Bra. heaven! How got she out? O treason of
O
the blood
Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters'
minds
By what you see them act. Is there not charms
By which the property of youth and maidhood
May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo,
Of some such thing?
Rod. Yes, sir, I have indeed.
Bra. Call up my brother. O, would you had had
her!
Some one way, some another. Do you know
Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?
Rod. I think I can discover him, if you please 180
To get good guard and go along with me.
Bra. Pray you, lead on. At
every house I '11 call
I may command at most. Get weapons, ho
And raise some special officers of night.'
On, good Roderigo; I '11 deserve your pains.
[Exeunt,
174. —
"property" ; (virtue) proper to. C. H. H.
183. "J may command at most"; that is, "I may command at most
Of the houses."— H. N. H.

14
THE MOOR Act I. Sc. ii.

Scene II

Another street.

Enter Othello, lago, and Attendants with torches.

lago. Though in the trade of war I have slain men, /

Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience
To do no contrived murder I lack iniquity
:

Sometimes to do me service: nine^or ten times

I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the
ribs. Rfe<d<?r^©
Oth. 'Tis better as it is.
Iago. Nay, but he prated 7
And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
Against your honor,
That, with the little godliness I have^ .

I did full hard forbear him. But I pray you,

^
sir, 10
Are you fast married? Be assured of this,
That the magnifico is much beloved,
And
hath in his effect a voice potential
As
double as the duke's he will divorce you,
:

Or
put upon you what restraint and grievance
The law, with all his might to enforce it on,
Will give him cable.
Oth. Let him do his spite:
My
services, which I have done the signiory,
Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to
know — 19
8. "against your honor"; of course lago is speaking of Roderigo,
and pretending to relate what he has done and said against Othello.
— H. N. H.
15
Act I. Sc. ii. OTHELLO
Which, when I know that boasting is an honor,
I shall promulgate— I fetch my life and being
From men of royal siege, and my demerits
May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune
As this that I have reach'd for know, Iago, :

But that I love the gentle Desdemona,

I would not my unhoused free condition
Put into circumscription and confine
For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights
come yond?
Iago, Those are the raised father and his friends:
You were best go in.
Oth. Not I; I must be found: 30
My parts, my title and my perfect soul,
Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?
Iago. By Janus, I think no.

Enter Cassio, and certain Officers with torches.

Oth. The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant.

The goodness of the night upon you, friends!
What is the news ?
Cas. The duke
does greet you, general
And he requires your haste-post-haste appear-
ance,
Even on the instant.
Oth. What is the matter, think you?
Cas. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine:
It is a business of some heat: the galleys 40
Have sent a dozen sequent messengers

28. "sea's worth"; Pliny, the naturalist, has a chapter on the riches
of the sea. The expression seems to have been proverbial. H. N. H. —
31. "perfect soul"; flawless honor— C. H. H.
16
 ;

THE MOOR Act I. Sc. ii.

This yery night at one another's heels

And many of the consuls, raised and met,
Are at the duke's already: you have been/hotly
call'd for;
' When, being not at your lodging to be found,
The senate hath sent about three several quests
To search you out.
Oth. am found by you.
'Tis well I
I will but spend a word here in the house,
And go with you. [Exit.
Cas. Ancient, what makes he here?
Iago. Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land ca-
rack : 50
If it prove lawful prize, he 's made for ever.
Cas. I do not understand.
Iago. He's married.
Cas. To who?
Re-enter Othello.

—
Iago. Marry, to Come, captain, will you go?
Oth. Have with you
Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for you.
Iago. It is Brabantio: general, be advised;
He comes to bad intent.
Enter Brabantio, Roderigo, and Officers with
torches and weapons.

Oth. Holla! stand there!

Rod. Signior, it is the Moor.
Bra. Down with him, thief!
[They draw on both sides.
Iago. You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you.
xxv— 2 17
Act I. Sc. ii. OTHELLO
Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will
rust them.
Good signior, you shall more command with
years 60
Than with your weapons.
Bra. O
thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my
daughter?
Damn'd as thou thou hast enchanted her;
art,
For I '11 refer me to
things of sense,
all
If she in chains of magic were not bound,
Whether a maid so tender, fair and happy,
So opposite to marriage that she shunn'd
The wealthy curled darlings of our nation,
Would ever have, to incur a general mock,
Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom 70
Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight.
Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense
That thou hast practised on her with foul
charms,
Abused her delicate youth with drugs or min-
erals

59. "the dew will rust them"; if we mistake not, there is a sort of
playful, good-humored irony expressed in the very rhythm of this
line. Throughout this scene, Othello appears at all points "the noble
nature, whose solid virtue the shot of accident, nor dart of chance,
could neither graze, nor pierce": his calmness and intrepidity of soul,
his heroic modesty, his manly frankness and considerative firmness
of disposition are all displayed at great advantage, marking his
character as one made up of the most solid and gentle qualities.
Though he has nowise wronged Brabantio, he knows that he seems
to have done so: his feelings therefore take the old man's part,
and he respects his age and sorrow too much to resent his violence;
hears his charges with a kind of reverential defiance, and answers
them as knowing them false, yet sensible of their reasonableness,
and honoring him the more for making them. H. N. H. —
72-77; iii. 16; 36; 63; 118; 123; 194; omitted Q. 1.— I. G.
18
 : : ;;

THE MOOR Act I. Sc. ii.

That weaken motion I '11 have 't disputed on

:

'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.

I therefore apprehend and do attach thee ^
For an abuser of the world, a practicer
Of arts inhibited and out of warrant.
Lay hold upon him: if he do resist, 80
Subdue him at his peril.
Oth. Hold your hands,
Both you of my inclining and the rest
Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it

Without a prompter. Where will you that I

go
To answer this your charge ?
Bra. To prison, till fit time
Of law and course of direct session
Call thee to answer.
Oth. What if I do obey?
How may the duke be therewith satisfied,
Whose messengers are here about my side,
Upon some present business of the state 90
To bring me to him?
First Off. 'Tis true, most worthy signior
The duke 's in council, and your noble self,
I am sure, ^s sent for.
Bra. How! the duke in council!
In this time of the night Bring him away
!

Mine 's not an idle cause the duke himself,

:

Or any of my brothers of the state,

Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own;
75. "weaken motion"; Rowe's emendation; Ff. and Qq. 2, 3, "weak-
ens motion" ; Pope (Ed. 2, Theobald) "weaken notion"; Hammer,
"waken motion"; Keightley, "wakens motion"; Anon. conj. in Fur-
ness, "wake emotion" &c. —
I. G.

19
 — ;

Act I. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

For if such actions may have passage free,
Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be.
[Exeunt.

Scene III

A council-chamber.

The Duke and Senators sitting at a table; Officers

attending.

Duke. There is no composition in these news

That gives them credit.
First Sen. Indeed they are disproportion'^
My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.
Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty.
Sec. Sen. And mine, two hundred:
But though they jump not on a just account,
As in these cases, where the aim reports,
'Tis oft with difference, —yet do they confirm
all
A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.
Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judgment:
I do not so secure me in the error, 10
But the main article I do approve
In fearful sense.
Sailor. [Within] What, ho! what, ho! what, ho!
First Off. A
messenger from the galleys.
99. "bond-slavesand 'pagans" ; this passage has been misunder-
stood. Pagan was a word of contempt; and the reason will appear
from its etymology: "Paganus, villanus vel incultus. Et derivatur
a pagus, quod est villa. Et quicunque habitat in villa est paganus.
Prseterea quicunque est extra civitatem Dei, i. e., ecclesiam, dicitur
paganus. —
Anglice, a paynim" Ortus Vocabulorum, 1528. H. N. H. —
11. "the main article I do approve"; I admit the substantial truth
of the report.—C. H. H.
20
THE MOOR Act I. Sc. iii.

Enter Sailor.

Duke. Now, what 's the business ?

Sail. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes;
So was I bid report here to the state
By Signior Angelo.
Duke. How say you by this change?
First Sen. This cannot be,
By no assay of reason: 'tis a pageant
To J^eep us in false gaze. When we consider
The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk, 20
And let ourselves again but understand
That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
So may he with more facile question bear it,
For that it stands not in such warlike brace,
But altogether lacks the abilities
That Rhodes is dress'd in: if we make thought
of this,
We must not think the Turk is so unskillful
To leave that latest which concerns him first,

Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain,

To wake and wage a danger profitless. 30
Duke. Nay, inlall confidence, he 's not for Rhodes.
First Off. Here is more news.

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. The Ottomites, reversed and gracious,
Steering with due course toward the isle of
•
Rhodes
Have there in jointed them with an after fleet.
First Sen. Aye, so I thought. How many, as you
guess ?
21
Act I. Sc. iii. OTHELLO
Mess, Of thirty sail: and now they do re-stem
Their backward course, bearing with frank ap-
pearance
Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Mon-
tano,
Your trusty and most valiant servitor, 40
With his free duty recommends you thus,
And prays you to believe him.
Duke. 'Tis certain then for Cyprus.
Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town?
First Sen. He 's now in Florence.
Duke. Write from us to him; post-post-haste dis-
patch.
First Sen. Here comes Brabantio and the valiant
Moor.
Enter Brabantio, Othello, lago, Roderigo, and
Officers.

Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ

you
Against the general enemy Ottoman.
[To
Brabantio'] I did not see you; welcome,
gentle signior; 50
We
lack'd your counsel and your help to-night.
Bra. So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon
me;
Neither my
place nor aught I heard of business
Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the gen-
eral care
Take hold on me; for my particular grief
Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,
22
THE MOOR Act. I. Sc. iii.

And it is still itself.

Duke. Why, what 's the matter?

Bra. My daughter! O, my daughter!
All.
*
Dead?
Bra. Aye, to me;
She isabused, stol'n from me and corrupted 60
By spells and medicines bought of mounte-
banks ;

For nature so preposterously to err,

Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,
Sans witchcraft could not.
Duke. Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding
Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself
And you of her, the bloody book of law
You shall yourself read in the bitter letter
After your own sense, yea, though our proper
son
Stood in your action.
Bra. Humbly I thank your grace. 70
"Here is the man, this Moor; whom now, it
seems,
Your special mandate for the state-affairs
Hath hither brought.
All. We are very sorry for 't.

Duke. [To Othello] What in your own part can

you say to this?
Bra. Nothing, but this is so.
Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My
very noble and approved good masters,
67. "bloody book of laic"; "By the Venetian law the giving of
love-potionswas highly criminal" (Clarke).— I. G.
70. "Stood in your action"; were the object of your accusation.—
C. H. H.
23
 ———
:

Act I. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

That I have ta'en away
man's daughter,
this old
^ It is most true true, I have married her
;

The very head and front of my offending 80

Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my
speech,
And little blest with the soft phrase of peace;
For since these arms of mine had seven years'
pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have
used
Their dearest action in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause
In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious
patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver 90
Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what
charms,
What conjuration and what mighty magic
For such proceeding I am charged withal
I won his daughter.
Bra. A
maiden never bold;
Of spirit so still and quiet that her motion
Blush'd at herself and she in spite of nature,
; —
Of years, of country, credit, every thing
To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on!
It is a judgment maim'd and most imperfect,
That will confess perfection so could err 100
Against all rules of nature and must be driven ;

87. "feats of broil"; Capell's emendation; Q. 1, "feate of broile";

F. 1, "Feats of Broiles," &e. — I.G.
24
THE MOOR Act. I. Sc. iii.

To find out practices of cunning hell,

Why should be. I therefore vouch again,

this
That with some mixtures powerful o'er the
blood,
Or with some dram conjured to this effect,
He wrought upon her.
Duke. To vouch this, is no proof
Without more certain and more overt test
Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods
Of modern seeming do prefer against him.
First Sen. But, Othello, speak: 110
Did you by indirect and forced courses
Subdue and poison this young maid's aff ections ?
Or came it by request, and such fair question
As soul to soul aff ordeth ?
Oth. I do beseech you,
Send for the lady to the Sagittary,
And let her speak of me before her father:
If you do find me foul in her report,
The trust, the office I do hold of you,
Not only take away, but let your sentence
Even fall upon my life.
Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither, 120
Oth. Ancient, conduct them; you best know the
place. [Exeunt Iago and Attendants.
And till she come, as truly as to heaven
I do confess the vices of my blood,
So justly to your grave ears I '11 present
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love
And she is mine.
107. "Certain"; so Qq.; Ff., "wider."— I. G.

25
 : : ;

Act I. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Duke. Say it, Othello.
Oth. Her
father loved me, oft invited me,
questioned me the story of my life
Still
From year to year, the battles, sieges, for-
tunes, 130
That I have pass'd. % ^ 9 ^
"
I ran it through, even from my boyish days
To the very moment that he bade me tell it
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field,
Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly
breach,
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence,
And portance in my travels' history
Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, 140
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads
touch heaven,
It was my hint to speak, —such was the process
And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear
139. "portance in my"; so Ff. and Q. 2; Q. 3, "portence in my";
Q. 1, "with it my"; Johnson conj. "portance in't; my" &c;
all
"travels"; the reading of Modern Edd. (Globe Ed.); Qq., "trauells";
Pope, "travel's"; F. 1, "Trauellours"; Ff. 2, 3, "Travellers"; F. 4,
"Traveller's"; Richardson conj. "travellous" or "travailous" I. G. —
144. "whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders" ; nothing ex-
cited more universal attention than the account brought by Sir Wal-
ter Raleigh, on his return from his celebrated voyage to Guiana in
1595, of the cannibals, amazons, and especially of the nation, "whose
heads do grow beneath their shoulders." A short extract of the
more wonderful passages was also published in Latin and in several
other languages in 1599, adorned with copper-plates, representing
these cannibals, amazons, and headless people, &e. These extraor-
dinary reports were universally credited; and Othello therefore as-
26
 —

Othello: Still question'd me the story of my life

Act I, Scene 3.
 ; :

THE MOOR Act. I. Sc. iii.

Would Desdemona seriously incline

But still the house-affairs would draw her
thence
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She 'Id come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse which I observing, 150
:

Took once a pliant hour, and found good

means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not intentively: I did consent,
And often did beguile her of her tears
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suff er'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:
She swore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing
strange ; 160
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:
She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
That heaven had made her such a man: she
thank'd me,
sumes no other character but what was very common among the
—
celebrated commanders of the Poet's time. The folio omits Do, and
reads, "These things to hear." —
H. N. H.
—
159. "sighs"; Ff., "kisses"; Southern MS., "thanks." I. G.
160. "she swore"; to aver upon faith or honor was considered
—
swearing. H. N. H.
163. "such a man"; a question has lately been raised whether the
meaning here is, that Desdemona wished such a man had been made
for her, or that she herself had been made such a man; and several
have insisted on the latter, lest the lady's delicacy should be im-
peached. Her delicacy, we hope, stands in need of no such critical
attorneyship. Othello was indeed just such a man as she wanted;
and her letting him understand this, was doubtless part of the hint
—
whereon he spoke. H. N. H.
27
 : : : :

Act i. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint I
spake
j She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,
I And I loved her that she did pity them.
/ This only is the witchcraft I have used.
/ Here comes the lady let her witness
; it. 170

\ Enter Desdemona, lago, and Attendants.

Duke. I think this tale would win my daughter too.
Good Brabantio,
Take up this mangled matter at the best
Men do their broken weapons rather use
Than their bare hands.
Bra. I pray you, hear her speak
If she confess that she was half the wooer,
Destruction on my head, if my bad blame
Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mis-
tress :

Do you perceive in all this noble company

Where most you owe obedience?
Des. noble father, 180 My
I do perceive here a divided duty
To you I am bound for life and education;
My
life and education both do learn me
How to respect you; you are the lord of duty,
I am hitherto your daughter but here 's my :

husband,
And so much duty as my mother show'd
To you, preferring you before her father,
So much I challenge that I may profess
28
 ; : ;

THE MOOR Act. I. Sc. iii.

Due to the Moor my lord.

Bra. God be with you! I have done.
Please it your grace, on to the state-aff airs 190 :

I had rather to adopt a child than get it.

Come hither, Moor
I here do give thee that with all my heart,
Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart
I would keep from thee. For your sake, jewel,
I am glad at soul I have no other child
For thy escape would teach me tyranny,
To hang clogs on them. I have done, my lord.
Duke. Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sen-
tence
Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers
Into your favor. 201
When remedies are past, the griefs are ended
By seeing the worst, which late on hopes de-
pended.
ty
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone
Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
What cannot be preserved when fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mockery makes.
The robb'd that smiles steals something from
the thief
He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.
Bra. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile; 210
We lose it not so long as we can smile.
199. "speak like yourself"; that is, let me speak as yourself would
speak, were you not too much heated with passion. H. N. H. —
202. "When remedies are past"; this is expressed in a common pro-
verbial form in Love Labour's Lost: "Past cure is still past care."
— H. N. H.
. 207. "Patience laughs at the loss."— C. H. H.

29
 ; —

A.ct I. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears
But the free comfort which from thence he
hears
But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow,
That, to pay grief, must of poor patience bor-
row.
These sentences, to sugar or to gall,
Being strong on both sides, are equivocal:
But words are words I never yet did hear ;

That the bruised heart was pierced through the

ear.
I humbly beseech you, proceed to the aff airs of
state. 220
Duke. The Turk with a most mighty prepara-
tion makes for Cyprus. Othello, the forti-
tude of the place is best known to you and ;

though we have there a substitute of most

allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a sovereign
mistress of effects, throws a more safer voice
on you: you must therefore be content to
slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with
this more stubborn and boisterous expedi-
tion. 230
Oth. The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnize
A natural and prompt alacrity
I find in hardness and do undertake ;

These present wars against the Ottomites.

Most humbly therefore bending to your state,
216. "to sugar, or to gall"; (depending on "are equivocal").
C. H. H.

SO
THE MOOR Act I. Sc. iii.

I crave fit disposition for my wife,

Due reference of place and exhibition,
With such accommodation and besort 240
As levels with her breeding.
Duke, If you please,
Be 't at her father's.
Bra. I '11 not have it so.

Oth. Nor I.
Des. Nor I, I would not there reside,
To put my father in impatient thoughts
By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,
To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear,
And let me find a charter in your voice
To assist my simpleness.
Duke. What would you, Desdemona?
Des. That I did love the Moor to live with him, 250
My downright violence and storm of fortunes
May trumpet to the world my heart 's subdued :

Even to the very quality of my lord:

I saw Othello's visage in his mind,
And to his honors and his valiant parts
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,
Amoth of peace, and he go to the war,
The rites for which I love him are bereft me,
And I a heavy interim shall support 260
By his dear absence. Let me go with him. V
Oth. Let her have your voices.
251. "and storm of fortunes"; Q. 1, "and scorne of Fortunes/ &c.
—I. G.
262. "Let her have your voices"; Dyce's correction; Ff., "Let her
have your voice"; Qq. read
"Your voyces Lord; beseech you let her will
Haue a free way"— I. G.
31
 ;

Act I. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not,
To please the palate of my appetite
Nor to comply with heat the young affects —
—
In me defunct and proper satisfaction;
But to be free and bounteous to her mind:
And heaven defend your good souls, that you
think
I will your serious and great business scant
For she is with me. No, when light-wing'd
toys 270
Of feather 'd Cupid seel with wanton dullness
My speculative and officed instruments,
That my disports corrupt and taint my business,
Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,
And all indign and base adversities
Make head against my estimation!
Duke. Be it as you shall privately determine,
Either for her stay or going: the affair cries
haste,
And speed must answer 't ;
you must hence to-
night.
Des. To-night, my lord?
Duke. This night.
Oth. With all my heart. 280
Duke. At nine i' the morning here we '11 meet
again.
Othello, leave some officer behind,

264-265. "the young affects In me

defunct"; Qq., "the young
affects In my defunct"; so F. 1; Ff. 4 ("effects"). The read-
2, 3,
ing of the text is the simplest and most plausible emendation of the
many proposed, the words meaning "the passions of youth which I
have now outlived": "proper satis faction"="my own gratification."
—I. G.

32
 : ; ;

THE MOOR Act i. Sc. iii.

And he shall pur commission bring to you

With such things else of quality and respect
As doth import you.
Oth. So please your grace, my ancient
A man he is of honesty and tru st
To his conveyance I assign my wife,
With what else needful your good grace shall
think
To be sent after me.
Duke. Let it be so.
Good night to every one. [To Brab.~\ And,
noble signior, 290
If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
First Sen. Adieu, brave Moor; use Desdemona
well.
Bra. Look her^Moor^j f thou hasj^eyes to_see;
to q^A-^
She has deceived her father, and may thee. °b
[Exeunt Duke] Senators, 6~fjicers'
} \c.

Oth. My life upon her faith! Honest Iago, *>

My Desdemona must I leave to thee:

I prithee, let thy wife attend on her;
And bring them after in the best advantage.
Come, Desdemona I have but an hour
; 300
Of love, of worldly matters and direction,
To spend with thee we must obey the time.
:
f

[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.

Rod. Iago!
296. "My life upon her faith"; in real life, how do we look back
to little speeches as prcsentimental of, or contrasted with, an affect-
ing event! Even so, Shakespeare, as secure of being read over and
over, of becoming a family friend, provides this passage for his
—
readers, and leaves it to them (Coleridge). H. N. H.
XXV-3 33
 —

Act I. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

lago. What say'st thou, noble heart?
Rod. What will I do, thinkest thou?
lago. Why, go to bed and sleep.
Rod. I will incontinently drown myself.
lago. If thou dost, I shall never love thee after.
Why, thou silly gentleman!
Rod. It is silliness to live when to live is tor- 310
ment and then have we a prescription to die
;

when death is our physician.

lago. O villainous! I have looked upon the
world for four times seven years; and since
I could distinguish betwixt a benefit and an
injury, I never found man that knew how to
love himself. Ere I would say I would
drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen,
I would change my humanity with a baboon.
Hod. What should I do? I confess it is my 320
314. ''four times seven years"; this clearly ascertains the age of
lago to be twenty-eight years; though the general impression of him
is that of a much older man. The Poet, we doubt not, had a wise
purpose in making him so young, as it infers his virulence of mind
to be something innate and spontaneous, and not superinduced by
h«rsh experience of the world. Mr. Verplanck remarks upon it
thiis: "An old soldier of acknowledged merit, who, after years of
service, sees a young man like Cassio placed over his head, has not
a kittle to plead in justification of deep resentment, and in excuse,
though not in defence, of his revenge: such a man may well brood
over imaginary wrongs. The caustic sarcasm and contemptuous
estimate of mankind are at least pardonable in a soured and dis-
appointed veteran. But in a young man the revenge is more purely
gratuitous, the hypocrisy, the knowledge, the dexterous management
of the worst and weakest parts of human nature, the recklessness
—
of moral feeling, even the stern, bitter wit, intellectual and con-
—
temptuous, without any of the gayety of youth, are all precocious
and peculiar; separating lago from the ordinary sympathies of our
nature, and investing him with higher talent and blacker guilt."
H. N. H.

34
 :

THE MOOR Act I. Sc. iii.

shame to be so fond; but it is not in my

virtue to amend it. /
lago. Virtue a fig 'tis in ourselves that we are
! !

thus or thus. Our bodies are gardens; to

the which our wi lls are gardenersj so that if
we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hys-
sop and weed up thyme, supply it with one
gender of herbs or distract it with many,
either to have it sterile with idleness or ma-
nured with industry, why, the power and cor- 330
rigible authority of this lies In our wills.
If the balance of our lives had not one scale
of reason to poise another of sensuality, the
blood and baseness of our natures would
conduct us to most preposterous conclusions
but we have reason to cool our raging
motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted
lusts whereof I take this, that you call love,
;

to be a sect or scion.
Rod. It cannot be. 340
lago. It is merely a lust of the blood and a per-
mission of the will. Come, be a man drown :

thyself! drown cats and blind puppies. I

have professed me thy friend, and I confess
me knit to thy deserving with cables of per-
durable toughness: I could never bette r
stead thee than now. Put money in thy
purse; follow thou the wars; defeat thy
323. "are gardens"; so Qq.; Ff., "are our gardens." —C. H. H.
328. "manured"; tilled.— C. H. H.
332. "balance" ; Ff., "brain" and "braine"; Theobald, "beam." —
I. G.
348. "Defeat'' was used for disfigurement or alteration of features;
from the French de'faire. Favor is countenance. H. N. H. —
8»
 —

A.ct I. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

favor with an usurped beard; I say, put
money in thy purse. It cannot be that Des- 350
demona should long continue her love to the
—
Moor put money in thy purse nor he his —
to her: was a violent commencement, and
it

thou shalt see an answerable sequestration;

put but money in thy purse. These Moors
are changeable in their wills fill thy purse :
—
with money. The food that to him now is
as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly
as bitter as coloquintidaj She must change
for youth: when she is sated with his body, 360
she will find the error of her choice she must :

have change, she must: therefore put money

in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damn thy-
self, do delicate way than drown-
it a more
ing. Make all the money thou canst: if
sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt an err-
ing barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian be
not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of
hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make
money. A
pox of drowning thyself it is 370 !

clean out of the way seek thou rather to be

:

hanged in compassing thy joy than to be

drowned and go without her.
Rod. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I de-
pend on the issue?
lago. Thou art sure of me : go, make money I :

358. "luscious as locusts"; "perhaps so mentioned from being

placed together with wild honey in St. Matthew iii. 4" (Schmidt).
I. G.

362. Omitted in Ff.—I. G.

367. "barbarian"; with a play upon Barbary. C. H. H. —
36
THE MOOR Act L Sc. m.

have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again

and again, I hate the Moor", my cause is
hearted; thine hath no less reason. Let us
be conjunctive in our revenge against him:380
if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost thyself
a pleasure, me a sport. Th ere are many
e vents in the wo mb of time, which will b e
delivered. Traverse; go; provide thy mon-
ey; We~will have more of this to-morrow.
Adieu.
Rod. Where shall we meet i' the morning?
Iago. At my lodging.
Rod. I '11 be with thee betimes. ^
Iago. Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Rode- 390
rigo?
Rod. What say you?
Iago. No more of drowning, do you hear?
Rod. I am changed: I '11 go my land. [Exit,
sell all

Iago. Thus do I ever make my fool my purse;

For I mine own gain'd knowledge should pro-
fane,
384. "Traverse; go"; note Iago's pride of mastery in the repetition,
"Go, make money," to his anticipated dupe, even stronger than his
love of lucre; and, when Roderigo is completely won, when the effect
has been fully produced, the repetition of his triumph: "Go to;
farewell: put money enough in your purse!" The remainder Iago's —
—
soliloquy the motive-hunting of a motiveless malignity how awful —
it is! Yea, whilst he is still allowed to bear the divine image, it
is too fiendish for his own steady view, —
for the lonely gaze of a
being next to devil, and only not quite devil; and yet a character —
which Shakespeare has attempted and executed, without disgust and
without scandal (Coleridge). H. N. H. —
390-394. The reading in the text is that of the second and third
Quartos; Q. 1, adds after the words "I am chang'd": —
w
Ooe to, fareivell, put money enough in your purse";
omitting "I'll go sell all my land." — I. G.
37
 ; — ;

Act I. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

If I would time expend with such a snipe
But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor;
And thought abroad that 'twixt my sheets
it is

He has done my office I know not if 't be true

:

But for mere suspicion in that kind 401

Will do as if for surety. He holds me well;
The better shall my purpose work on him.
Cassio 's a proper man let me see now :

To get his place, and to plume up my will

In double knavery—How, how? Let 's see: —
After some time, to abuse Othello's ear
That he is too familiar with his wife.
He hath a person and a smooth dispose
To be suspected; framed to make women false.
The Moor is of a free and open nature, 411
That thinks men honest that but seem to be so
And will as tenderly be led by the nose
As asses are.
I have 't. It is engender'd. Hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's
light.
[Exit.
402. "as if for surety"; that is, I will act as if I were certain of
the fact. "He holds me well," is, he entertains a good opinion of
me.— H. N. H.
415. "hell and night"; Shakespeare has shown great judgment in
the darkness which he makes to prevail in the first counsels of Iago.
To the Poet himself, all the succeeding events must have been clear
and determined; but to bring himself again into the situation of one
who sees them in embryo, to draw a mist over that which he had
already cleared, must have required an exertion of genius peculiar
to this author alone. In so lively a manner does he make Iago
show his perplexity about the future management of his conduct,
that one is almost tempted to think that the Poet had determined
as little himself about some of the particulars of Othello's destruc-
tion {Anderson's Bee, vol. i.). H. N. H. —
38
 ; ;

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. i.

ACT SECOND
Scene I

A sea-port in Cyprus, An open place near

the quay.

Enter Montano and two Gentlemen,

Mon. What from the cape can you discern at sea?
First Gent. Nothing at all: it is a high-wrought
flood;
I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main,
Descry a sail.
Mon. Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at hand
A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements:
If it hath rufnan'd so upon the sea,
What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on
them,
'Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of
this?
Sec. Gent. A segregation of the Turkish fleet: 10
For do but stand upon the foaming shore,
The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds
1. A sea-port in Cyprus; the principal seaport town of Cyprus is
Famagusta; where there was formerly a strong fort and commodious
haven, "neare which," says Knolles, "standeth an old castle, with four
towers after the ancient manner of building." To this castle we find
—
that Othello presently repairs. H. N. H.

3F 39
Act II. Sc. i. OTHELLO
The wind-shaked surge, with high and mon-
strous mane,
Seems on the burning bear,
to cast water
And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole :

I never did like molestation view

On the enchafed flood.
Mon. If that the Turkish fleet
Be not shelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd;
It is impossible to bear it out.

Enter a third Gentleman.

Third Gent. News, lads! our wars are done. 20
The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the
Turks,
That their designment halts: a noble ship of
Venice
Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance
On most part of their fleet.
Mon. How! is this true?
Third Gent. The ship is here put in,
A Veronesa; Michael Cassio,
Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello,
Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea,
And is in full commission here for Cyprus.
Mon. I am glad on 't 'tis a worthy governor.
;
30

26. "Veronesa" ; so this name is spelled in the quartos; in the folio,

Verennessa. Modern editors, generally, change it to Veronese, as
referring, not to the ship, but to Cassio. It is true, the same speaker
has just called the ship "a noble ship of Venice"; but Verona was
tributary to the Venetian State; so that there is no reason why she
might not belong to Venice, and still take her name from Verona.
The explanation sometimes given is, that the speaker makes a mis-
take, and calls Cassio a Veronese, who has before been spoken of
as a Florentine. H. N. H. —
40
 —;

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. i-

Third Gent, But this same Cassio, though he speak

of comfort
Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly
And prays the Moor be safe; for they were
parted
With foul and violent tempest.
Mon. Pray heavens he be
For I have served him, and the man commands
Like a full soldier. Let 's to the seaside, ho!
As well to see the vessel that 's come in
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
Even till we make the main and the aerial blue
An indistinct regard.
Third Gent. Come, let 's do so; 40
For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance.
Enter Cassio.

Cas. Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle.

That so approve the Moor! O, let tne heavens
Give him defense against the elements,
For I have lost him on a dangerous sea.
Mon. Is he well shipp'd?
Cas. His bark is stoutly timber' d, and his pilot
Of very expert and approved allowance;
Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, 50
38. "for brave Othello" ; observe in how many ways Othello is
made, first our acquaintance, then our friend, then the object of our
anxietv, before the deeper interest is to be approached (Coleridge).
H. N. H.
39-40; 158; 260 ("didst not mark that?"); omitted in Q. 1.— I. G.
49. "approved allowance" ; that is, of allowed and approved expert-
ness.— H. N. H.
50. "hopes, not surfeited to death," is certainly obscure. Dr. John-
41
 :

Act II. Sc. i. OTHELLO

Stand in bold cure.
\_A cry within:
6
A sail, a sail, a sail!'

Enter a fourth Gentleman.

Cas. What noise?
Fourth Gent. The town is empty; on the brow o'
the sea
Stand ranks of people, and they cry 'A sail!'
Cas. My hopes do shape him for the governor,
[Guns heard.
Sec. Gent. They do discharge their shot of court-
esy:
Our friends at least.
Cas. I pray you, sir, go forth,
And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived.
Sec. Gent. I shall. [Exit.
Mon. But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?
Cas. Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid 61
That paragons description and wild fame;
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
And in the essential vesture of creation
Does tire the ingener.

Re-enter second Gentleman.

How now! who has put in?

son thought there must be some error in the text, not being able to
understand how hope could be increased till it were destroyed.
Knight explains it thus: "As 'hope deferred maketh the heart sick/
so hope upon hope, without realization, is a surfeit of hope, and
extinguishes hope. Cassio had some reasonable facts to prevent his
—
hope being surfeited to death." H. N .H.
65. "tire the ingener"; Knight, Steevens conj.; F. 1, "tyre the In-
geniuer" ; Ff. 2, 3, 4, "tire the Ingeniver" ; Q. 1, "beare all Excel-
—
lency "; Qq. 2, 3, "beare an excelency" —
Johnson conj. "tire the
——
ingenious verse"; Pope, "beare all excellency " I. G.
42 ' —
 !

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. i.

Sec. Gent. 'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.

Cas. He has had most favorable and happy speed:
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling
winds,
The gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands,
Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel, 70
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their mortal natures, letting go safely by
The divine Desdemona.
Mon. What is she?
Cas. She that I spake of, our great captain's cap-
tain,
Left conduct of the bold Iago;
in the
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts
A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove,- XJthello
guard,
And swell his sail with thine own powerful
breath,
That he may bay with his tall ship,
bless this
Make pants in Desdemona's arms,
love's quick
Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits, 81
And bring all Cyprus comfort.
Enter Desdemona, Emilia, Iago, Roderigo,
and Attendants.
O, behold,
The of the ship is come on shore
riches
Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
Hail to thee, lady and the grace of heaven,
!

69. "gutter'd"; indented. [Perhaps "embedded in mud or ooze,"

according to the Scotch and Irish sense of "gutter." —L.] —C. H. H.
82. "And . . . —
Cyprus"; omitted in Ff. I. G.
43
 : — :

A«t II. Sc. i. OTHELLO

Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
Enwheel thee round!
Des. I thank you, valiant Cassio.
What you tell me of my lord?
tidings can
Cas. Henot yet arrived: nor know I aught
is

But that he 's well and will be shortly here. 90

—
Des. O, but I fear How lost you company?
Cas. The great contention of the sea and skies
—
Parted our fellowship But, hark! a sail.
[A cry within: 'A sail, a sail!' Guns heard.
Sec. Gent. They give their greeting to the citadel
This likewise is a friend.
Cas. See for the News. [Exit Gentleman.
Good ancient, you are welcome. [To Emilia]
Welcome, mistress
Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,
That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding
That gives me this bold show of courtesy. 100
[Kissing her.
Iago. Sir, would she give you so much of her lips
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
You 'Id have enough.
Des. Alas, she has no speech.
Iago. In faith, too much;
100. "bold show of courtesy"; observe Othello's "honest," and Cas-
sio's"bold" Iago; and Cassio's full guileless-hearted wishes for the
safety and love-raptures of Othello and "the divine Desdemona."
And note also the exquisite circumstance of Cassio's kissing Iago's
wife, as if it ought to be impossible that the dullest auditor should
not feel Cassio's religious love of Desdemona's purity. Iago's an-
swers are the sneers which a proud bad intellect feels towards
women, and expresses to a wife. Surely it ought to be considered
a very exalted compliment to women, that all the sarcasms on them
in Shakespeare are put in the mouths of villains (Coleridge).
H. N. H.
44
 ;

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. i.

I find it still when I have list to sleep :

Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,

She puts her tongue a little in her heart
And chides with thinking.
Emil. You have little cause to say so.
lago. Come on, come on; you are pictures out of
doors, 110
Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and housewives in
your beds.
Des. O, fie upon thee, slanderer!
Iago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk:
You rise to play, and go to bed to work.
Emil. You shall not write my praise.
Iago. No, let me not.
Des. What wouldst thou write of me, if thou
shouldst praise me?
Iago. O gentle lady, do not put me to 't

For I am nothing if not critical. 120

Des. Come on, assay —There 's one gone to the
harbor ?
Iago. Aye, madam.
Des. I am not merry but I do beguile
;

The thing I am by seeming otherwise.

Come, how wouldst thou praise me?
Iago. I am about it but indeed my invention
;

Comes from my pate as birdlime does from

frize;

112. "saints in your injuries"; that is, when you have a mind to do
injuries, you put on an air of sanctity. —
H. N. H.

45
 ;

Act II. Sc. i. OTHELLO

It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse
labors,
And thus she is deliver'd.
If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit, 130
The one 's for use, the other useth it.
Des. Well praised How if she be black and
!

witty ?
Iago. If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
She '11 find a white that shall her blackness fit.

Des. Worse and worse.

Emil. How if fair and foolish?
lago. She never yet was foolish that was fair;
For even her folly help'd her to an heir.
Des. These are old fond paradoxes to make
fools laugh i' the ale house. What miser- 140
able praise hast thou for her that 's foul and
foolish?
lago. There 's none so foul, and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones
do.
Des. Oheavy ignorance! thou praisest the
worst best. But what praise couldst thou
bestow on a deserving woman indeed, one
that in the authority of her merit did justly
put on the vouch of very malice itself? 150
lago. She that was ever fair and never proud,
Had tongue at will and yet was never loud,
Never lack'd gold and yet went never gay,
Fled from her wish and yet said 'Now I may;'
She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly
She that in wisdom never was so frail
46
 — —

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. I

To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail;

She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind,
See suitors following and not look behind; 160
She was a wight, if ever such wight were,
Des. To do what?
lago. To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.
Des. O most lame and impotent conclusion!
Do not learn of him, Emilia, though he be
thy husband. How
say you, Cassio? is he
not a most profane and liberal counselor?
Cas. He speaks home, madam: you may relish
him more in the soldier than in the scholar.
Iago. [Aside] He takes her by the palm: aye, 170
well said, whisper with as little a web as this
:
J
will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Aye,
smile upon her, do I will gyve thee in thine
;

own courtship. You say true; 'tis so, in-

deed if such tricks as these strip you out of
:

your lieutenantry, it had been better you had

not kissed your three fingers so oft, which
now again you are most apt to play the sir
in. Very good; well kissed! an excellent
courtesy 'tis so, indeed. Yet again your 180
!

fingers to your lips ? would they were clyster-

pipes for your sake! {Trumpet within.']
The Moor I know his trumpet.
!

158. "change cod's head for salmon's tail"; that is, to exchange a
delicacy for coarser fare. So in Queen Elizabeth's Household Book:
"Item, the master cookes have to fee all the salmon's tailes."—*
H. N. H.
163. "chronicle small beer"; that is, to suckle children and keep the
—
accounts of the household. H. N. H.
168. "you may relish him more" etc. Iago's bluntness would be
—
repugnant in a scholar, but is becoming in a soldier. C. H. H.
47
 ! ! ! ; d

Act II. Sc. i. OTHELLO

Cas. 'Tis truly so.
Des. Let 's meet him and receive him.
Cas. Lo, where he comes

Enter Othello and Attendants.

Oth. O my fair warrior!
Des. My
dear Othello!
Oth. It gives me wonder great as my content
To see you here before me. O my soul's joy!
If after every tempest comes such calms, 190
May the winds blow till they have waken"
death!
And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas
Olympus-high, and duck again as low
As hell 's from heaven! If it were now to die,
'Twere now to be most happy! for I fear,
Mysoul hath her content so absolute
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.
Des. The heavens forbid
But that our loves and comforts should increase, -

Even as our days do grow

Oth. Amen to that, sweet powers 200 !

I cannot speak enough of this content

It stops me here; it is too much of joy:
And this, and this, the greatest discords be
[Kissing her.
That e'er our hearts shall make
187. "fair warrior" ; perhaps Othello intends a playful allusion to
the unwillingness Desdemona has expressed to "be left behind, a moth
of peace, and he go to the war." Steevens, however, thinks it was
a term of endearment derived from the old French poets; as Ron-
—
sard, in his sonnets, often calls the ladies guerrieres. H. N. H.
48
 : —

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. i.

lago. [Aside] O, you are well tuned now!

But I '11 set down the pegsThat make this music,
As honest as I am.
Oih. Come, let us to the castle.
News, friends our wars are done, the
; Turks are
drown'd.
How does my old acquaintance of this isle ?

Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus;

I have found great love amongst them. O my
sweet, 210
*
I prattle out of fashion, and I dote
In mine own comforts. I prithee, good lago,
Go to the bay, and disembark my cofF ers
Bring thou the master to the citadel;
He is a good one, and his worthiness
Does challenge much respect. Come, Desde-
mona,
Once more well met at Cyprus.
[Exeunt all but lago and Roderigo.
lago. Do thou meet me presently at the har-
bor. Come hither. If thou be'st valiant
as, they say, base men being in love have 220
then a nobility in their natures more than is
—
native to them list me. The lieutenant to-
night watches on the court of guard. First,
206. "As honest as I am"; Coleridge, as we have seen in a former
note, pronounces lago "a being next to devil, and only not quite
devil." It is worth noting that Milton's Satan relents at the prospect
of ruining the happiness before him, and prefaces the deed with a
gush of pity for the victims; whereas the same thought puts lago
in a transport of jubilant ferocity. Is our idea of Satan's wicked-
ness enhanced by his thus indulging such feelings, and then acting
in defiance of them, or as if he had them not? or is lago more
devilish than he? —
H. N. H.
XXV—4 4Q
 ;

Act II. Sc. i. OTHELLO

I must tell thee this : Desdemona is directly
in love with him.
Rod. With him! why, 'tis not possible.

lago. Lay
thy finger thus, and let thy soul be
instructed. Mark me with what violence
she first loved the Moor, but for bragging
and telling her fantastical lies and will she 230
:

love him still for prating? let not thy dis-

creet heart think it. Her eye must be fed;
and what delight shall she have to look on
the devil? When the blood is made dull with
the act of sport, there should be, again to
inflame it and to give satiety a fresh appetite,
loveliness in favor, sympathy in years, man-
ners and beauties; all which the Moor is de-
fective in: now, for want of these required
conveniences, her delicate tenderness will 240
find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge,
disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature
will instruct her in it and compel her to some
second choice. Now, sir, this granted as —
it is a most pregnant and unforced position

— who stands so eminently in the degree of

this fortune as Cassio does? a knave very
voluble; no further conscionable than in put-
ting on the mere form of civil and humane
seeming, for the better compassing of his 250
salt and most hidden loose affection? why,
none why, none a slipper and subtle knave
; :

a finder out of occasions that has an eye can

;

227. "Lay thy finger thus"; on thy mouth to stop it, while thou
art listening to a wiser man. —
H. N. H.
50
 —

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. i

stamp and counterfeit advantages, though

true advantage never present itself a devel- :

ish knave! Besides, the knave is handsome,

young, and hath all those requisites in him
that folly and green minds look after a pes- :

tilent complete knave; and the woman hath

found him already. 260
Rod. I cannot believe that in her; she 's full of
most blest condition.
Iago. Blest fig's-end! the wine she drinks is
made of grapes: if she had been blest, she
would never have loved the Moor blest pud- :

ding! Didst thou not see her paddle with

the palm of his hand? didst not mark that?
Rod. Yes, that I did; but that was but cour-
tesy.
Iago. Lechery, by this hand an index and ob- 270
;

scure prologue to the history of lust and foul

thoughts. They met so near with their lips
that their breaths embraced together. Vil-
lainous thoughts, Roderigo when these mu- !

tualities so marshal the way, hard at hand

comes the master and main exercise, the in-
corporate conclusion pish But, sir, be you
: !

ruled by me: I have brought you from

Venice. Watch you to-night; for the com-
mand, I 11 lay 't upon you Cassio knows 28(1 :

255. "a devilish knave"; omitted in Qq. I. G.—

265. "blest pudding"; Ff. "Bless'd pudding";omitted in Qq.
I. G.
276-277. "comes the master and main"; so Ff.; Q. 1 reads "comes
the maine"; Qq. 2, 3, "comes Roderigo, the master and the maine."
-I. G.

51
 ;

Act II. Sc. i. OTHELLO

you not: I '11 not be far from you: do you v
find some occasion to anger Cassio, either
by speaking too loud, or tainting his disci-
pline, or from what other course you please,
which the time shall more favorably minister.
Rod. Well.
lago. Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler,
and haply may strike at you: provoke him,
that he may; for even out of that will I cause
^ these of Cyprus to mutiny; whose qualifica- 290
tion shall come into no true taste again but
. by the displanting ofJCassio. So shall you
,

have a shorter journey to your desires by the

means I shall then have to prefer them, and
the impediment most profitably removed,
without the which there were no expectation
of our prosperity.
Rod. I will do this, if I can bring it to any
opportunity.
lago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at 300
the citadel: I must fetch his necessaries
ashore. Farewell.
Rod. Adieu. [Exit.
lago. That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it • ;

That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit:

The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,
Is of a constant, loving, noble nature
And I dare think he '11 prove to Desdemona
A
most dear husband. Now, I do love her too,
Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure
I stand accountant for as great a sin, 310

288. "haply may"; Qq. read "haply with his Trunchen may." — I. G.
52
 ;

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. i.

But partly led to diet my revenge,

For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
Hath leap'd into my seat: the thought whereof y
Doth like a poisonous mineral gnaw my in-
wards ;

And nothing can or. shall content my soul

Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife
Or failing so, yet that I put th e_Moor /
At least into a jealousy so strong
That judgme nt cannot cure. Which thing to
do,
If this whom I trash 330
poor trash of Venice,
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
I '11 have our Michael Cassio on the hip,
Abuse him to the Moor i n the rank garb ;

For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too.;

Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward
me,
For making him egregiously an ass
And practising upon his peace and quiet
Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused :

Knavery's plain face is never seen till used.

[Exit.
"poor trash of Venice, whom I trash".' Steevens' emendation;
320.
Q. 1, "poor trash ...
J crush"; Ff., Qq. 2, 3, "poor Trash
. . / trace"; Theobald, Warburton conj. "poor brach
. . . .

I trace"; Warburton (later conj.) "poor brach 7 cherish." ...

— I. G.
321. "stand the putting on"; prove equal to the chase when cried
on to the quarry. Iago hampers Roderigo's "quick hunting" of Des-
demona to start him on his own prey. — C. H. H.
329. "never seen used"; an honest man acts upon a plan, and
till

forecasts his designs; but a knave depends upon temporary and

local opportunities, and never knows his own purpose, but at the
time of execution (Johnson). H. N. H. —
Act II. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Scene II

A street.

Enter a Herald with a proclamation; People fol-

lowing.

Her. It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and val-

iant general, that upon certain tidings now
arrived, importing the mere perdition of the
Turkish fleet, every man put himself into
triumph; some to dance, some to make bon-
fires, each man to what sport and revels his
addiction leads him: for, besides these bene-
ficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial.
So much was his pleasure should be pro-
claimed. All offices are open, and there is 1°
full liberty of feasting from this present
hour of five till the bell have told eleven.
Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our no-
ble general Othello ! [Exeunt.

Scene III

A hall in the castle.

Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants.

Oth. Good Michael, look you to the guard to-
night :

10. "All offices are open"; All rooms, or places in the castle, at
which refreshments are prepared or served out. H. N. H. —
54
 ;

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. iii.

Let 'steach ourselves that honorable stop,

Not to outsport discretion.
Cas. Iago hath direction what to do
But notwithstanding with my personal eye
Will I look to 't.
Oth. Iago is most honest.
Michael, good night to-morrow with your
:

earliest
Let me have speech with you. Come, my dear
love,
The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;
That profit 's yet to come 'tween me and you.
Good night. 11
[Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and Attendants.

Enter Iago.
Cas. Welcome, Iago we must to the watch.
;

Iago. Not this hour, lieutenant 'tis not yet ten

;

o' the clock. Our general cast us thus early

for the love of his Desdemona; who let us
not therefore blame: he hath not yet made
• wanton the night with her, and she is sport
for Jove.
Cas. She 's a most exquisite lady.
Iago. And, I '11 warrant her, full of game. 20 <-

Cas. Indeed she 's a most fresh and delicate ^

creature.
Iago. What an eye she has! methinks it sounds
a parley to provocation.
Cas. An inviting eye; and yet methinks right
modest.

55
Act II. Sc. iii. OTHELLO
lago. And when she speaks, is it not an alarum
to love ?
Cas. She indeed perfection.
is

lago. Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, 30

lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine and here ;

without are a brace of Cyprus gallants that

would fain have a measure to the health of
black Othello.
Cas. Not to-night, good lago I have very poor :

and unhappy brains for drinking: I could

well wish courtesy would invent some other
custom of entertainment.
lago. O, they are our friends but one cup I '11
; :

drink for you. 40

Cas. I have drunk but one cup to-night, and
that was craftily qualified too, and behold
what innovation it makes here: I am unfor-
tunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my
weakness with any more.
lago. What, man 'tis a night of revels the gal-
! :

lants desire it.

30-46. In these few short speeches of lago is disclosed the inner-

most soul of a cold intellectual sensualist, his faculties dancing and
capering amidst the provocatives of passion, because himself with-
out passion. Senseless or reckless of everything good, but keenly
alive to whatsoever he can turn to a bad use, his mind acts like a
sieve, to strain out all the wine and retain only the lees of woman-
hood; which lees he delights to hold up as the main constituents of
the sex. And Cassio's very delicacy and religiousness of thought
prevent his taking offense at the villain's heartless and profane levity,
lago then goes on to suit himself to all the demands of the frankest
joviality. As he is without any feelings, so he can feign them all
indifferently, to work out his design. Knight justly observes that
"other dramatists would have made him gloomy and morose; but
Shakespeare knew that the boon companion, and the cheat and trai-
tor, are not essentially distinct characters." —
H. N. H.
43. "here" i. e. in my head. —
L G.
56
 : :

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. iiL

Cas. Where are they?

Iago. Here at the door; I pray you, call them in.
Cas. I '11 do 't; but it dislikes me. [Exit. 50
Iago. If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
With that which he hath drunk to-night al-
ready,
He '11 be as full of quarrel and offense
As my young mistress' dog. Now my sick fool
Roderigo,
Whom love hath turn'd almost wrong side out*
To Desdemona hath to-night caroused
Potations pottle-deed and he 's to watch
;

Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits,

That hold their honors in a wary distance,
The very elements of this warlike isle, 60
Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups,
And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock
of drunkards,
Am I to put our Cassio in some action
That may off end the isle. But here they come
If consequence do but approve my dream,
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.

Re-enter Cassio; with him Montano and Gentle-

men; Servants following with wine.
Cas. Tore God, they have given me a rouse al-
ready.
Mon. Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I
am a soldier. 70
60. "warlike isle"; as quarrelsome as the discordia semina rerum;.
—
as quick in opposition as fire and water (Johnson). H. N. H

57
 ; ;

Act II. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Iago. Some wine, ho!

[Sings] And let me the canakin clink, clink

And letme the canakin clink:
A soldier 's a man
A life 's but a span;
Why then let a soldier drink.

Some wine, boys!

Cas. 'Fore God, an excellent song.
Iago. I learned it in England, where indeed
they are most potent in potting: your Dane, 80
your German, and your swag-bellied Hol-
lander, — —
Drink, ho! are nothing to your
English.
Cas. Is your Englishman so expert in his drink-
ing?
Iago. Why, he drinks you with facility your
Dane dead chunk; he sweats not to over-
throw your Almain he gives your Hollander
;

a vomit ere the next pottle can be filled.

Cas. To the health of our general! 90
21 on. I am for it, lieutenant, and I '11 do you
justice.
Iago. O sweet England!

[Sings] King Stephen was a worthy peer,

His breeches cost him but a crown
He held them sixpence all too dear,
With that he call'd the tailor lown.
91. "do you justice"; that is, drink as much as you do. H. X. H. —
94—101. These lines are from an old song called ' Take thy old
cloak about thee" to be found in Percy's Reliques. I. G. —
58
THE MOOR Act II. Sc. iii.

He was a wight of high renown,

And thou art but of low degree:
'Tis pride that pulls the country down 100 ;

Then take thine auld cloak about thee.

Some wine, ho!
Cas. Why, this is a more exquisite song than
the other.
lago. Will you hear 't again ?
Cas. No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his
place that does those things. Well God 's :

above all; and there be souls must be saved,

and there be souls must not be saved.
lago. It 's true, good lieutenant. 110
—
Cas. For mine own part no offense to the
general, nor any man of quality I hope to —
be saved.
lago. And so do I too, lieutenant.
Cas. Aye, but, by your leave, not before me the ;

lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient.

Let 's have no more of
this let 's to our af-
;

fairs. Godforgive us our sins! Gentle-

men, let 's look to our business. Do not
think, gentlemen, I am drunk this is my an- 120
:

cient: this is my right hand, and this is my

left. I am not drunk now; I can stand
well enough, and speak well enough.
AIL Excellent well.
Cas. Why, very well then; you must not think
then that I am drunk. [Exit.
Mon. To the platform, masters; come, let 's set
the watch.

59
 : ;; —

Act II. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

lago. You
see this fellow that is gone before
He a soldier fit to stand by Caesar
is 130
And give direction and do but see his vice
:

'Tis to his virtue a just equinox,

The one as long as the other 'tis pity of him. :

I fear the trust Othello puts him in

On some odd time of his infirmity
Will shake this island.
Mon. But is he often thus?
lago. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep
He '11 watch the horologe a double set,
If drink rock not his cradle.
Mon. It were well
The general were put in mind of it. 140
Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature
Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio
And looks not on his evils is not this true ?
:

Enter Roderigo.
lago. [Aside to him~\ How now, Roderigo!
I pray you, after the lieutenant; go.
[Exit Rodena^
Mon. And 'tis great pity that the noble Moo.
Should hazard such a place as his own second
With one of an ingraft infirmity:
It were an honest action to say
So to the Moor.
130. "a soldier fit to stand by Ccesar"; how differently the liar
speaks of Cassio's soldiership to Montano and to Roderigo! He is
now talking where he is liable to be called to account for ais words.
H. N. H.
138. "set"; series of twelve hours. He will watch a whole day and
night.—C. H. H.

60
 — ! —

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. iii.

Iago. Not I, for this fair island:

I do love Cassio well, and would do much 150
To cure him of this evil: But, hark! what —
noise ?
A cry within: 'Help! help!'

Re-enter Cassio , driving in Roderigo.

Cas. 'Zounds ! you rogue you ! rascal

Mon. What 's the matter, lieutenant?
Cas. Aknave teach me my duty! But I '11

beat the knave into a wicker bottle.

Rod. Beat me!
Cas. Dost thou prate, rogue? [Striking Roderigo. y
Mon. Nay, good lieutenant; I pray you, sir,
hold your hand.
Cas. Let me go, sir, or I '11 knock you o'er the
mazzard.
Mon. Come, come, you 're drunk.
Cas. Drunk! [They fight.
Iago. [Aside to Roderigo] Away, I say; go out v
and cry a mutiny. [Eadt Roderigo. I 60
Nay, good lieutenant! God's will, gentlemen!
Help, ho —Lieutenant,— —Montano,
!
sir,
;
sir
Help, masters! —Here's a goodly watch in-
deed! [A bell rings.
Who 's that that rings the bell ?—Diablo, ho!
The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant, hold;
You will be shamed for ever.

Re-enter Othello and Attendants.

Oth. What is the matter here?

61
 :! —

Act II. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Mo n. 'Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death.
[Faints.
Oth. Hold, for your lives!
Iago. Hold, ho; Lieutenant, sir, Montano, — —
gentlemen, — 169
Have you forgot all sense of place and duty ]

Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, for

shame
Oth. Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?
y Are we turn'd Turks, and to ourselves do that
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?
For Christian shame, put by this barbarous
brawl
He that stirs next to carve for his own rage
Holds his soul light ; he dies upon his motion.
Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle
From her proprietv. What is the matter, mas-
ters? 179
Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving,
Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge
thee.
Iago. I do not know : friends all but now, even now,
In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom
Devesting them for bed; and then, but now,
As if some planet had unwitted men,
Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast,
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak
Any beginning to this peevish odds,
And would in action glorious I had lost

170. "seme of place"; Hanmer's emendation of Qq., Ff., "place of

sense."— I. G.
173. "turn'd Turks": a bitter play upon the proverbial phrase,
which meant to "make a complete change for the worse." C. H. H. —
62
 — — ;;

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. iii.

Those legs that brought me to a part of it 190 !

Oih. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?

Cas. I pray you, pardon me I cannot speak.
;

Oth. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil

The gravity and stillness of your youth
The world hath noted, and your name is great
In mouths of wisest censure what 's the matter,
:

That you unlace your reputation thus,

And spend your rich opinion for the name
Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.
Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger 200 :

Your officer, Iago, can inform you

While I spare speech, which something now of-
fends me
Of all that I do know nor know
: I aught
By me that 's said or done amiss this night
Unless self -charity be sometimes a vice,
And to defend ourselves it be a sin
When violence assails us.
Oih. Now, by heaven
My blood begins my safer guides to rule,
And passion, having my best judgment col-
lied,
Assays to lead the way if I once stir,
:
210
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know y
How this foul rout began, who set it on,
And he that is approved in this off ense,
Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
Shall lose me. What in a town of war,
!

Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear,

To manage private and domestic quarrel,
6*
 — —
Act II. Sc. iii. OTHELLO
In night, and on the court and guard of safety!
'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began 't? 220
Mon. If partially affined, or leagued in office,
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
Thou art no soldier.
Iago. Touch me not so near:
I had rather have this tongue cut from my
mouth
Than it should do offense to Michael Cassio;
Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general.
Montano and myself being in speech,
There comes a fellow crying out for help,
And Cassio following him with determined
sword, 230
To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman
Steps in to Cassio and entreats his pause:
Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
—
Lest by his clamor as it so fell out
The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot,
Outran my purpose and I return'd the rather
!

For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,

^And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night
I ne'er might say before. When I came back
—
For this was brief I found them close to-
gether, 240
At blow and thrust ; even as again they were
When you yourself did part them.
More of this matter cannot I report:
But men are men; the best sometimes forget:
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,
235. "in fright"; into a panic —C. H. H.
64
 ! ;
:

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. iii.

As men in rage strike those that wish them best,

Yetsurely Cassio, I believe, received
From him that fled some strange indignity,
Which patience could not pass.
Oth. I know, Iago,
Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, 250
Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee
But never more be officer of mine.

Re-enter Desdemona, attended.

Look, if my gentle love be not raised up

I make thee an example.
'11

Des. What 's the matter?

Oth. All 's well now, sweeting come away to bed.
;

Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon

[To Montana, who is led off.
Lead him off.
Iago, look with care about the town,
And silence those whom this vile brawl dis-
tracted.
Come, Desdemona: 'tis the soldiers' life 260
To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.
[Exeunt all but Iago and Cassio.
Iago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
Cas. Aye, past all surgery.
Iago. Marry, heaven forbid!
Cas. Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I
have lost my reputation I have lost the im-
!

mortal part of myself, and what remains is

bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputa-
tion!
Iago. As I am an honest man, I thought you 270
XXV-5 65
Act II. Sc. iii. OTHELLO
had received some bodily wound; there is
more sense in that than in reputation. Rep-
utation is an idle and most false imposition;
oft got without merit and lost without de-
serving: you have lost no reputation at all,
unless you repute yourself such a loser.
What, man! there are ways to recover the
general again: you are but now cast in his
mood, a punishment more in policy than in
malice even so as one would beat his off ense-
; 280
less dog to affright an imperious lion: sue
to him again, and he 's yours.
Cas. I will rather sue to be despised than to de-
ceive so good a commander with so slight,
drunken, and so indiscreet an officer.
so
Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble?
swagger? swear? and discourse fustian with
one's own shadow? O thou invisible spirit
p of wine, if thou hast no name to be known
by, let us call thee devil! 290
Iago. What was he that you followed with your
sword? What had he done to you?
Cas. I know not.
Iago. Is 't possible?
Cas. I remember a mass of things, but nothing
distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore.
O
God, that men should put an enemy in
their mouths to steal away their brains that
!

we should, with joy, pleasance, revel and ap-

plause, transform ourselves into beasts! 300
Iago. Why, but you are now well enough: how
came you thus recovered?
66
 ! !

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. iii.

Cas. It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to

give place to the devil wrath: one unperfect-
ness shows me another, to make me frankly
\
despise myself.
Iago. Come, you are too severe a moraler: as
the time, the place, and the condition of this
country stands, I could heartily wish this
had not befallen but since it is as it is, mend 310
;

it for your own good.

Cas. I Will ask him for my place again; he

shall tell me I am a drunkard! Had I is
many mouths as Hydra, such an answer
would stop them all. To be now a sensible
man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast
O strange Every inordinate cup is unblest,
!

and the ingredient is a devil.

Iago. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar
creature, if it be well used exclaim no more 320
:

against it. And, good lieutenant, I think

you think I love you.
Cas. I have well approved it, sir. I drunk
Iago. You or any man living may be drunk at
some time, man. I '11 tell you what you
shall do. Our general's wife is now the gen-
eral. I may say so in this respect, for that
he hath devoted and given up himself to the
contemplation, mark and denotement of her
parts and graces: confess yourself freely to 330
her; importune her help to put you in your
317. "approved"; —
found by experience. C. H. H.
325. "some time"; so Qq.; Ff., "a time"; Grant White, "one time.3*
—L G.

67
Act II. Sc. iii. OTHELLO
place again; she is of so free, so kind, so apt,
so blessed a disposition, she holds
it a vice in

her goodness not to do more than she is re-

quested: this broken joint between you and
her husband entreat her to splinter and, my ;

fortunes against any lay worth naming, this

crack of your love shall grow stronger than
it was before.

Cas. You advise me well. 340

Iago. I protest, in the sincerity of love and hon-
est kindness.
Cas. I think it freely; and betimes in the morn-
ing I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to
undertake for me: I am desperate of my
fortunes if they check me here.
Iago. You are in the right. Good night, lieuten-
ant;
I must to the watch.
Cas. Good night, honest Iago. [Exit.
Iago. And what 's he then that says I play the vil-
^
lain? 350
When this advice is free I give and honest,
Probal to thinking, and indeed the course
To win the Moor again ? For 'tis most easy
The inclining Desdemona to subdue
In any honest suit. She 's framed as fruitful
As the free elements. And then for her
To win the Moor, were 't to renounce his bap-
tism,
All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,

j His soul is so enfetter'd to her love, 359

:

337. "lay"; wager.— C. H. H.

68
 : —

THE MOOR Act II. Sc. iii.

That she may make, unmake, do what she list,

Even as her appetite shall play the god
With his weak function. How am I then a b>
villain \
To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,
Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!
When devils will the blackest sins put on,
They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,
As I do now: for whiles this honest fool
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes,
And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
I '11 pour this pestilence into his ear, 370
That she repeals him for her body's lust;\
And by how much she strives to do him goody
She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
Sojyill I turn her virtue into pitch
And out of her own goodness make the net
That shall enmesh them all.

Enter Rodcrigo.
How now, Roderigo!
Rod. I do follow here in the chase, not like a
hound that hunts, but one that fills up the
cry. My money almost spent; I have
is
been to-night exceeding^ well cudgeled; 380
and I think the issue will be, I shall have so
much experience for my pains; and so, with
363. "Parallel course" for course level or even with his design.
H. N. H.
365. "when devils will"; that is, when devils will instigate to their
blackest sins, they tempt, &c. We have repeatedly met with the same
—
use of put on for instigate, and of suggest for tempt. H. N. H.

69
 ; !

Act II. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

no money at all and a little more wit, return
'

' again to Venice.

lago. How poor are they that have not patience
What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
Thou know'st we work by wit and not by witch-
craft,
And wit depends on dilatory time.
Does 't not go well ? Cassio hath beaten thee,
And thou by that small hurt hast cashier'd
Cassio: 390
Though other things grow fair against the sun,
Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe:
Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morn-
ing;
Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:
Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:
Nay, get thee gone. [Exit Rod.] Two things
are to be done:
t<My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress;
I '11 set her on
Myself the while to draw the Moor apart, 400
And bring him jump when he may Cassio find
Soliciting his wife: aye, that 's the way;
Dull not device by coldness and delay. [Exit.
392. "fruits that blossom
first"; the "blossoming" of things, to
which lago alludes, the removal of Cassio. As their plan had
is
already blossomed, so there was good hope that the fruits of it would
soon be ripe. — The folio substitutes In troth for By th' mass. —
H. N. H.

70
 ;

+
THE MOOR Act III. Sc.

ACT THIRD
Scene I

Before the castle.

Enter Cassio and some Musicians.

Cas. Masters, play here I will content your pains
;

Something that 's brief; and bid 'Good morrow,

general.' [Music.

Enter Clown.
Clo. Why, masters, have your instruments been
in Naples, that they speak i' the nose thus?
First Mus. How, sir, how?
Clo. Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments?
First Mus. Aye, marry, are they, sir.
Clo. O, thereby hangs a tail.
First Mus. Whereby hangs a tale, sir?
Clo. Marry, sir, by many a wind-instrument 1G
that I know. But masters, here 's money
for you and the general so likes your music,
:

that he desires you, for love's sake, to make

no more noise with it.

2. "Good morrow, general" ; it was usual for friends to serenade a

new-married couple on the morning after the celebration of the mar-
riage, or to greet them with a morning song to bid them good mor-
—
row. H. N. H.
13. "for love's sake"; Q. 1, "of all loues" —
I. G.

4F 71
 ! :

Act III. Sc. i. OTHELLO

First Mus. Well, sir, we will not.
Clo. If you have any music that may not be
heard, to 't again : but, as they say, to hear
music the general does not greatly care.
First Mus. We
have none such, sir.
Clo. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for 20
I '11 away go vanish
: ; into air ;away
[Exeunt Musicians.
Cas. Dost thou hear, my honest friend?
Clo. No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear
you.
Cas. Prithee, keep up thy quillets. There 's a
poor piece of gold for thee: if the gentle-
woman that attends the general's wife be
stirring, tell her there 's one Cassio entreats
her a little favor of speech: wilt thou do this?
Clo. She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, 30
I shall seem to notify unto her.
Cas. Do, good my friend. [Eaoit Clown.
Enter lago.
In happy time, lago.
lago. You have not been a-bed, then?
Cas. Why, no the day had broke
;

Before we parted. I have made bold, lago,

To send in to your wife: my suit to her
Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona
Procure me some access.
lago. '11 send her to you presently
I
And I '11 devise a mean to draw the Moor .

Out of the way, that your converse and busi-

ness 40
72
 :

THE MOOR Act III. Sc. i.

May be more free.

Cas. I humbly thank you for 't. [Exit I ago.]
I never knew
A Florentine more kind and honest.

Enter Emilia.
Emil. Good morrow, good lieutenant: I am sorry
For your displeasure; but all will sure be well.
The general and his wife are talking of it,
And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor re-
plies,
That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus
And great affinity, and that in wholesome wis-
dom
He might not but refuse you; but he protests
he loves you, 50
And needs no other suitor but his likings
To take the safest occasion by the front
To bring you in again.
Cas. Yet, I beseech you,
If you think fit, or that it may be done,
Give me advantage of some brief discourse
With Desdemona alone.
Emil. Pray you, come in
you where you shall have time
I will bestow
To speak your bosom freely.
Cas. I am much bound to you.
[Exeunt.
43. "Florentine," i. e. "even a Florentine"; Iago was a Venetian.
—I. G.
45. "for your displeasure" ; that is, the displeasure you have in-
curred from Othello.— H. N. H.
52. Omitted in Ff.— I. G.

73
 : ;

Act III. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Scene II

A room in the castle.

Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen.
Oth. These letters give, Iago, to the pilot;
And by him do my duties to the senate
That done, I will be walking on the works
Repair there to me.
Iago. Well, my good lord, I '11 do 't.

Oth. This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see 't?

Gent. We
'11 wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt.

Scene III

The garden of the castle.

Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia.

JDes.Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do
All my abilities in thy behalf.
Emil. Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my
husband
As if the case were his.
Des. O, that 's an honest fellow. Do not doubt,
Cassio,
But I will have my lord and you again
As friendly as you were.
Cas. Bounteous madam,
Whatever become of Michael Cassio,
shall
He 's never any thing but your true servant.
74
 ; —

THE MOOR Act III. Sc. iii.

Des. I know 't : I thank you. You do love my

lord: <0
You have known him long; and be you well
assured
He shall in strangeness stand no farther off
Than in a politic distance.
Cos. Aye, but, lady,
That policy may either last so long,
Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
Orbreed itself so out of circumstance,
That, I being absent and my place supplied,
My general will forget my love and service.
Des. Do not doubt that; before Emilia hem
I give thee warrant of thy place assure tnee, 20 :

If I do vow a friendship, I '11 perform it

To the last article my lord shall never rest
:

I '11 watch him tame and talk him out of pa-

tience ;

His bed seem a school, his board a shrift;

shall
I intermingle every thing he does
'11

With Cassio's suit; therefore be merry, Cassio;

For thy solicitor shall rather die
Than give thy cause away.
Enter Othello and Iago, at a distance.

Emit. Madam, here comes my lord.

Cos. Madam, I '11 take my leave. 30

14. "last so long" ; he may either of himself think it politic to keep

me out of office so long, or he may be satisfied with such slight rea-
sons, or so many accidents may make him think my readmission at
that time improper, that I mav be quite forgotten (Johnson).
H. N. H.
23. "watch him tame," i. e. tame him by keeping him from sleep
(as was done with hawks). — T. G.
75
 !

Act III. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Des. Nay, stay and hear me speak.
Cas. Madam, not now I am very ill at ease,
:

Unfit for mine own purposes.

Des, Well, do your discretion. [Exit Cassio.
Iago. Ha I like not that.!

Oth. What dost thou say?

—
Iago. Nothing, my lord: or if I know not what.
Oth. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?
Iago. Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I cannot think
it,

That he would steal away so guilty-like,

Seeing you coming.
Oth. I do believe 'twas he. 40
Des. How now, my lord
I have been talking with a suitor here.
A man that languishes in your displeasure.
Oth. Who is 't you mean?
Des. Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my
lord,
If I have any grace or power to move you.
His present reconciliation take;
For if he be not one that truly loves you,
That errs in ignorance and not in cunning,
I have no judgment in an honest face: 50
I prithee, call him back.
Oth. Went he hence now ?
Des. Aye, sooth so humbled,
;

That he hath left part of his grief with me,

To suffer with him. Good love, call him back.
Oth. Not now, sweet Desdemona some other time.;

Des. But shall 't be shortly ?

Oth. The sooner, sweet, for you.
76
 —— ;

THE MOOR Act in. Sc. iii.

Des. Shall 't be to-night at supper? f

Oth. No, not to-night \
Des. To-morrow dinner then?
Oth. I shall not dine at home;
I meet the captains at the citadel.
Des. Why then to-morrow night; or Tuesday
morn ; 60
On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday
morn:
I prithee, name the time but let ; it not
Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent;
And yet his trespass, in our common reason
Save that, they say, the wars must make ex-
amples
Out of their best —
not almost a fault
is

To incur a private check. When shall he come?

Tell me, Othello I wonder in my soul,
:

What you would ask me, that I should deny,

Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael
Cassio, 70
That came a-wooing with you, and so many a
time
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly
Hath ta'en your part; to have so much to do
To bring him in ! Trust me, I could do much
Oth. Prithee, no more let him come when he will
:

I will deny thee nothing.

Des. Why, this is not a boon;
'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm,
Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit
To your own person nay, when I have a suit 8®
:

77
 — — :

Act III. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
It shall be full of poise and difficult weight,
And fearful to be granted.
Oth. I will deny thee nothing
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leave me but a little to myself.
Des. Shall I deny you ? no farewell, my lord. :

Oth. Farewell, my Desdemona I '11 come to thee :

straight.
Des. Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you;
Whate'er you be, I am obedient.
[Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia.
Oth. Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,
But I do love thee and when I love thee not, 91
!

Chaos is come again.

lago. My noble lord,
Oth. What dost thou say, lago?
lago. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my
lady,
Know of your love ?

Oth. He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask?

lago. But for a satisfaction of my thought;
No further harm.
Oth. Why
of thy thought, lago ?
92. "Chaos is come again"; the meaning is, "Ere I cease to love
thee, the world itself shall be reduced to its primitive chaos." But
is used in its exceptive sense, be out, but that, or, "if I do not love
thee."— H. N. H.
96. "why dost thou ask?"; in Act i. sc. 2, when lago, speaking of
the Moor to Cassio, says, "He's married," Cassio asks, "To whom?"
Yet here he seems to have known all about it. Of course the explana-
tion is, that Cassio there feigned ignorance, in order to keep his
friend's secret till it should be publicly known. H. N. H. —
78
 : !

THE MOOR Act III. Sc. iii.

lago. I did not think he had been acquainted with

her.
Oth. O, yes, and went between us very oft. 100
lago. Indeed!
Oth. Indeed! aye, indeed: discern'st thou aught in
that?
Is he not honest?
lago. Honest, my lord!
Oth. Honest! aye, honest.
lago. My
lord, for aught I know.
Oth. What dost thou think?
lago. Think, my lord
Oth. Think, my lord By heaven, he echoes me,
!

As if there were some monster in his thought

Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean
something
I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not that,
When Cassio left my wife what didst not like ? :

And when I told thee he was of my counsel HI

In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst
'Indeed!'
And didst contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me,
Show me thy thought.
lago. My lord, you know I love you.
Oth. I think thou dost;
And for I know thou 'rt full of love and hon-
esty
106. "By heaven, he echoes me" ; Q. 1, "By heauen he ecchoes me";
Ff., "Alas, thou ecchos't me"; Qq. 2, 3, "why dost thou ecchoe me."
—I. G.

79
 ! ; — :

Act III. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

And weight'st thy words before thou givest
them breath,
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the
more : 120
For such things in a false disloyal knave
Are tricks of custom; but in a man that 's just
They 're close Relations, working from the heart,
That passion cannot rule.
Iago. For Michael Cassio,
I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.
Oth. I think so too.
Iago. Men should be what they seem;
Or those that be not, would they might seem
none
Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem.
Iago. Why then I think Cassio 's an honest man.
Oth. Nay, yet there 's more in this : 130
I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,
As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of
thoughts
The worst of words.
Iago. Good my lord, pardon me
Though I am bound to every act of duty,
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.
Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile
and false
As where 's that palace whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so
pure,
132. "thy worst of thoughts"; so Ff., Q. 2; Q. 1, reads "the worst
of thoughts"; Q. 3, "thy thoughts"; perhaps we should read:
"As thou dost rum'nate, give thy worst of thoughts." — I. G.
80*
 —

THE MOOR Act III. Sc. iii.

But some uncleanly apprehensions

Keep leets and law-days, and in session sit 140
With meditations lawful?
Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
If thou but think'st him wrong'd and makest his
ear
A stranger to thy thoughts.
Iago. I do beseech you
Though I perchance vicious in my guess,
am
As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not —that your wisdom
yet,
From one that so imperfectly conceits,
Would take no notice, nor build yourself a
trouble 150
Out of his scattering and unsure observance.
It were not for your quiet nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
To let you know my thoughts.
Oth. What dost thou mean?
Iago. Good name in man and woman, dear my
lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
146. "my nature's 'plague"; has been proposed to read "of my
it

jealousy," and change shapes shape. At first sight, this is

into
plausible, as it satisfies the grammar perfectly. But jealousy is
itself, evidently, the "nature's plague" of which Iago is speaking.
—
So that the sense would be, "It is my nature's plague to spy into
abuses, and of my nature's plague to shape faults that are not";
which comes pretty near being nonsense. On the other hand, if we
—
read, "It is my nature's plague to spy into abuses, and oft my
—
nature's plague shapes faults that are not," the language is indeed
not good, but the sense is perfect. -H. N. H.—
156. "the immediate jewel of their souls"; their most intimate pos-
session after life itself. —C. H. H.
XXV— 6 83
 ; ! :

Act III. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Who steals my purse steals trash something, ; 'tis

nothing
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thou-
sands ;

But he that filches from me mv good name

Robs me of that which not enriches him 160
And makes me poor indeed .

Oih. By heaven, I '11 know thy thoughts.

lago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;
Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.
Oih. Ha!
lago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock
The meat feeds on: that cuckold lives in bliss
it

Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;

But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er
Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly
loves! 170
Oih. O misery!
lago. Poor and content is rich, and rich enough;
But riches fineless is as poor as winter
To him that ever fears he shall be poor
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!
Oth. Why, why is this
Think'st thou I 'Id make a life of jealousy,
To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt
166. "mock", i. e. makes its sport with its prey (like a cat), tor-
turing him with "damned minutes" of doubt, instead of making him
"certain of his fate" at once. Hanmer read "make." C. H. H. —
168. "his wronger"; i. e. the wife.— C. H. H.
170. "strongly"; so Qq.; Ff., "soundly"; Knight, "fondly."—I. G.
82
 ; :

THE MOOR Act III. Sc. iii.

Is once to be resolved: exchange me for a goat,

When I shall turn the business of my soul 181
To such exsufflicate and blown surmises,
Matching thy inference. "Tis not to make me
jealous
To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves com-
pany,
Is free of speech, sings, plays and dances well;
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt;
For she had eyes, and chose me. JNp, Iago,
I^U see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And on the proof, there is no more but this, 191
Away at once with love or jealousy!
Iago. I am glad of it; for now I shall have reason
To show the love and duty that I bear you
With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound,
Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof.
Look to your wife: observe her well with Cassi o;
Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure:
I would not have your free and noble nature
Out of self -bounty be abused look to 't ;
200 :

I know our country disposition well

In Venice they do let heaven see the pran ks
Thev dare not show their husbands; their ^best
conscience
Is not to leave 't undone, but keep 't unknown.
204. "but keep't unknown"; this and the following argument of
Iago ought to be deeply impressed on every reader. Deceit and
falsehood, whatever conveniences they may for a time promise or
produce, are in the sum of life obstacles to happiness. Those who
profit by the cheat, distrust the deceiver, and the act by which kind-

83
 :

Act III. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Oth. Dost thou say so?
Iago. She did deceive he r father, marrying you;
And when she seem'd to shake and^fear your
looks,
She loved them most.
Oth. And so she did.
Iago. Why, go to then;
She that so young could give out such a seem-
ing,
To seel her father's eyes up close as oak — 210
He thought 'twas witchcraft —but I am much
to blame;
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon
For too much loving you.
Oth. I am bound to thee for ever.
Iago. I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits.
Oth. Not a jot, not a jot.
Iago. I' faith, I fear it has
I hope you will consider what is spoke
Comes from my love; but I do see you're
moved
Iam to pray you not to strain my speech
To grosser issues nor to larger reach
Than to suspicion. 220
Oth. I will not.
ness is —
sought puts an end to confidence. The same objection may-
be made with a lower degree of strength against the imprudent
generosity of disproportionate marriages. When the first heat of
passion is over, it is easily succeeded by suspicion, that the same vio-
lence of inclination, which caused one irregularity, may stimulate
to another; and those who have shown that their passions are too
powerful for their prudence, will, with very slight appearances against
them, be censured, as not very likely to restrain them by their virtue
(Johnson).— H. N. H.

84
 — :

THE MOOR Act III. Sc. iii.

lago. Should you do so, my lord,

My speech should fall into such vile success
As my thoughts ^im not at. Cassio 's my
worthy friend—
My lord, I see you 're moved.
Oth. No, not much moved
I do not think but Desdemona's honest.
Iago. Long live she so! and long live you to think
so!
Oth. And yet, how nature erring from itself
—
lago. Aye, there 's the point as to be bold with
:

you—
Not to aff ect many proposed matches
Of her own complexion and degree, 230
clime,
Whereto we see in all things nature tends
Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank,
Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural.
But pardon me; I do not in position
Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
May fall to match you with her country forms.
And happily repent.
Oth. Farewell, farewell:
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;
Set on thy wife to observe: leave me, lago. 240
lago. [Going'] My
lord, I take my leave.
Oth. Why did I marry? This honest creature
doubtless
Sees and knows more, much more, than he un-
folds.

236. "recoiling to"; slipping from the control of.— C. H. H.

238. "happily" ; haply.— C. H. H.
85
 — —— ; :

Act III. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

lago. [Returning] My lord, I would I might en-
treat your honor
To
scan this thing no further leave it to time ;

Though it be fit that Cassio have his place,

'For sure he fills it up with great ability,
Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile,
You shall by that perceive him and his means:
Note if your lady strain his entertainment 250
With any strong or vehement importunity
Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
Let me be thought too busy in my fears
As worthy cause I have to fear I am
And hold her free, I do beseech your honor.
Oth. Fear not my government.
lago. I once more take my leave. [Exit.
Oth. This fellow 's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings. If I do prove her hag-
"
gard, 260
Though that her jesses were my dear heart-
strings,
I 'Id whistle her off and let her down the wind
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black
And have not those soft parts of conversation
That chamberers have, or for I am declined
—
Into the vale of years, yet that 's not much
means" ; you
249. "his shall discover whether he thinks his best
means, his most powerful interest, is by the solicitation of your lady.
— H. N. H.
250. "strain his entertainment" j that is, press his readmission to pay
and office.— H. N. H.
259. "learned spirit"; the construction is, "He knows with a learned
spirit all qualities of human dealings. — H. N. H.

86
 : ;

THE MOOR Act III. Sc. iii.

She 's gone I

; am abused, and my relief
Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
And not their appetites! I had rather be a
toad, 270
And live upon the vapor of a dungeon,
Than keep a corner in the thing I love
For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great
ones;
Prerogatived are they less than the base
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death
Even then this forked plague is fated to us
When we do quicken. Desdemona comes;
'Re-enter Desdemona and Emilia.
If she be false, O, then heaven mpcks itself!
I '11 not believe 't.

Des. How now, my dear Othello!

Your dinner, and the generous islanders 280
By you invited, do attend your presence.
Oth. I am to blame.
Des. Why do you speak so faintly?
Are you not well ?
Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here. 1 '" :<
' -

276. "forked plague"; one of Sir John Harington's Epigrams will

illustrate this:
"Actaeon guiltless unawares espying
Naked Diana bathing in her bowre
Was plagued with hornes; his dogs did him devoure;
Wherefore take heed, ye that are curious, prying,
With some such forked plague you be not smitten,
And in your foreheads see your faults be written."
— H. N. H.
277. "Desdemona comes"; so Qq.; Ff. read "Looke where she
comes." —L G.
87
 : ; —:

Act III. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Des. Faith, that 's with watching 'twill ; away
again
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
It will be well.
Oth. Your napkin is too little;

[He puts the handkerchief from him; and she

drops it.

Let it alone. Come, I go in with you.

'11

Des. I am very sorry that you are not well.

[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.
Emil. I am glad I have found this napkin: 290
This was her first remembrance from the Moor
Mywayward husband hath a hundred times
Woo'd me to_ steal,it but she so loves the token,
;

For he conjured her she should ever keep it,

That she reserves it evermore about her
To kiss and talk to. I '11 have the work ta'en
out,
And give 't Iago what he
: will do with it

Heaven knows, not I

I nothing but to please his fantasy.
292. "a hundred times"; of course hundred is here used for an in-
definite number; still it shows that the unity of time is much less
observed in this play than some have supposed. The play indeed
seldom gives any note of the lapse of time, save by inference, as in
the case before us. Thus far, only one night, since that of the mar-
riage, has been expressly accounted for; and this was the night when
the nuptials were celebrated, and Cassio cashiered; though several
must have passed during the sea-voyage. From Iago's soliloquy at
the close of Act i., it is clear he had his plot even then so far
matured, that he might often woo his wife to steal the handkerchief
while at sea. Moreover, we may well enough suppose a consider-
able interval of time between the first and third scenes of the pres-
ent Act; since Cassio may not have had the interview with Desde-
mona immediately after he engaged Emilia to solicit it for him.
H. N. H.
88
 ! —

THE MOOR Act III. Sc. iii.

Re-enter I ago.
lago. How now! what do you here alone? 300

Emit. Do not you chide I have a thing for you.

;

Iago. A thing for me? it is a common thing

Emil. Ha!
Iago. To have a foolish wife.
Emil. O, is that all? What will you give me now
For that same handkerchief?
Iago. What handkerchief?
Emil. What handkerchief
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona;
That which so often you did bid me steal.
Iago. Hast stol'n it from her? 310

Emil No ^faith: drop by n egligence,—-

she let it

An d, to the advan tage, I being here took 't up.

Look, here it is.

Iago. A good wench; give it me.

Emil. What will you do with 't, that you have been
so earnest
To have me filch it ?
Iago. [Snatching it] Why, what 's that to you?
Emil. If 't be not for some purpose of import,
Give 't me again poor lady, she '11 run mad
:

When she shall lack it.

Iago. Be not acknown on 't; I have use for it.
Go, leave me. [Exit Emilia. 320
I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
And let him find it. Trifles light as air
Are to the jealous confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ: this may do something.
The Moor already changes with my poison:
325; 383-390; 453-460; iv. 8-10; 195-196. Omitted in Q. 1.—I. G.
 ! ::

Act III. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons,
Which at the first are scarce found to distaste,
But with a little act upon the blood
Burn like the mines of sulphur. I did say so
Look, where he comes

Re-enter Othello.

Not poppy, nor mandragora, 33G

Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou owedst yesterday.
Oth. Ha! ha! false to me?
Iago. Why, how now, general! no more of that.
Oth. Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the
rack:
I swear 'tis better to be much abused
Than but to know 't a little.

Iago. How now, my lord!

Oth. What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust?
I saw 't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me
I slept the next night well, was free and merry;
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips: 341
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n,
Let him not know 't and he 's not robb'd at all.
Iago. I am sorry to hear this.
Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp,
Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. O, now for ever
330. "Look where he comes"; that is, I knew the least touch of such
a passion would not permit the Moor a moment of repose: I have —
just said that jealousy is a restless commotion of the mind; and
look, where Othello approaches, to confirm my observation (Steev-
ens).— H. N. H.
90
 — ! ; !

THE MOOR Act III. Sc. iii.

Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!

Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars
That make ambition virtue! O, farewell, 350
Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill
trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,

The royal banner and all quality,

Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!
And, O
you mortal engines, whose rude throats
The immortal Jove's dread clamors counterfeit,
Farewell Othello's occupation 's gone]
!

Iago. Is 't possible, my lord?

Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore;
Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof 360 ;

Or, by the worth of man's eternal soul,

Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
Than answer my waked wrath
Iago. Is 't come to this?
Oth. Make me to or at the least so prove
see 't ; it,

That the probation bear no hinge nor loop

To hang a doubt on or woe upon thy life ;

Iago. My
noble lord,
Oth. If thou dost slander her and torture me,
Never pray more abandon all remorse
;

On horror's head horrors accumulate; 370

"Farewell the neighing steed"; there is some resemblance be-

351.
tween speech and the following lines in Peek's "Farewell to the
this
Famous and Fortunate Generals of our English Forces" 1589:
"Change love for armes; gyrt to your blades, my boyes;
Your rests and muskets take, take helme and targe,
And let god Mars his trumpet make you mirth,
The roaring cannon, and the brazen trumpe,
The angry-sounding drum, the whistling fife,
—
The shriekes of men, the princelie courser's ney." H. N. H.
 ! :

Act III. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth
amazed;
For nothing canst thou to damnation add
Greater than that.
Iago. O grace! O heaven defend me!
Are you a man? have you a soul or sense?
God be wi' you; take mine office. O wretched
fool,
That livest to make thine honesty a vice
0 monstrous world! Take note, take note, O
world,
Tobe direct and honest is not safe.
1 thank you for this profit, and from hence
I '11 love no friend sith love breeds such offense.
Oth. Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest. 381
Iago. I should be wise; for honesty 's a fool,
And loses that it works for.
Oth. By the world,
I think my wife be honest, and think she is not;
I think that thou art just, and think thou art
not:
I '11 have some proof. Her name, that was as
fresh
As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black
As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives,
Poison, or fire, or suff ocating streams,
I '11 not endure it. Would I were satisfied 390 !

Iago. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion

I do repent me that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied?
Oth. Would! nay, I will.
Iago. And may: but, how? how satisfied, my lord?
92
 : :

THE MOOR Act III. Sc. iii.

Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on?

Behold her topp'd?
Oth. Death and damnation! O!
lago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
To bring them to that prospect: damn them
then,
If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster
More than their own! What then? how then?
What shall I say? Where's satisfaction? 401
It is impossible you should see this,
Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,
If imputation and strong circumstances,
Which lead directly to the door of truth,
Will give you satisfaction, you may have 't.

Oth. Give me a living reason she 's disloyal.

lago. I do not like the office : 410
But sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,
Prick'd to 't by foolish honesty and love,
I wiR; go on. I lay with Cassio lately,
And being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleep.
There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs
One of this kind is Cassio
In sleep I heard him say 'Sweet Desdemona,
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves ;' 420
And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my
hand,
Cry 'O sweet creature!' and then kiss me hard,
406. "circumstances"; indirect, circumstantial evidence.—
C. H. H.
93
 ; —

Act III. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

As if he pluck' d up kisses by the roots,
That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg
Over my thigh, and sigh'd and kiss'd, and then
Cried 'Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!'
Oth. O monstrous! monstrous!
lago. Nay, this was but his dream.
Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion:
'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream. «f

I ago. And this may help to thicken other proofs 430

That do demonstrate thinly.
Oth. I '11 tear her all to pieces.
Iago. Nay, but be wise: yet we see nothing done;
She may be honest yet. Tell me but this;
Have you not sometimes seen 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 such a handkerchief
I am sure it was your wife's —
did I to-day
See Cassio wipe his beard with.
Oth. If it be that —
Iago. If it be that, or any that was hers, 440
It speaks against her with the other proofs.
Oth. O, that the slave had forty thousand lives!
One is too poor, too weak for my revenge.
Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, Iago
All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven:
'Tis gone.
Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell!
435. "Spotted"; embroidered.— C. H. H.
440. "any that teas hers"; Malone's emendation; Qq., "any, it was
hers"; F. 1, "any, it was hers"; Ff. 2, 3, 4, "any, ift was hers";
—
Anon. conj. "any 'it' was hers" I. G.
447. "thy hollow cell"; so Qq.; Ff. read "the hollow hell"; War-
—
burton, "th' unhallow'd cell." I. G.
94
 ! ; —

THE MOOR Act III. Sc. iii.

Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne

To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, 1vith thy
fraught,
For'tis of aspics' tongues

Iago. Yet be content. 450

Oth. O, blood, blood, blood!
Iago. Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may
change.
Oth. Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic sea,
Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
To the Propontic and the Hellespont
Even so 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 yond marble
heaven, 460
In the due reverence of a sacred vow [Kneels.
I here engage my words.
Iago. Do not rise yet. [Kneels.
Witness, you ever-burning lights above,
You elements that clip us round about,
Witness that here Iago doth give up
The execution of his wit, hands, heart,
To wronged Othello's service! Let him com-
mand,
And to obey shall be in me remorse,
What bloody business ever. [They arise.
Steevens compares the following passage in Holland's Pliny:
—456.
"And the sea Pontus ever more floweth and runneth out from
Propontes, but the sea never retireth back again within Pontus."
I. G.
469. "business ever"; Qq., "worke so euer"; Collier, "work soe'er"
—
&c. I. G.
95
 :

Act III. Sc. iv. OTHELLO

Oth. I greet thy love,
Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance
bounteous, 470
And will upon the instant put thee to 't:

Within these three days let me hear thee say

That Cassio 's not alive.
lago. My friend is dead 'tis done at your request
;

But let her live.

Oth. Damn
her, lewd minx! O, damn her!
Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw,
To furnish me with some swift means of death
For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieuten-
ant.
lago. I am your own for ever. [Eooeunt.

Scene IV

Before the castle.

Enter Desdemona, Emilia, and Clown.

Des. Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant
Cassio lies?
Clo. I dare not say he lies any where.
Des. Why, man?
Clo. He 's a soldier; and for one to say a soldier
lies, is stabbing.
Des. Go to: where lodges he?
Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you
where I lie.
Des. Can any thing be made of this? 10

Clo. I know not where he lodges and for ; me to

96
THE MOOR Act III. Sc. iv.

and say he lies her£ or he

devise a lodging,
lies there, lie in mine own throat.
were to
Des. Can you inquire him out and be edified by
report ?
Clo. I will catechize the world for him; that is,

make questions and by them answer.

Des. Seek him, bid him come hither tell him I :

have moved my lord on his behalf and hope

be well.
all will 20
Clo. To do this is within the compass of man's wit,
and therefore I will attempt the doing it.[ Exit.
Des. Where should I lose that handkerchief,
Emilia?
Emit. I know not, madam.
Des. Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse
Full of crusadoes and, but my noble
: Moor
"by them answer"; that is, and by them, when answered, form
17.
my own answer to you. The quaintness of the answer is in character.
— H. N. H.
24. "I know not"; objection has been made to the conduct of
Emilia in this scene, as inconsistent with the spirit she afterwards
shows. We can discover no such inconsistency. Want of principle
and strength of attachment are often thus seen united. Emilia loves
her mistress deeply; but she has no moral repugnance to theft and
falsehood, apprehends no fatal consequences from the Moor's pas-
sion, and has no soul to conceive the agony her mistress must suffer
by the charge of infidelity; and it is but natural, that when the
result comes she should be the more spirited for the very remem-
brance of her own guilty part in the process. It is the seeing of
the end, that rouses such people, and rouses them all the more that
themselves have served as means. "Emilia," says Mrs. Jameson, "is
a perfect portrait from common life, a masterpiece in the Flemish
style: and, though not necessary as a contrast, it cannot be but that
the thorough vulgarity, the loose principles of this plebeian woman,
united to a high spirit, energetic feeling, strong sense, and low
cunning, serve to place in brighter relief the exquisite refinement,
the moral grace, the unblemished truth, and the soft submission of
Desdemona." — H. N. H.
XXV—7 97
 ;

Act III. Sc. iv. OTHELLO

Is true ofmind and made of no such baseness
As jealous creatures are, it were enough
To put him to ill thinking.
Emil. Is he not jealous? 29
Des. Who, he? I think the sun where he was born
Drew all such humors from him.
Emil. Look, where he comes.
Des. I will not leave him now till Cassio
Be call'd to him.

Enter Othello.
How is 't with you, my lord?
Oth. Well, my good lady. [Aside} O, hardness
to dissemble!
How do you, Desdemona?
Des. Well, my good lord.
Oth. Give me your hand: this hand is moist, my
lady.
Des. It yet has felt no age nor known no sorrow.
Oth. This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart:
Hot, hot, and moist this hand of yours requires
:

A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer,

Much castigation, exercise devout; 41
For here 's a young and sweating devil here,
That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand,
A frank one.
Des. You may, indeed, say so;
For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.
Oth. A liberal hand : the hearts of old gave hands
But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.
47. "our new heraldy," {vide Preface). — I. G.

98
 ; ;

THE MOOR Act III. Sc. iv.

Des. I cannot speak of this. Come now, your

promise.
Oth. What promise, chuck?
Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.
Oth. I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me; 51
Lend me thy handkerchief.
Des. Here, my lord.
Oth. That which I gave you.
Des. I have it not about me.
Oth. Not?
Des. No, indeed, my lord.
Oth. That 's a fault.
That handkerchief
Did an Egyptian to my mother give;
She was a charmer, and could almost read
The thoughts of people: she told her, while she
kept it

'Twould make her amiable and subdue my

father
Entirely to her love, but if she lost it 60
Or made a gift of it, my father's eye
Should hold her loathed and his spirits should
hunt
After new fancies: she dying gave it me,
And bid me, when my fate would have me
wife,
To give it her. I did so and take heed on
: 't

Make it a darling like your precious eye

56. —
"an Egyptian" ; probably a gipsy. C. H. H.
63. "fancies"; loves.— C. H. H.
—
65. "her," i. e. to my wife (implied in "wive"). I. G.
In the last scene of the play, Othello speaks of the handkerchief
as "an antique token my father gave my mother." This has been
thought an oversight; Steevens regards it as a fresh proof of the
QQ
 ; !

Act III. Sc. iv. OTHELLO

To lose 't or give 't away were such perdition
As nothing else could match.
Des. Is 't possible ?
J
Oth. Tis true: there 's magic in a web of it: 70
A sibyl, that had number'd in the world
The sun to course two hundred compasses,
In her prophetic fury sew'd the work;
The worms were hallow'd that did breed the
silk
it was dyed in mummy which the skillful
And
Conserved of maidens' hearts.
Des. Indeed! is 't true?
Oth. Most veritable; therefore look to 't well.
Des. Then would to God that I had never seen' t
Oth. Ha! wherefore?
Des. Why do you speak so startingly and rash? 79
Oth. Is 't lost? is 't gone? speak, is it out o' the way?
Des. Heaven bless us!
Oth. Say you?
Des. It is not lost; but what an if it were?
Oth. How!
Des. I say, it is not lost.
Oth. Fetch 't, let me see it.

Poet's art. "The account," says he, "was purposely ostentatious,

first
in order to alarm his wife the more. When he again mentions it,
the truth was sufficient." We
must add a remark from Mrs. Jame-
son: "This handkerchief, in the original story of Cinthio, is merely
one of those embroidered handkerchiefs which were as fashionable
in Shakespeare's time as in our own; but the minute description of
it as 'lavorato alia morisco sottilissimamente,' which in English means

nothing more than that the pattern was what we now call arabesque,
suggested to the poetical fancy of Shakespeare one of the most
exquisite and characteristic passages in the whole play. Othello
makes poor Desdemona believe that the handkerchief was a talis-
man."— H. N. H.
100
 ; — : !
:

THE MOOR Act in. Sc. iv.

A
Des. Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now.
This is a trick to put me from my suit:
Pray you, let Cassio be received again.
Oth. Fetch me the handkerchief my mind mis-
:

gives.
Des. Come, come
You '11 never meet a more sufficient man. 90

Oth. The handkerchief!

Des. I pray, talk me of Cassio.
Oth. The handkerchief!
Des. Aman that all his time
Hath founded his good fortunes on your love,
Shared dangers with you,
Oth. The handkerchief
Des. In sooth, you are to blame.
Oth. Away! [Exit.
Emit. Is not this man jealous?
Des. I ne'er saw this before.
Sure there 's some wonder in this handkerchief
I am most unhappy in the loss of it.
Emil. 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man: 100
They are all but stomachs and we all but food;
They eat us hungerly, and when they are full
They belch us. Look you, Cassio and my hus-
band.

Enter Cassio and lago.

Iago. There no other way 'tis she must do 't
is ;

And, lo, the happiness go and importune her.

!

Des. How now, good Cassio what 's the news with
!

you?
Cas. Madam, my former suit: I beseech you
101
 : ;

Act III. Sc. iv. OTHELLO

That by your virtuous means I may again
Exist, and be a member of his love
Whom I with all the office of my heart HO
Entirely honor I would not be delay' d.
:

If my offense be of such mortal kind,

That nor my service past nor present sorrows
Nor purposed merit in futurity
Can ransom me into his love again,
But to know so must be my benefit
So shall I clothe me in a forced content
And shut myself up in some other course
To fortune's alms.
Des. Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio!
My advocation is not now in tune; 120
My lord is not my lord, nor should I know him
Were he in favor as in humor alter' d.
So help me every spirit sanctified,
As I have spoken for you all my best
And stood within the blank of his displeasure
For my free speech! You must awhile be
patient
What I can do I will and more I will
;

Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you.

Iago. Is my lord angry ?
Emil. He went hence but now,
And certainly in strange unquietness. 130
Iago. Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon,
When it hath blown his ranks into the air,
And, like the devil, from his very arm
118. "shut myself up in" &c, ?. e., "Confine myseif to some other
course of life, awaiting fortune's charity"; Q. 1, "shoote my selfe
up in"; Capell, "shoot myself upon" ; Rann, "shape myself upon";
Collier MS., "shift myself upon"— I. G.
102
 ! :

THE MOOR Act III. Sc. IV

PufF'd his own brother and can he be angry ? ;

Something of moment then I will go meet him :

There 's matter in 't indeed if he be angry.

Des. I prithee, do so. [Exit Iago.
Something sure of state,
Either from Venice some unhatch'd practice
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,
Hath puddled his clear spirit and in such cases ;

Men's natures wrangle with inferior things, 141

Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even
so;
For let our finger ache, and it indues
Our members even to that sense
other healthful
Of pain: nay, we must think men are not gods,
Nor of them look for such observancy
As fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia,
I was, unhandsome warrior as I am,
Arraigning his unkindness with my soul;
But now I find I had suborn' d the witness, 150
And he 's indicted falsely.
Emil. Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think,
And no conception nor no jealous toy
Concerning you.
Des. Alas the day, I never gave him cause
Emil. But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a monster
Begot upon itself, born on itself.
Des. Heaven keep that monster from Othello's
mind! 160

148. "warrior"; Hanmer "wrangler" ; cp. "O my fair warrior";

(II. i. 184). — I. G.
5 F 103
 ;

Act III. Sc. iv. OTHELLO

Emil. Lady, amen.
Des. I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout:
If I do find him fit, I '11 move your suit,
And seek to efT ect it to my uttermost.
Cas. I humbly thank your ladyship.
[Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia.
Enter Bianca.
Bian. Save you, friend Cassio!
Cas. What make you from home?
How is it with you, my most fair Bianca?
I' faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house,
Bian. And I was going to your lodging, Cassio.
What, keep a week away? seven days and
nights? 170
Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent
hours,
More tedious than the dial eight score times?
0 weary reckoning!
Cas. Pardon me, Bianca,
1 have this while with leaden thoughts been
press'd
But I shall in a more continuate time
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bi-
anca,
[Giving her Desdemona s handkerchief.
Take me this work out.
170. "seven days and nights"; it would seem, by this, that seven
days at least have elapsed since Cassio was cashiered; perhaps much
more, as the "leaden thoughts" may have been kept off for some
time by the hopes built upon Desdemona's promise of intercession,
and brought on again by the unexpected delay. See Act iii. sc. 3.
— H. N. H.

104
 ; —:

THE MOOR Act III, Sc. if.

Bian. O
Cassio, whence came this?
This is some token from a newer friend:
To the felt absence now I feel a cause:
Is 't come to this ? Well, well.
Cas. Go to, woman! 180
Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth,
From whence you have them. You are jealous
now
That this is from some mistress, some remem-
brance :

No, by my faith, Bianca.

Bian. Why, whose is it?

Cas. I know not, sweet: I found it in my chamber,

I like the work well: ere it be demanded
—
As like enough it will I 'Id have it copied
Take it, and do 't; rd leave me for this time,
Bian. Leave you! wherefore?
Cas. I do attend here on the general; 190
And think it no addition, nor my wish,
To have him see me woman'd.
Bian. Why,
I pray you?
Cas. Not that I love you not.
Bian. But that you do not love me.
I pray you, bring me on the way a little
And say if I shall see you soon at night,
Cas 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you;
For I attend here but I '11 see you soon.
:

Bian. 'Tis very good I must be circumstanced.

;

[Exeunt
201. "be circumstanced" ; submit to circumstances. —C. H. H,

10*
Act IV. Sc. L OTHELLO

ACT FOURTH
Scene I

Cyprus. Before the castle.

Enter Othello and Iago.

I ago. Will you think so?
Oth. Think so, Iago!
Iago. What,
To kiss in private?
Oth. An unauthorized kiss.
Iago. Or naked with her friend in bed
to be
An hour or more, not meaning any harm.
Oth. Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm!
It ishypocrisy against the devil:
They that mean virtuously and yet do so,
The devil their virtue tempts and they tempt
heaven.
4. "not meaning any harm" ; we must suppose that Iago had been
applying cases of false comfort to Othello; as that, though the
parties had been even found in bed together, there might be no
harm done: it might be only for trial of their virtue; as was reported
of the Romish saint, Robert D'Arbrissel, and his nuns (Warburton).
— H. N. H.
8. The "devil tempts their virtue" by stirring up their passions,
and they tempt heaven by placing themselves in' a situation which
makes it scarcely possible to avoid falling by the gratification of
them. Perhaps the story of St. Adhelm, related in Bale's Actes of
Enghfsh Votaries, is referred to: "This Adhelmus never refused
women, but wold have them commonly both at borde and bedde, to
—
mocke the devyll with." H. N. H.
106
 — — : :

THE MOOR Act. IV. Sc. i.

lago. So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip

But if I give my wife a handkerchief 10 —
Oth. What then?
Iago. Why, then, 'tis hers, my lord and being hers,
;

She may, I think, bestow 't on any man.

Oth. She is protectress of her honor too
May she give that?
Iago. Her honor is an essence that 's not seen;
They have it very oft that have it not:
But for the handkerchief
Oth. By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot
it:

Thou —O, comes my memory,

said'st it o'er 20
As doth the raven the infected house,
o'er
Boding —he had my handkerchief.
to all
Iago. Aye, what of that?
Oth. That 's not so good now.
Iago. What,
If I had said I had seen him do you wrong?
—
Or heard him say as knaves be such abroad,
Who having, by their own importunate suit,
Or voluntary dotage of some mistress,
Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose
But they must blab
Oth. Hath he said anything?
Iago. He hath, my lord but be you well assured,
;

No more than he '11 unswear.

Oth. What hath he said?
—
Iago. Faith, that he did I know not what he did.
28. "convinced or supplied"; that is, having either conquered her
reluctance or complied with her wish. The proper meaning of conn
—
vince is conquer or overcome. H. N. H.

107
 — —
Act IV. Sc. i. OTHELLO
Oth. What, what? 33
I ago. Lie
Oth. With her?
lago. With her, on her what you will.
;

Oth. Lie with her! lie on her! —We

say lie on
her, when they belie her. —
Lie with her!
'Zounds, that's fulsome! Handkerchief
conf essions —
handkerchief —
To confess,
!

and be hanged for his labor; first, to be

hanged, and then to confess. I tremble at 40
it. Nature would not invest herself in such
41. "Nature would not invest"; this passage has called forth a
large fund of critical ingenuity. Dr. Johnson explains it thus:
"There has always prevailed in the world an opinion, that when any
great calamity happens at a distance, notice is given of it to the
sufferer by some dejection or perturbation of mind, of which he
discovers no external cause. This is ascribed to that general com-
munication of one part of the universe with another, which is called
sympathy and antipathy; or to the secret monition, instruction, and
influence of a superior Being, which superintends the order of nature
and of life. Othello says, 'Nature would not invest herself in such
shadowing passion, without some instruction: It is not words that
shake me thus.' This passion, which spreads its clouds over me, is
the effect of some agency more than the operation of words: it is
one of those notices which men have of unseen calamities." The—
explanation given by Sir Joshua Reynolds is, that Othello does not
here refer to any feelings of his own, but to the story of Cassio's
dream, which lago has fabricated and told him; and of which Othello
has already said, "But this denoted a foregone conclusion" ; meaning,
of course, that Cassio's dream was but an involuntary remembrance
and repetition of what he had actually done before. So that the
sense may be given something thus: "Nature would not in Cassio
clothe herself in such shadowing passion, or would not give out
such adumbrations of passion, without some former experience, or
—
the instruction of some foregoing fact." Either of these explana-
tions may be right, and it is not easy to choose between them;
though we rather incline to the latter: for, as Sir Joshua says,
"Othello, in broken sentences and single words, all of which have
a reference to the cause of his jealousy, shows that all the proofs
are present at once to his mind, which so overpower it that he falls
—
into a trance, the natural consequence.— H. N. H.
1Q«
 : !

THE MOOR Act. IV. Sc. i.

shadowing passion without some instruction.

It is not words that shakes me thus. Pish!
Noses, ears and lips. Is 't possible? Con- —
f ess ? —
Handkerchief ? O devil —
[Falls in a trance.
Iago. Work on,
My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are
caught
And many worthy and chaste dames even thus,
All guiltless, meet reproach. What, ho! my
lord!
My lord, I say! Othello!

Enter Cassio.

How now, Cassio !

50
Cas. What's the matter?
Iago. My
lord is fall'n into an epilepsy:
This is his second fit; he had one yesterday.
Cas. Rub him about the temples.
Iago. No, forbear;
The lethargy must have his quiet course:
If not, he foams at mouth, and by and by
Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs:
Do you withdraw yourself a little while,
He will recover straight: when he is gone,
45. "O devil!"; "The
starts," says Warburton, "and broken re-
flections have something in them very terrible, and
in this speech
show the mind of the speaker to be in inexpressible agonies." The —
trance is thus justified by Sir Joshua Reynolds: "When many con-
fused and very interesting ideas pour in upon the mind all at once,
and with such rapidity that it has not time to shape or digest them,
if it does not relieve itself by tears, (which we know it often does,
whether for joy or grief,) t produces stupefaction and fainting."
:
:

— H. N. H.

10§
 — — ;; ;

Act IV. Sc. i. OTHELLO

I would on great occasion speak with you. 60
[Exit Cassio.
How is it, general? have you not hurt your head?
Oth. Dost thou mock me?
Iago, I mock you ! no, by heaven.
Would you would bear your fortune like a man!
Oth. A horned man 's a monster and a beast.
I ago. There 's many a beast then in a populous city,
And many a civil monster.
Oth. Did he confess it?
Iago, Good sir, be a man
Think every bearded fellow that 's but yoked
May draw with you there 's millions now alive
:

That nightly lie in those unproper beds 70

Which they dare swear peculiar: your case is
better.
O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock,
To lip a wanton in a secure couch,
And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know;
And knowing what I am, I know what she shall
be.
Oth, O, thou art wise 'tis certain.
;

Iago, Stand you awhile apart

Confine yourself but in a patient list.
Whilst you were here o'erwhelmed with your
grief
A passion most unsuiting such a man
Cassio came hither; I shifted him away, 80
And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy
70. "improper beds"; that is, beds not their own, not peculiar,
common. —
H. N. H.
78. "here o'erwhelmed"; Q. 1, "here ere while, mad." — I. G.

110
 : ;

THE MOOR Act. IV. Sc. i.

Bade him anon return and here speak with me;

The which he promised. Do but encave your-
self,
And mark the fleers, the gibes and notable
scorns,
That dwell in every region of his face;
For I will make him tell the tale anew,
Where, how, how oft, how long ago and when
He hath and is again to cope your wife
I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience;
Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen, 90
And nothing of a man.
Oth. Dost thou hear, Iago?
I will be found most cunning in my patience;
— —
But dost thou hear? most bloody.
Iago. That 's not amiss
But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw?
[Othello retires.
Now of
will I question Cassio Bianca,
A housewife that by selling her desires
Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a creature
That dotes on Cassio; as 'tis the strumpet's
plague
To beguile many and be beguiled by one.
He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain 100
From the excess of laughter. Here he comes.
Re-enter Cassio.

As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad;

And his unbookish jealousy must construe
Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures and light behav-
ior,
ill
 !

Act IV. Sc. i. OTHELLO

Quite in the wrong. How do you now, lieu-
tenant ?
Cas. The worser that you give me the addition
Whose want even kills me.
lago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on 't.

Now, if this suit lay in Bianca's power,

How quickly should you speed!
Cas. Alas, poor caitiff HO !

Oth. Look, how he laughs already

lago. I never knew a woman love man so.
Cas. Alas, poor rogue! I think, i faith, she loves
me.
Oth. Now he denies it faintly and laughs it out.
lago. Do you hear, Cassio?
Oth. Now he importunes him
To tell it o'er : go to ; well said, well said.
lago. She gives it out that you shall marry her:
Do you intend it?
Cas. Ha, ha, ha! 119
Oth. Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph?
Cas. I marry her what, a customer
! I prithee, !

bear some charity to my wit do not think it ;

so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha!

Oth. So, so, so, so: they laugh that win.
lago. Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry
her.
Cas. Prithee, say true.
lago. I am a very villain else.
Oth. Have you scored me? Well.
106. "addition"; title.— C. H. H.
121. {"What, a customer!")-, ii. 73-76; iii. 60-63, 87-104; omitted
in Q. 1.— I. G.

112
 ! —
THE MOOR Act. IV. Sc. i.

Cas. This is the monkey's own giving out: she

persuaded I will marry her, out of her own 130

is

love and flattery, not out of my promise.

Oth. Iago beckons me; now he begins the
story.
Cas. She was here even now: she haunts me in
every place. I was the other day talking
on the sea-bank with certain Venetians and ;

thither comes the bauble, and, by this hand,

she falls thus about my neck
me
Oth. Crying 'O dear Cassio!' as it were: his
gesture imports it. 140
Cas. So hangs and lolls and weeps upon me so ;

hales and pulls me ha, ha, ha

:

Oth. Now he tells how she plucked him to my

chamber. O, I see that nose of yours, but
not that dog I shall throw it to.
Cas. Well, I must leave her company.
Iago. Before me! look, where she comes.
Cas. 'Tis such another fitchew! marry, a per-
fumed one.

Enter Bianca.
What do you mean by this haunting of me? 150
Bian. Let the devil and his dam haunt you!
What did you mean by that same handker-
chief you gave me even now! I was a fine
fool to take it. I must take out the work?
A likely piece of work, that you should find

137-142. "and, by this hand, she falls me"; so Collier; Q. 1, reads

"by this hand she fals"; Ff., "and folic me"; Qq. 2, 3, "fals me."—
I. G.

XXV-8 lis
Act IV Sc. i. OTHELLO
it inyour chamber, and not know who left
it there! This is some minx's token, and I
must take out the work? There; give it
your hobby-horse: wheresoever you had it,
I '11 take out no work on 't. 160
Cas. How now, my sweet Bianca! how now!
how now!
Oth. By heaven, that should be my handker-
chief !

Bian.An you '11 come to supper to-night, you

may; an you will not, come when you are
next prepared for. [Eocit.
Iago. After her, after her.
Cas. Faith, Imust she '11 rail
; i' the street else.
lago. Will you sup there? 170
Cas. Faith, I intend so.
lago. Well, I may chance to see you; for I
would very fain speak with you.
Cas. Prithee, come; will you?
lago. Go to; say no more. [Exit Cassio.
Oth. [Advancing] How shall I murder him,
iago?
lago. Did you perceive how he laughed at his
vice?
Oth. O lago! 180
lago. And did you see the handkerchief?
Oth. Was that mine ?
lago. Yours, by this hand: and to see how he
prizes the foolish woman your wife! she gave
it him, and he hath given it his whore.

Oth. I would have him nine years a-killing.

114
 ! —
THE MOOR Act. IV. Sc. i.

A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet

woman
Iago. Nay, you must forget that.
Oth. Aye, let her rot, and perish, and be damned 190
to-night; for she shall not live: no, my heart
is turned to stone I strike it, and it hurts my
;

hand. O, the world hath not a sweeter

creature she might lie by an emperor's side,
:

and command him tasks.

Iago. Nay, that 's not your way.
Oth. Hang her! I do but say what she is: so
delicate with her needle an admirable musi-
:

cian O, she will sing the savageness out of a

:

bear of so high and plenteous wit and in- 200

:

vention :

Iago. She 's the worse for all this.

Oth. O, a thousand thousand times: and then,
of so gentle a condition!
Iago. Aye, too gentle.
Oth. Nay, that's certain: but yet the pity of
it, Iago! O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!
Iago. If you are so fond over her iniquity, give
her patent to offend; for, if it touch not
you, it comes near nobody. 210
Oth. I will chop her into messes: cuckold me!
Iago. O, 'tis foul in her.
Oth. With mine officer!
Iago. That 's fouler.
Oth. Get me some poison, Iago; this night.
I '11 not expostulate with her, lest her body
and beauty unprovide my mind again: this
night, Iago.
115
 !

Act IV. Sc. i. OTHELLO

lago. Do it not with poison, strangle her in her
bed, even the bed she hath contaminated. 220
Oth. Good, good: the justice of it pleases: very
good.
Iago. And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker:
you shall hear more by midnight.
Oth. Excellent good. [A trumpet within] What
trumpet is that same ?
Iago. Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodo-
vico
Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is with
him.

Ente?' Lodovico, Desdemona, and Attendants.

Lod. God save the worthy general
Oth. With all my heart, sir.
Lod. The duke and senators of Venice greet you.
[Gives him a letter.
Oth. I kiss the instrument of their pleasures. 230
[Opens the letter, and reads.
Des. And what 's the news, good cousin Lodovico ?
Iago. I amvery glad to see you, signior;
Welcome to Cyprus.
Lod. I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio?
Iago. Lives, sir.
Des. Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my
lord
An unkind breach but you shall make all well.
:

Oth. Are you sure of that?

Des. My
lord?
Oth. [Reads] 'This fail you not to do, as vou
will—' "240
H6
 ! :

THE MOOR Act. IV. Sc. i.

Lod. He did not call busy in the paper.

; he 's

Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio?

Des. Amost unhappy one I would do much :

Toatone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.

Oth. Fire and brimstone
Des. lord? My
Oth. I Are you wise?
Des. What, is he angry?
Lod. May be the letter moved him;
For, as I think, they do command him home, >

Deputing Cassio in his government.

Des. By my troth, I am glad on 't.
Oth. Indeed!
Des. lord? My
Oth. I am glad to see you mad.
Des. Why, sweet Othello? 250
Oth. Devil i [Striking her.
Des. I have not deserved this.
Lod. MyLord, this would not be believed in Ven-
ice,
Though I should swear I saw 't : 'tis very much
Make her amends; she weeps.
Oth. O devil, devil!
If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,

255. "If that the earth could teem"; "if women's tears could im-
pregnate the earth." By the doctrine of equivocal generation new
animals were supposed producible by new combinations of matter.
Shakespeare here alludes to the fabulous accounts which make the
crocodile the most deceitful of animals. "It is written that he will
weep over a man's head when he hath devoured the body, and will then
eat up the head too." Wherefore in Latin there is a proverb, "Croco-
dili lachrymae, crocodiles teares, to signifie such teares as are feigned,
and spent only with intent to deceive or do harm" (Bullokar's Ex-
positor, 1616). — H. N. H.

117
 —
: ! : ;

Act IV. Sc. i. OTHELLO

Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Out of my sight
Des. I will not stay to offend you. [Going.
Lod. Truly, an obedient lady
I do beseech your lordship, call her back.
Oth. Mistress!
Des. Lord? My 260
Oth. What would you with her, sir?
Lod. Who, I, my lord?
Oth. Aye; you did wish that I would make her
turn
Sir, she 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. Proceed you in your tears.
Concerning this, sir, —O well-painted pas-
sion !

I am commanded home. Get you away

I '11 send for you anon. Sir, I obey the man-
date,
And will return to Venice. Hence, avaunt 270 !

[Exit Desdemona.
Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, to-night,
I do entreat that we may sup together:
You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. Goats and
monkeys ! [Exit.
273. "Goats and monkeys"; in this exclamation Shakespeare has
shown great art. Iago in Act iii. sc. 3, being urged to give some
evident proof of the guilt of Cassio and Desdemona, tells the Moor
it were impossible to have ocular demonstration of it, though they

should be as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys. These words, we

may suppose, still ring in the ears of Othello, who, being now fully
convinced of his wife's infidelity, rushes out with this emphatic ex-
clamation. — H. N. H.
118
 !

THE MOOR Act. iv. Sc. i.

Lod. Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate

Call all in all sufficient? This the nature
Whom passion could not shake ? whose solid vir-
tue
The shot of accident nor dart of chance
Could neither graze nor pierce ?
Iago. He is much changed.
Lod. Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?
Iago. He 's that he is I may not breathe my cen-
:

sure 280
What he might be what he might he is not,
: if
I would to heaven he were
Lod. What, strike his wife.
Iago. Faith, that was not so well; yet would I knew
That stroke would prove the worst!
Lod. Is it his use?
Or did the letters work upon his blood,
And new create this fault?
Iago. Alas, alas!
It not honesty in me to speak
is /

What I have seen and known. You shall ob-

serve him
And his own courses will denote him so 289
That I may save my speech: do but go after,
And mark how he continues.
Lod. I am sorry that I am deceived in him.
[Exeunt.
275. "This the nature" Pope's reading; Qq., "This the noble na-
ture"; Ff., "Is this the nature."— I. G.

119
 !

Act IV. Sc. ii. OTHELLO

Scene II

A room in the castle.

Enter Othello and Emilia.
Oth. You have seen nothing, then?
Emil. Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.
Oth. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.
Emil. But then I saw no harm, and then I heard
Each syllable that breath made up between
them.
Oth. What, did they never whisper?
Emil. Never, my lord. 10
Oth. Nor send you out o' the way?
Emil. Never.
Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor
nothing ?
Emil. Never my lord.
Oth. That 's strange.
Emil. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other,
Remove your thought ; it doth abuse your bosom,,
If any wretch have put this in your head,
Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse
For if she be not honest, chaste and true,
There 's no man happy the purest of their wives
;

Is foul as slander.
Oth. Bid her come hither go. [Exit Emilia.
:

She says enough yet she 's a simple bawd

:
20
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle
whore,
120
 ; ; : :

THE MOOR Act IV. Sc. ii

A closet lock and key of villainous secrets

And yet she '11 kneel and pray ; I have seen hei
do 't.

Enter Desdemona with Emilia.

Des. My
lord, what is your will?
Oth. Pray, chuck, come hither.
Des. What is your pleasure?
Oth./ Let me see your eyes;
in my face.
Des. What horrible fancy 's this?
Oth. [To Emilia 1 Some of your function, mistress,
Leave procrtants alone and shut the door;
Cough, or cry hem, if any body come
Your mystery, your mystery: nay, dispatch. 30
[Exit Emilia.
Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech im-
port?
I understand a fury in your words,
But not the words.
Oth. Why, what art thou?
Des. Your wife, my lord your true and loyal wife.
;

Oth. Come, swear it, damn thyself

Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils them-
selves
Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double-
damn'd
Swear thou art honest.
Des. Heaven doth truly know it.
Oth. Heaven truly knows that thou art false as
hell.
27."Some of your function"; something that belongs to vour occu-
pation.—G. H. H.
121
Act IV. Sc. ii. OTHELLO
Des. To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I
false? 40
Oth. O Desdemona! Away! away! away!
Des. 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,
Oth. Had it pleased heaven
To try me with affliction; had they rain'd
All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head,
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips, 50
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes,
I should have found in some place of my soul
A
drop of patience but, alas, to make me
:

A
fixed figure for the time of scorn
To point his slow unmoving finger at!
55. "unmoving finger"; much has been written upon the passage,
and divers changes proposed, such as "hand of scorn," and slowly
moving, most of them originating in a notion that the Poet had some
sort of time-piece in his mind. Probably, not to say certainly, no
such reference was intended. So that all the progeny of that notion
may be set aside. "The time of scorn" means, no doubt, as Knight
says, "the age of scorn," that is, the whole period during which
scorn may be said to live. The "fixed figure" is simply the speaker
himself, and not any figure on a dial-plate. As to "slow-unmoving,"
the sense of it can be better felt than expressed: we can see the
sneer darting from the inexorable finger, ever slowly moving with the
object, never moving from it; but we cannot speak it in any words
but Shakespeare's, as they stand in the text. The best of all the
proposed changes that we have seen, in fact the only one worth en-
tertaining, is Mr. Hunter's, who would transpose for and of, thus:
"A fixed figure of the time for Scorn to point," &c. We will add
Mr. R. G. White's comment on the last line of the passage: "Some
have chosen the reading of the folio, on the ground that if the finger
122
 ! : ;!

THE MOOR Act IV. Sc. ii.

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! 60
Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads -

To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion

there,
young and rose-lipp'd cherubin,
Patience, thou
Aye, there, look grim as hell!
Des. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.
Oth. O, aye as summer flies are in the shambles,
;

That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed,

Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet
That the sense aches at thee, would thou had'st
ne'er been born
Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? 70
Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
Made to write 'whore' upon? What com-
mitted!
Committed! 'O thou public commoner!
make very forges of my cheeks,
I should
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,
of scorn be 'slow,' it must move, and therefore, 'unmoving' is an in-
congruous epithet! But surely the finger of scorn is 'unmoving,'
because it does not move from its object, but points at him fixedly and
relentlessly. To say that a thing is 'slow,' and then to add that it
—
moves, is certainly worthy only of an idiot." H. N. H.
78. "The bawdy wind"; so in The Merchant of Venice: "Hugg'd
—
and embraced by the strumpet wind" H. N. H.

123
 ! : :

Act IV. Sc. ii. OTHELLO

Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
And will not hear it. What committed ! 80
Impudent strumpet!
Des. By heaven, you do me wrong.
Oth. Are not you a strumpet?
Des. 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?
Des. No, as I shall be saved.
Oth. Is 't possible?
Des. O, heaven forgive us!
Oth. I cry you mercy then
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
That married with Othello. [Raising his voice']
You, mistress, 90
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell

Re-enter Emilia.
You, you, aye, you:
We have done our course there 's money for ;

your pains:
I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel.
[Exit.
83. "preserve this vessel"; this expression from Sacred Writ:
is
"To possess his vessel in sanctification." — H. N. H.
91. "office opposite to St. Peter"; that
is, the office opposed to Saint

Peter; alluding, evidently, to "the power of the keys," which was

given to the Apostles generally, and especially to Saint Peter as
representing them. So that the opposition is between Emilia as
keeper of the gate of hell, and Saint Peter as keeper of the gate
of heaven. The sense, therefore, requires that the special emphasis,
if there be any, should be laid on opposite. H. N. H. —
124
 : ;

THE MOOR Act IV. Sc. ii.

Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?

How do you, madam? how do you, my good
lady?
Des. Faith, half asleep.
Emil. Good madam, what's the matter with my
lord?
Des. With who?
Emil. Why, with my lord, madam. 100
Des. Who is thy lord?
Emil. He that is yours, sweet lady.
Des. I have none: do not talk to me, Emilia;
I cannot weep, nor answer have I none
But what should go by water. Prithee, to-
night
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets remember :

And call thy husband hither.

Emil. Here 's a change indeed!
[Exit.
Des. 'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet.
How have I been behaved, that he might stick
The small'st opinion on my least misuse ?
Re-enter Emilia, with Iago.
lago. your pleasure, madam ? How is 't
What is

with you? 110

Des. I cannot tell. Those that do teach young
babes
Do it with gentle means and easy tasks
He might have chid me so; for, in good faith,
I am a child to chiding.
109. "opinion"; suspicion. — C. H. H.
"ieast misuse"; O. 1, "greatest abuse"; Collier MS., "least mis-
deede."— I. G.

125
Act IV. Sc. ii. OTHELLO
lago. What 's the matter., lady?
Emil. Alas, lago, my lord hath so bewhored her,
Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,
As true hearts cannot bear.
Des. Am I that name, lago?
lago. What name, fair lady ?
Des. Such as she says my lord did say I was. 119
Emil. He call'd her whore: a beggar in his drink
Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.
lago. Why did he so?
Des. I do not know I am sure I am none such.
:

lago. Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day!

Emil. Hath she forsook so many noble matches,
Her father and her country and her friends,
To be call'd whore? would it not make one
weep?
Des. It is my wretched fortune.
lago. Beshrew him for 't!
How comes this trick upon him?
Des. Nay, heaven doth know.
Emil. I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain, 130
Some busy and insinuating rogue,
Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
Have not devised this slander; I '11 be hang'd
else.
lago. Fie, there is no such man it is impossible.
;

Des. If any such there be, heaven pardon him!

Emil. A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his
bones ?
Why should he call her whore? who keeps her
company ?

126
 :

THE MOOR Act IV. Sc. ii.

What place? what time? what form? what like-

lihood?
The Moor's abused by some most villainous
knave,
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.
0 heaven, that such companions thou 'ldst un-
fold, 141
And put in every honest hand a whip
To lash the rascals naked through the world
Even from the east to the west!
lago. Speak within door.
Emil. O, fie upon them! Some such was squire he
That turn'd your wit the seamy side without,
And made you to suspect me with the Moor.
Iago. You are a fool go to. ;

Des. O good lago,

What shall I do to win my lord again?
Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of
heaven, 150
1 know not how I lost him. Here I kneel
If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love
Either in discourse of thought or actual deed,
144. "Speak within door"; do not clamor so as to be heard beyond
the house.— H. N. H.
153. "discourse of thought" probably means much the same as
"discourse of reason"; that is, discursive range of thought. See
—
Hamlet, Act i. sc. 2, note 19. The phrase, "discoursing thoughts," is
met with in Sir John Davies' Epigrams. Pope changed "discourse
of thought" to "discourse, or thought," which certainly is more in
accordance with the solemn and impressive particularity of the
speaker's asseveration of innocence. The change has also been ap-
proved as referring to the three forms of sin, "by thought, word,
and deed," specified in the old catechisms and the eucharistical con-
fession of the Church. Nevertheless, we adhere to the text as it
—
stands in all the old copies. H. N. H.

127
 — : :

Act IV. Sc. ii. OTHELLO

Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense.
Delighted them in any other form,
Or that I do not yet, and ever did,
And ever will, though he do shake me off
To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly,
Comfort foreswear me! Unkindness may do
much;
defeat my life,
And his unkindness may 160
But never taint my love.
I cannot say 'whore'
It doth abhor me now I speak the word;
To do the act that might the addition earn
Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.
lago. I pray you, be content 'tis but his humor
;

The business of the state does him offense,

And he does chide with you.
Des. If 'twere no other,
lago. 'Tis but so, I warrant. [Trumpets within.
Hark, how these instruments summon to sup-
per!
The messengers of Venice stay the meat 17°:

Go in, and weep not all things shall be well.

;

{Exeunt Desdemona and Emila.

Enter Roderigo.
How now, Roderigo.
Rod. I do not find that thou dealest justly with
me.
lago. What in the contrary?
"The messengers of Venice stay the meat"; Knighfs reading;
170.
F. "The Messengers of Venice states the meate" ; Ff. 2, 3, 4, "The
1,
Messenger of Venice staies the meate"; Q. 1, "And the great Mes-
sengers of Venice stay"; Qq. 2, 3, "The meate, great Messengers of
Venice stay." — I. G.

128
THE MOOR Act IV. Sc. ii.

Rod. Every day thou daff est me with some de-

vice, Iago and rather, as it seems to me now,
;

keepest from me all conveniency than sup-

pliest mewith the least advantage of hope.
I will indeed no longer endure it nor am 1 180
;

yet persuaded to put up in peace what al-

ready I have foolishly suffered.
Iago. Will you hear me, Roderigo?
Rod. Faith, I have heard too much; for your
words and performances are no kin together.
Iago. You charge me most unjustly.
Rod. With nought but truth. I have wasted
myself out of my means. The jewels you
have had from me to deliver to Desdemona
would half have corrupted a votarist you 190:

have told me she hath received them and re-

turned me expectations and comforts of sud-
den respect and acquaintance; but I find
none.
Iago. Well; go to; very well.
Rod. Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man;
nor 'tis not very well: by this hand, I say
'tis very scurvy, and begin to find myself

fopped in it.

Iago. Very well. 200

Rod. I tell you 'tis not very well. I will make
myself known to Desdemona if she will re-
:

turn me my jewels, I will give over my suit

and repent my unlawful solicitation; if not,
assure yourself I will seek satisfaction of
you.
Iago. You have said now.
XXV-9 m
Act IV. Sc. ii. OTHELLO
Rod. Aye, and said nothing but what I protest
intendment of doing.
Iago. Why, now I see there 's mettle in thee 210
;

and even from do build on thee a

this instant
better opinion than ever before. Give me
thy hand, Roderigo thou hast taken against
:

me a most just exception; but yet, I protest,

I have dealt most directly in thy afF air.
Rod. It hath not appeared.
Iago. I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and
your suspicion is not without wit and judg-
ment. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that in
thee indeed, which I have greater reason to 220
believe now than ever, I mean purpose, cour-
age and valor, this night show it if thou the :

next night following enjoy not Desdemona,

take me from this world with treachery and
devise engines for my life.

Rod. Well, what is it? is it within reason and

compass ?
Iago. Sir, there is especial commission come
from Venice to depute Cassio in Othello's
place.
Rod. Is that true? why
then Othello and Des-230
demona return again to Venice.
Iago. O, no he goes into Mauritania, and takes
;

218. "not without wit and judgment"; Shakespeare knew well that
most men like to be flattered on account of those endowments in
which they are most deficient. Hence Iago's compliment to this
—
snipe on his sagacity and shrewdness (Malone). H. N. H.
232. "he goes into Mauritania" ; this passage proves, so far as any-
thing said by Iago may be believed, that Othello was not meant to
be a Negro, as has been represented, both on the stage and off, but
—
a veritable Moor. His kindred, the Mauritanians, from whose "men
ISO
 :

THE MOOR Act IV. Sc. ii.

away with him the fair Desdemona, unless

his abode be lingered here by some accident
wherein none can be so determinate as the
removing of Cassio.
Rod. How do you mean, removing of himl
la go. Why, by making him uncap able of
Othello's place knocking out his brains.
;

Rod. And that you would have me to do? 240

lago. Aye, if you dare do yourself a profit and
a right. He sups to-night with a harlotry,
and thither will I go to him he knows not yet
:

of his honorable fortune. If you will

watch his going thence, which I will fash-
ion to fall out between twelve and one, you
may take him at your pleasure: I will be
near to second your attempt, and he shall
fall between us. Come, stand not amazed
at it, but go along with me I will show you 250
;

such a necessity in his death that you shall

think yourself bound to put it on him. It is
now high supper-time, and the night growi,
to waste about it.
:

Rod. I will hear further reason for this.

lago. And you shall be satisfied. [Exeunt.
Of royal siege he fetched his life and being," and among whom he
was about to retire,— though apt enough to be confounded with the
Negroes, were as different from them, externally, as brown is from
black; internally, in mind and character, the difference was far
greater. — H.
N. H.
242. "he sups with a harlotry"; Shakespeare has the expression, "a
peevish self-will'd harlotry/' in two other plays— H. N. H.

181
 — : :

Act IV. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Scene III

Another room in the castle.

Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emilia, and

Attendants.

Lod. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no fur-

ther.
'twill do me good to walk.
Oth. O, pardon me;
Lod. Madam, good night; I humbly thank your
ladyship.
Des. Your honor is most welcome.
Oth. Will you walk, sir?
—
O, Desdemona,
Des. My
lord?
Oth. Get you to bed on the instant; I will be
returned forthwith: dismiss your attendant
there look it be done.
:

Des. I will, my lord. 10

[Exeunt Othello, Lodovico, and Attendants.
Emil. How goes it now? he looks gentler than he
did.
Des. He says he will return incontinent
He hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bade me to dismiss you.
Emil. Dismiss me!
Des. It was his bidding; therefore, good Emilia.
Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu
11. "he looks gentler"; one of those side intimations of the fluctua-
tions of passion, which we seldom meet with but in Shakespeare.
He has here put into half a line what some authors would have spun
—
out into ten set speeches (Hazlitt). H. N. H.
132
THE MOOR Act IV. Sc. iii.

We must not now displease him.

Emil. I would you had never seen him!
Des. So would not I my love doth so approve him,
:

That even his stubbornness, his checks, his

frowns, — 20

Prithee, unpin me, —have grace and favor in

them.
Emil. I have laid those sheets you bade me on the
bed.
Des. All 's one. Good faith, how foolish are our
»
minds !

If I do die before thee, prithee, shroud me

In one of those same sheets.
Emil. Come, come, you talk.
Des. My mother had a maid call'd Barbara:
She was in love and he she loved proved mad
;

And did forsake her: she had a song of 'wil-

low ;'
An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
And she died singing it : that song to-night 30
Will not go from my mind I have much to do ;

But to go hang my head all at one side

And sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dis-
patch.
Emil. Shall I go fetch your night-gown ?
Des. No, unpin me here.
This Lodovico is a proper man.
Emil. A
very handsome man.
23. "All's one. Good faith"; Q. 1, "All's one good faith"; Qq. 2, 3,
"All's one; good father"; Ff., "All's one: good Father."— I. G.
26. "Barbara"; Qq. read "Barbary" ; F. 1, "Barbarie." —I. G.
31. "I have much to do"; that is, I have much ado to do any thing,
but to go, &c. To-do was, and still is, often used thus in the sense of
—
ado. H. N. H.
133
 —— ;

Act iv. Sc. iii. OTHELLO

Des. He speaks well.
Emil. I know a lady in Venice would have
walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of
his nether lip. 40

Des. [Singing] The poor soul sat sighing by a

sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow;
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow:
The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd
her moans
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the
stones ;—

Lay by these:

[Singing] Sing willow, willow, willow;

Prithee, hie thee ; he '11 come anon :
— 50

[Singing] Sing all a green willow must be my

garland.
Let nobody blame him; his scorn I ap-
prove,

Nay, that 's not next. Hark who! is 't that

knocks ?
Emil. It 's the wind.
41, &c. ; the original of Desdemona's song is to be found in Percys
Reliques under the title of "A Lover's Complaint, being forsaken of
his Love," where the plaintive lover is a man. I. G. —
41. "sighing"; Ff., "singing"; Q. 3, "singhing"; F. 1, (Dev.) "sirir
ing."—l. G.

1S4
 —
;

THE MOOR Act IV. Sc. iii.

Des. [Singing] I call'd my love false love; but

what said he then ?
Sing willow, willow, willow:
If I court moe women, you '11 couch with moe
men !
60

So get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do

itch
Doth that bode weeping?
Emil. 'Tis neither here nor there.
Des. I have heard it said so. O, these men, these
men!
Dost thou in conscience think, — tell me, Em-
ilia,

That there be women do abuse their husbands

In such gross kind?
Emil. There be some such, no question.
Des. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the
world ?
Emil. Why, would not you?
Des. No, by this heavenly light!
Emil. Nor I neither by this heavenly light; I
might do 't as well i' the dark.
Des. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the
world ? ^
Emil. The world 's a huge thing it is a great :

price
For a small vice.
Des. In troth, I think thou wouldst not.
Emil. In troth, I think I should; and undo 't 71
when I had done. Marry, I would not do
such a thing for a joint-ring, nor for meas-
ures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor
Of 135
Act IV. Sc. iii. OTHELLO
caps, nor any petty exhibition; but, for the
—
whole world, why, who would not make her
husband a cuckold to make him a monarch?
I should venture purgatory for 't.
Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
for the whole world. 80
Emil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i' the
world; and having the world for your la-
bor, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you
might quickly make it right.
Des. I do not think there is any such woman.
Emil. Yes, a dozen and as many to the vantage
;

as would store the world they played for.

But I do think it is their husband's faults
If wives do fall: say that they slack their duties
And pour our treasures into foreign laps, 90
Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
Throwing restraint upon us, or say they strike
us,
Or scant our former having in despite,
Why, we have galls, and though we have some
grace,
Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands
know
Their wives have sense like them: they see and
smell
And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
As husbands have. What is it that they do
When they change us for others? Is it sport?
I think it is: and doth affection breed it? 100
I think it doth: is 't frailty that thus errs?
Tt is so too: and have not we affections,
136
 !

THE MOOR Act IV. Sc. iiu

Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?

Then let them use us well: else let then know,
The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.
Des. Good night, good night heaven me such uses
:

send,
Not to pick bad from bad but by bad mend
[Exeunt*.
 :

Act V. Sc. i. OTHELLO

ACT FIFTH
Scene I

Cyprus. A street.

Enter Iago and Roderigo.

Iago. Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will
he come:
Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home
Quick, quick; fear nothing; I '11 be at thy el-
bow:
It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,
And fix most firm thy resolution.
Rod. Be near at hand; I may miscarry in 't.
Iago. Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy
stand. [Retires.
Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed;
And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons:
'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword he dies. :

Iago. I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the

sense, 11

And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill

Cassio,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Every way makes my gain: live Roderigo,
He calls me to a restitution large
Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd from him,
138
 : !

THE MOOR Act V. Sc.

As gifts to Desdemona:
It must not be if Cassio do remain,
:

He hath a daily beauty in his life

That makes me ugly and besides, the Moor 20;

May unfold me to him; there stand I in much

peril
No, he must die. Be 't so. I hear him coming.
Enter Cassio.

Rod. I know his gait ; 'tis he. Villain, thou diest i

[Makes a pass at Cassio.

Cos. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou know'st:
I will make proof of thine.
[Draws and wounds Roderigo.
Rod. O, I am slain!
[lago from behind wounds Cassio in the leg, and
exit.
Cas. I am maim'd for ever. Help, ho! murder!
murder ! [Falls.

Enter Othello.
Oth. The voice of Cassio: lago keeps his word.
Rod. O, villain that I am!
Oth. even so. It is

Cas. O, help, ho! light! a surgeon! 30

Oth. 'Tis he. O brave lago, honest and just,
That hast such noble sense of thy friend's
wrong
Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead,
And your unblest fate hies: strumpet, I come!
 !

Act V. Sc. i. OTHELLO

Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are
blotted:
Thy bed lust-stain'd shall with lust's blood be
spotted. [Exit.

Enter Lodovico and Gratiano.

Cas. What, ho! no watch? no passage? murder!
murder
Gra. 'Tis some mischance the cry ; is very direful.
Cas. O, help!
Lod. Hark! 40
Rod. O wretched villain!
Lod. Two or three groan: it is a heavy night:
These may be counterfeits: let's think 't un-
safe
To come into the cry without more help.
Rod. Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death.
Lod. Hark!
Re-enter Iago, with a light.

Gra. Here 's one comes in his shirt, with light and
weapons.
I ago. Who 's there ? whose noise is this that cries
on murder?
Lod. We do not know.
Iago. Did you hear a cry? 49
Cas. Here, here! for heaven's sake, help me!
Iago. What 's the matter?
Gra. This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.
Lod. The same indeed; a very valiant fellow.
Iago. What are you here that cry so grievously ?

140
 ! !

THE MOOR Act V. Sc. i.

Cas. Iago.? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains!

Give me some help.
Iago. O me, lieutenant! what villains have done
x
this?
Cas. I think that one of them is hereabout,
And cannot make away.
Iago. O treacherous villains?
What are you there? come in and give some
help. [To Lodovico and Gratiano.
Rod. O, help me here! 60
Cas. That 's one of them.
Iago. O murderous slave ! O villain
[Stabs Roderigo.
Rod. O damn'd Iago ! O inhuman dog
Iago. Kill men i' the dark ! Where be these bloody
thieves ?
How silent is this town! Ho! murder! mur-
der!
What may you be? are you of good or evil?
Lod. As you prove us, praise us.
shall
Iago. Signior Lodovico?
Lod. He, sir.

Iago. I cry you mercy. Here 's Cassio hurt by

villains.
Gra. Cassio! 70
Iago. How is 't, brother?
Cas. My leg is cut in two.
Iago. Marry, heaven forbid!
Light, gentlemen: I '11 bind it with my shirt.

Enter Bianca.
Bian. What is the matter, ho? who is 't that cried?
141
 ! ;

Act V. Sc. i. OTHELLO

lago. Who is that cried!
't

Bian. O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio! O

Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!
lago, O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you sus-
pect
Who they should be that have thus mangled
you?
Cos. No. 80
Gra. I am sorry to find you thus: I have been to
seek you.
lago. Lend mea garter. So. O, for a chair,
To bear him easily hence
Bian. Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!
Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
To be a party in this injury.
Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come;
Lend me a light. Know we this face or no?
Alas, my friend and my dear countryman
—
Roderigo? no: yes, sure: O heaven! Roder-
igo. 90
Gra. What, of Venice?
Iago. Even he, sir: did you know him?
Gra. Know him aye. !

Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon

These bloody accidents must excuse my man-
ners,
Thatso neglected you.
Gra. I am glad to see you.
Iago. How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a chair?
Gra. Roderigo!
82-83; omitted in Q. 1.—I. G.

142
 :

THE MOOR Act V. Sc. i.

Iago. He, he, 'tis he. [A chair brought in.] O,

that 's well said the chair
;

Some good man bear him carefully from hence;

I '11 fetch the general's surgeon. [To Bianco]
For you, mistress, 100
Save you your labor. He that lies slain here,

Cassio,
Was my dear friend: what malice was between
you?
Cas. in the world nor do I know the man.
None ;

I ago. [To Bian.] What, look you pale? O, bear

him out o' the air.
[Cassio and Roderigo are borne off.
Stay you^ good gentleman. Look you pale,
mistress ?
Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?
Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon.
Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her:
Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will
speak,
Though tongues were out of use. 110

Enter Emilia.
Emil. 'Las, what 's the matter ? what 's the matter,
husband?
Iago. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark
By Roderigo, and fellows that are 'scaped:
He 's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.
Emil. Alas good gentlemen! alas, good Cassio!
?

105. "gentlemen," the reading

u
of Ff.; Qq., "Gentlewoman." I. G. —
107. if you stare"; so Ff. Qq. 1, 2, "an you stirre"; Q. 3, "an you
;

stirr"; Anon. conj. "if you stay." I. G. —

143
 : ! !

Act V. Sc. ii. OTHELLO

lago. This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee,
Emilia,
Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night.
What, do you shake at that?
Bian. He supp'd at my house; but I therefore
shake not.
lago. O, did he so? I charge you, go with me. 120
Emit. Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet!
Bian. I am no strumpet but of life as honest
;

As you that thus abuse me.

Emil. As I foh fie upon thee! !

lago. Kind gentlemen, let 's go see poor Cassio

dress'd.
Come, mistress, you must tell 's another tale.
Emilia, run you to the citadel,
And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd!
Will you go on? I pray. [Aside] This is the
night
That either makes me or fordoes me quite.
\Exeunt %

Scene II

A bedchamber in the castle: Desdemona in bed

asleep; a light burning.

Enter Othello.
Oth. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars
11
2. yon, chaste stars"; Steevens informs us there is "no classical
authority" for " chaste stars." Very likely; but then Othello has
"authority" as good, perhaps, as "classical," in the supposed un-
chastity of his wife, which is "the cause" of his present purpose, and
144
 :

THE MOOR Act V. Sc. ii.

It is the cause. Yet I '11 not shed her blood,

Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow
And smooth as monumental alabaster.
Yet she must die, else she '11 betray more men.
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 me but once put out thy light,
:

Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, H

I know not where is that Promethean heat
That can thy light relume. When I have
pluck'd the rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again,
It must needs wither I '11 smell it on the tree.
:

[Kissing her.
which the purity of the stars withholds him from naming in their
—
presence. No classical authority! H. N. H.
7. "Put out the light, and then put out the light"; i. e. "put out

the light, and then put out the light of life." The Cambridge Editors
give some dozen variant methods of punctuating and reading the
line, but it is perfectly clear as it stands. —I. G.

The present regulation of this passage, by which so much beauty

and spirit is added to it, was proposed by Mr. Upton, but it is to be
found in Ayres's Life of Pope; it may therefore have originated
with Warburton, who thus explains it: "The meaning is, I will put
out the light, and then proceed to the execution of my purpose. But
the expression of putting out the light bringing to mind the effects
of the extinction of the light of life, he breaks short, and questions
himself about the effects of this metaphorical extinction, introduced
—
by a repetition of his first words, as much as to say, But hold, let
me first weigh the reflection which this expression naturally excites."
Dr. Farmer treats this as a refinement of Warburton's, observing
that to put Out the light was a phrase for to kill. "Broken sen-
tences," says Mr. Boswell, "are very much in our Poet's manner,
and are surely natural in the perturbed state of Othello's mind.
I am unwilling to persuade myself that a regulation of the text
which contains so much beauty could be merely the refinement of a
critic, and that our great author, in one of his most highly-wrought
—
scenes, instead of it, intended nothing but a cold conceit." H. N. H.
XXV— 10 145
 : ; ! ! ;

Act V. Sc. ii. OTHELLO

Ah, balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice to break her sword! One more, one
more
Be thus when thou and I will kill thee,
art dead,
And love thee after: one more, and this the last:
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, - 20
But they are cruel tears : this sorrow 's

heavenly
It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.
Des. Who's there? Othello?
Oth. Aye, Desdemona.
,

Des. Will you come to bed, my lord?

Oth. Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona?
Des. Aye, my lord.
Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime
Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace,
Solicit for it straight.
Des. Alas, my lord, what may you mean by that?
Oth. Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by: 30
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit
No heaven for fend I would not kill thy soul.
; !

Des. Talk you of killing?

Oth. Aye, I do.
Des. Then heaven have mercy on me
Oth. Amen, with all my heart
Des. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.
Oth. Hum!
Des. And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then
When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I
know not,
Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I
fear.
146
 !

THE MOOR Act V. Sc. ii.

Oth. Think on thy sins.

Des. They are loves I bear to you. 40
Oth. Aye, and for that thou diest.
Des. That death 's unnatural that kills for loving.
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip ?
Some bloody passion shakes your very frame:
These are portents but yet I hope, I hope,
;

They do not point on me.

Oth. Peace, and be still!
Des. I will so. What 's the matter ?
Oth. That handkerchief which I so loved and gave
thee
Thou gavest to Cassio.
Des. No, by my life and soul! 49
Send for the man, arid ask him.
Oth. Sweet soul, take heed,
Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy death-
bed.
Des. Aye, but not yet to die.
Oth. Yes, presently:
Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin;
For to deny each article with oath
Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception
That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.
Des. Then Lord have mercy on me
Oth. I say, amen.
Des. And have you mercy too I never did
!

Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio

But with such general warranty of heaven 60
As I might love I never gave him token.
:

Oth. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in 's hand.

O perjured woman thou dost stone my heart,
!

147
 ! ! — ! : ; ;

Act V. Sc. ii. OTHELLO

And makest me call what I intend to do
A murder, which I thought a sacrifice
I saw the handkerchief.
Des. He found it then;
I never gave it him send for him hither
:

Let him confess a truth.

Oth. He hath confess'd.
Des. What, my lord?
'.

Oth. That he hath used thee.

.

Des. How? unlawfully?

Oth. Aye.
.
70
Des. He will not say so.
'.

Oth. No, his mouth is stopp'd

Honest Iago hath ta'en order for 't.
Des. O, my fear interprets! what, is he dead?
Oth. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
Had stomach for them all.
Des. Alas, he is betray'd, and I undone
Oth. Out, strumpet! weep'st thou for him to my
face?
Des. O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not!
Oth. Down, strumpet
Des. Kill me to-morrow let me ; live to-night ! 80
Oth. Nay, if you strive,
Des. But half an hour
65. "which I thought a sacrifice"; some editors have managed to
stumble at this passage. The language is indeed compressed, but the
meaning seems clear enough. Othello goes about the killing of his
wife as an act of religion, and he fears lest her perjury may excite
his anger, and so corrupt the deed into an act of revenge. This is
Johnson's explanation: "Thou hardenest my heart, and makest me
kill thee with the rage of a murderer, when I thought to have sacri-
ficed thee to justice with the calmness of a priest striking a victim."
—The quarto of 1622 reads, "thou dost stone thy heart."— H. N. H.

148
 ! :

THE MOOR Act V. Sc. ii:

Oth. Being done, there is no pause.

Des. But while I say one prayer!
Oth. It is too late. [He stifles her.

Emil. [Within] My lord, my lord! what, ho! my

lord, my lord
Oth. What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite
dead?
I that am cruel am yet merciful;
I would not have thee linger in thy pain:
So, so.
Emil. [Within] What, ho! my lord, my lord!
Oth. Who's there?
Emil. [Within] O, good my lord, I would speak a
word with you! 90
Oth. Yes 'tis Emilia. By and by.
: She 's dead.
'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death.
The noise was here. Ha! no more moving?
Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were 't

good ?
I think she stirs again. No. What 's best to
do?
If she come in, she '11 sure speak to my wife
My wife my wife what wife ? I have no wife.
! !

82. "there is no pause"; omitted in Q. 1. — I. G.

Othello regards the act as done, when the conflict between his love
and honor is fully over, his resolution finally taken, and his hand
raised to strike. To admit any pause in such a case, were but to
—
prolong the suffering of the victim. H. N. H.
88. "So, so" ; at these words, the Othello of the stage is made to
stab Desdemona. There is no such direction in any of the old copies;
but still the stage-custom may be right; as, in the agony of the
moment, and in his desire "not to have her linger in her pain,"
Othello's resolution not to shed her blood might be overcome. It
seems more natural, too, that Desdemona should speak after being
stabbed, than after being smothered to death. H. N. H. —
149
Act V. Sc. ii. OTHELLO
O, insupportable! O heavy hour!
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration. 100
Emil. [Within] I do beseech you
That I may speak with you, O, good my lord!
Oth. I had forgot thee O, come in, Emilia.
:

Soft; by and by. Let me the curtains draw.

Where art thou ? [Unlocks the door.
Enter Emilia.
What 's the matter with thee now?
Emil. O, my good lord, yonder 's foul murders
done!
Oth. What, now?
Emil. But now, my lord.
Oth. It is the very error of the moon;
She comes more nearer earth than she was wont
And makes men mad. m
Emil. Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian
Call'd Roderigo.
Oth. Roderigo kill'd!
And Cassio kill'd!
Emil. ^ No, Cassio is not kill'd.
Oth. Not Cassio kill'd! then murder 's out of tune,
And sweet revenge grows harsh.
Des. O, falsely, falsely murder'd!
Emil. Alas, what cry is that?
Oth. That! what?
Emil. Out, and alas that was my lady's voice.
!

Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again! 120

100. "yawn"; as if in bewildered wonder. — C. H. H.
150
 ! :

THE MOOR Act V. Sc. fti

Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak!

Des. A
guiltless death I die.

Emil. O, who hath done this deed?

Des. Nobody; I myself. Farewell:
Commend me to my kind lord: O, farewell!
[Die,
Oth. Why, how should she be murder'd?
Emil. Alas, who knows?
Oth. You heard her say herself, It was not I.
Emil. She said so I must needs report the truth.
:

Oth. She 's like a liar gone to burning hell:

'Twas I that kill'd her.
Emil. O, the more angel she, 130
And you the blacker devil
Oth. She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore.
Emil. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.
Oth. She was false as water.
Emil. Thou art rash as fire, to say
That she was false: O, she was heavenly true!
Oth. Cassio did top her ask thy husband else.
;

O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,

But that I did proceed upon just grounds
To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.
Emil. My husband!
Oth. Thy husband. 140
Emil. That she was false to wedlock?
Oth. Aye, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true,
If heaven would make me such another world
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,
I 'Id not have sold her for it.
Emil. My husband!
Oth. Aye, 'twas he that told me first
151

N
 ! ! ! ! — ;

Act V. Sc. ii. OTHELLO

An honest man he is, and hates the slime
That sticks on filthy deeds.
Emil. My husband!
Oth. What needs this iteration, woman? I sav thy
husband. 150
Emil. O mistress, villainy hath made mocks with
love
My husband say that she was false
Oth. He, woman
I say thy husband: dost understand the word?
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.
Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious soul
Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart:
She was too fond of her most filthv bargain.
Oth. Ha!
Emil. Do thy worst:
This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven 160
Than thou wast worthy her.
Oth. Peace, you were best.
Emil. Thou hast not half that power to do me harm
As I have to be hurt. O gull O dolt !

As ignorant as dirt thou hast done a deed !

I care not for thy sword; I '11 make thee known,

Though I lost twenty lives. Help! help, ho!
help!
The Moot hath kill'd my mistress! Murder!
murder

Enter Montana, Gratiano, Iago, and others.

31 on. What is the matter? How now, general!

151. "made mocks icifh lore"; "taken advantage to plar upon the
weakness of passion*' (Johnson). — I. G.
152
 : — : !

THE MOOR Act V. Sc. ii.

Emil. O, are you come, lago? you have done well,

That men must lay their murders on your neck,
r Gra. What is the matter? 17]

Emil. Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man

He says thou toldst him that his wife was false:
I know thou didst not, thou 'rt not such a villain.
Speak, for my heart is full.
lago. I told him what I thought, and told no more
Than what he found himself was apt and true.
Emil. But did you ever tell him she was false?
lago. I did.
Emil. You told a lie, an odious, damned lie; 180
Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie!
She false with Cassio! Did you say with
Cassio?
lago. With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your
tongue.
Emil. I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to
speak
My mistress here lies murder' d in her bed,
All. O heavens forfend!
Emil. And your reports have set the murder on.
Oth. Nay, stare not, masters it is true indeed. :

J
Gra. Tis a strange truth.
Mon. O monstrous act!
Emil. Villainy, villainy, villainy 190 !

I think upon 't I think I smell 't O villainy

: : :

I thought so then: I '11 kill myself for grief:

O villainy, villainy!
172. "Disprove this villain"; Capell, "Disprove it, villain.'* — I. G.
185, 193; omitted in Q. 1.— I. G.
192. "I thought so then"; that is, when she gave Desdemona's hand-
kerchief to lago: for even then Emilia appears to have suspected it
was sough' after for no honest purpose. H. N. H. —
 ;
:

Act V. Sc. ii. OTHELLO

lago. What, are you mad? I charge you, get you
home.
Emil. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak
'Tis proper I obey him, but not now.
Perchance, lago, I will ne'er go home.
Oth. O! O! O! [Falling on the bed.
Emil. Nay, lay thee down and roar
For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent
That e'er did lift up eye.
Oth. [Rising'] O, she was foul! 200
I scarce did know you, uncle: there lies your
niece,
Whose breath indeed these hands have newly
stopp'd:
I know this act shows horrible and grim.
Gra. Poor Desdemona I am glad thy father 's
!

dead:
Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief
Shore his old thread in twain did he live now, :

This sight would make him do a desperate turn,

Yea, curse his better angel from his side,
And fall to reprobation.
Oth. 'Tis pitiful; but yet lago knows 210
That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
A
thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd
it:

212. "thousand times" is evidently put for an indefinite number,

or, as Steevens remarks, "an aggravated term for many times."
Still the expression infers a good deal as to the space of time oc-
cupied by the play. We
have already seen that a considerable period
must have elapsed after the arrival in Cyprus before the end of Act
iii. Near the close of the third scene in Act iii., the Moor says to
lago, —"Within these three days let me hear thee say, that Cassio's
not alive." We may presume this period to have elapsed between
154
 ! ! !

THE MOOR Act V. Sc. ii.

And she did gratify his amorous works

With that recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand:
Itwas a handkerchif, an antique token
My father gave my mother.
Emit. O heaven! O heavenly powers
lago. 'Zounds hold your peace.
!

Emit, 'Twill out, 'twill out. I peace!

No, I will speak as liberal as the north 220 :

Let heaven and men and devils, let them all,

All, all, cry shame against me, yet I '11 speak.
lago. Be wise, and get you home.
Emil. I will not.
[i ago offers to stab Emilia.
Gra. , Fie!
Your sword upon a woman
Emil. O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou
speak'st of
I found by fortune and did give my husband;
For often with a solemn earnestness,
More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle,
He begg'd of me to steal it.
Iago. Villainous whore
Emil. She give it Cassio! no, alas, I found it, 230
And I did give 't my husband.
Act iii. and Act v. It is not unlikely that Othello may suppose the
wickedness between his wife and Cassio to have been in progress
before his marriage, when Cassio "came a-wooing with him." This,
of course, would greatly aggravate her otfense in his eye, by causing
the marriage to seem designed on her part but as a cover for her
guilty indulgence. The play may be cited as a very remarkable
instance of unity of interest making us irrespective of time; for
until one goes into a critical scrutinizing of the scenes for that pur-
pose, he never thinks but that the catastrophe occurs on the second
—
night after the landing in Cyprus. H. N. H.
155
 !

Act V. Sc. ii. OTHELLO

Iago. Filth, thou liest
Emil. By
heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen.
O murderous coxcomb! what should such a fool
Do with so good a wife?
Oth. Are there no stones in heaven
But what serve for the thunder? Precious vil-
lain!

[He runs at Iago : Iago, from behind , stabs

Emilia and exit.
Gra. The woman falls; sure, he hath khTd his wife.
Emil. Aye, aye: O, lay me by my mistress' side.
Gra. He s gone, but his wife 's khTd.
Mon. 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this
weapon,
Which I have here recover'd from the Moor: 240
Gome, guard the door without let him not pass,;

But kill him rather. I '11 after that same villain,

For 'tis a damned slave.
[Exeunt all but Othello and Emilia.
Oth. I am not valiant neither,
But every puny whipster gets my sword.
But why should honor outlive honesty ?
Let it go all.

Emil. What did thy song bode, lady?

Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the
swan,
235. "no stones in heaven"; that is, "no bolts but what serve for the
thunder." We have before had "thunder-^one" for thunder-6o/£.
—
See Cymbeline, Act iv. sc. 2. H. N. H.
239. "notorious villain" ; strictly speaking, Iago was not a notorious
villain, as his villainy had not been known. Probably the meaning
is, worthy to be notorious. —
See Act iv. sc. 2. H. N. H.

156
 — ;!

THE MOOE Act V. Sc.

And die in music. [Singing] Willow, willow,

willow.
Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel
Moor;
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true; 250
So speaking as I think, I die, I die. [Dies.
Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber;
It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook'st temper.
O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth.
Gra. [Within] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee
dear:
Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.
Oth. Look in upon me then, and speak with me,
Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.

Re-enter Gratiano

Gra. What is the matter?

Oth. Behold, I have a weapon
A better never did itself sustain 260
Upon a soldier's thigh I have seen the day
:

That with this little arm and

good sword this
I have made my way through more impediments
Than twenty times your stop but, O vain boast
:

Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now.

Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt
And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
Do you go back dismay 'd? 'tis a lost fear:
Man but a rush against Othello's breast, 270
And he retires. Where should Othello go?
266-272; omitted in Q. 1.— I. G.

157
 ! ! ;

Act V. Sc. ii. OTHELLO

Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd
wench
Pale as thy smock when we shall meet at compt,
!

This look of thine will hurl my soul from

heaven,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my
girl!
Even thy chastity. O cursed slave!
like
Whip me, ye devils,
From the possession of this heavenly sight
Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur!
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! 280
O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead!
Oh! Oh! Oh!
Enter Lodovico, Montana, Cassio carried in a chair,
and Officers with I ago, prisoner.
Lod. Where is this rash and most unfortunate
man?
Oth. That he that was Othello: here I am.
's

Lod. Where is that viper? bring the^illain forth.

Oth. I look down towards his feet but that 's a ;

fable.
If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee.
[Wounds lago.
Lod. Wrench his sword from him.
lago. I bleed, sir, but not kill'd.
Oth. I am not sorry neither I 'Id have thee live :

For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die. 290

286. "I look down towards his feel"; alluding to the devil's cloven
feet. Othello looksdown towards Iago's feet, to see if he has that
sign of being a devil, but then concludes that he may be just as
much a devil without it. H. N. H.—
158
 /
THE MOOR Act V. Sc. ii.

Lod. Othou Othello, that wert once so good,

Fall'n in the practice of a damned slave,
What shall be said to thee?
Oth. Why, any thing:
An honorable murderer, if vou will ;

For nought did I in hate, but all in honor.

Lod. This wretch hath part confess'd his villainy:
Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?
Oth. Aye. /

Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause.

Oth. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. 300
Will fou, I pray, demand that demi-devil
Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body?
lago. Demand me nothing; what you know, you
know:
From this time forth I never will speak word.
Lod. What, not to pray?
Gra. Torments will ope your lips.
Oth. Well, thou dost best.
Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n,
Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a
letter
Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo,
And here another the one of them imports 310
:

The death of Cassio to be undertook

By Roderigo.
Oth. O villain!
Cas. Most heathenish and most gross!
Lod. Now here another discontented paper,
's

Found in his pocket too and this, it seems,

;

Roderigo meant to have sent this damned vil-

lain ;
159
Act V. Sc. ii. OTHELLO
But that, belike, Iago in the interim
Came in and satisfied him.
Oth. O the pernicious caitiff!
How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
That was my wife's?
Cas. I found it in my chamber: 320
And he himself confess'd but even now
That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose
Which wrought to his desire.
Oth. O fool! fool! fool!
Cas. There is besides in Roderigo's letter,
How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
Brave me upon the watch whereon it came ;

That I was cast and even but now he spake

:

After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him,

Iago set him on.
Lod. You must forsake this room, and go with us:
Your power and your command is taken off, 331
And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,
If there be any cunning cruelty
That can torment him much and hold him long,
It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest,
Till that the nature of your f ault be known
To the Venetian state. Come, bring away.
Oth. Soft you; a word or two before you go.
I have done the state some service, and they
know 't.

No more of that. I pray you, in your letters,

When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, 341
Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
337. "bring away"; Qq., "bring him away"; Collier MS., "bring
them away" — I. G.
160
 ! !

/
THE MOOR Act V. Sc. ii.

Nor set down aught in malice: then must you

speak
Of one that loved not wisely but too well;
Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand,
Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away
Richer than all his tribe of one whose subdued
;

eyes,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees 350
Their medicinal gum. Set you down this;
And say besides, that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
Beat a Venetian and traduced the state,
I took by the throat the circumcised dog
And smote him, thus. [Stabs himself.
Lod. O bloody period
Gra. All that 's spoke is marr'd.
Oth. I kiss'd thee ere I khTd thee no : way but this,
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.
[Falls on the bed, and dies.

347. "Indian"; F. 1, "Iudean"; Theobald proposed "Judian," add-

ing, "I am satisfied in his Judian he is alluding to Herod, who, in a
fit of blind threw away such a jewel of a wife as Mariamne
jealosie.
was This interpretation was Warburton's. "This it is," as
to him."
Coleridge put it, "for no-poets to comment on the greatest of poets
To make Othello say that he, who had killed his wife, was like Herod
who had killed Mariamne!" Boswell aptly quotes from Habington's
Cas tar a:—
"So the unskilful Indian those bright gems
Which might add majesty to diadems,
'Mong the waves scatters/' —
I. G.

"Arabian trees"; the acacia Arabica. C. H. H.

350. —
352. "in Aleppo once"; it is said to have been immediate death
for a Christian to strike a Turk in Aleppo. H. N. H. —
XXV— 11 161
Ac: V. Sc. ii. OTHELLO
Cas. This did I fear, but thought he had no
weapon ; 360
For he was great of heart.
Lod. [To I ago] O Spartan dog,
More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
Look on the tragic loading of this bed;
This thy work: the object poisons sight;
is

Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,

And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor
For they succeed on you. To you, lord gov-
ernor,
Remains the censure of this hellish villain,
The time, the place, the torture: O, enforce it!
Myself will straight aboard, and to the state 370
This heavy act with heavy heart relate.
[Exeunt,

169
 GLOSSARY
By Israel Golxancz, M.A.

Abhor; "it doth a. me," it is ab- Anthropophagi, cannibals; (Qq.,

horrent to me; IV, ii. 162. "Anthropophagie" F. 1, "An- ;

About, out; I. ii. 46. tropophague") I. iii. 144.;

Abuse, deceive; I. iii. 407. Antres, caverns; I. iii. 140.

Abused, deceived; I. i. 175. Apart, aside; II. iii. 400.
Abuser, corrupter; I. ii. 78. Approve, prove, justify; II. iii.
Achieved, won; II. i. 61. 65.
Acknown non't, confess any , love, adore; IV. iii. 19.

knowledge of it; III. iii. 319. Approved, proved to have been

Act, action, working; III. iii. involved; II. iii. 214.
338. Apt, natural; II. i. 304.
Action, accusation; I. iii. 70. Arraigning, accusing; III. iv.
Addiction, inclination; II. ii. 7. 149.
Addition, honor; III. iv. 191. Arrivance, arrival; (Ff., "Ar-
Advantage; "in the best a.", at rivancy" or "Arrivancie") ; II.
the most favorable opportu- i. 42.
nity; I. iii. 299. As, as if; III. iii. 77.
Advised, careful; I. ii. 55. Aspics, venomous snakes; III. iii.

Advocation, advocacy; III. iv. 450.

120. Assay, a test; I. iii. 18.
Affined, bound by any tie; I. i. Assay, try; II. i. 121.
39. Assure thee, be assured; III. iii.

Affinity, connections; III. i. 49. 20.

Agnize, confess with pride; I. iii. At, on; I. ii. 42.
233. Atone, reconcile; IV. i. 244.
Aim, conjecture; I. iii. 6. Attach, arrest; I. ii. 77.
All in all, wholly, altogether; Attend, await; III. iii. 281.
IV. i. 90.
Allowance; "and your a.," and Bauble, fool, (used contemptu-
has your permission; I. i. 129. ously); IV. i. 139.
Allowed, acknowledged; I. iii. Bear, the Constellation so called;
225. II. i. 14.
All's one, very well; IV. iii. 23. Bear out, get the better of; II.
Almain, German; II. iii. 87. i. 19.
Ancient, ensign; (F. 1, "Aun- Beer; "small beer," small ac-
tieni")\ I. i. 33. counts, trifles; II. i. 163.
163
Glossary OTHELLO
Be-lee'd, placed on the lee; (Q. Cable; "give him c", give him
I. "be led") ; L i. 30. scope; I. ii. 17.
Beshrew me, a mild assevera- Caitiff, thing, wretch; a term
tion; III. iv. 147. of endearment; IV. i. 110.
Besort, what is becoming; L iii. Callet, a low woman; IV. ii. 121.
240. CaEm'd, becalmed, kept from mo-
Best; "were b.", had better; I. tion; I. i. 30.
ii. 30. Canakin, little can; II. iii. 72.
Bestow, place; III. i. 57. Capable, ample; III. iii. 459-
Betimes, early; I. iii. 3S9. Carack, large ship, galleon; I. ii.

Bid "good morrow," alluding to 50.

the custom of friends bidding Caroused, drunk; II. iii. 56.
good morrow by serenading a Carve for, indulge (Q. 1, ;

newly married couple on the "carve forth") ; II. iii. 176.

morning after their marriage; Case, matter; (Ff., "cause");
III. i. 2. III. iii. 4.
Birdlime, lime to catch birds; Cast, dismissed, degraded from
II. i. 127. office;V. ii. 327.
Black, opposed to "fair"; III. Censut.e, judgment; II. iii. 196.
iii. 263. , opinion; IV. i. 280.
Blank, the white mark in the Certes, certainly; I. i. 16.
center of the butt, the aim; Challenge, claim; I. iii. 188.
III. iv. 125. Chamberers, effeminate men;
Blazoning, praising; II. i. 63. III. iii. 265.
Blood, anger, passion; II. iii. 208. Chances, events; I. iii. 134.
Blown, empty, puffed out; III. Charm, make silent, restrain; V.
iii. 182. ii. 183.
Bobb'd, got cunningly; V. i. 16. Charmer, enchantress, sorceress;
Boding, foreboding, ominous; IV. III. iv. 57.
i. 22. Cherubin, cherub; IV. ii. 62.
Bootless, profitless; L iii. 209. Chidden, chiding, making an in-
Brace, state of defense; (prop- cessant noise; II. i. 12.
erly, armor to protect the Chide, quarrel; IV. ii. 167.
arm) ; I. iii. 24. Chuck, a term of endearment;
Brave, defy; V. ii. 326. III. iv. 49.
Bravery, bravado, defiance; I. i. Circumscription, restraint; I. ii.

100. 27.
Bring on the way, accompany; Circumstance, circumlocution; I.

III. iv. 194. i. 13.

Bulk, the projecting part of a , appurtenances; III. iii. 354.

shop on which goods were ex- Circumstanced, give way to cir-

posed for sale; V. i. 1. cumstances; III. iv. 198.
Butt, goal, limit; V. ii. 267. Civtl, civilized; IV. i. 66.
By, aside; V. ii. 30. Clean, entirely, altogether; I. iii
"how you say by," what
, 371.
say you to; I. iii. 17. Clime, country; III. iii. 230.
3y and by, presently; II, iii. 316. Clip, embrace: J II. iii. 464.
1
 ; ;;

THE MOOR Glossary

Clog, encumber; (Ff. 1, 2, 3, "en- Consuls, senators ; (Theobald,

clogge") ; II. i. 70. "Couns'lers" ; Hanmer, "coun-
Close, secret; III. iii. 123. sel") ; I. ii. 43.
"Close as oAK"="close as the Content, joy; II. i. 188.
grain of oak"; III. iii. 210. , satisfy, reward; III. i. 1.
Clyster-pipes, tubes used for in- Content you, be satisfied, be
jection; II. i. 181. easy; I. i. 41.
Coat, coat of mail; V. i. 25. Continuate, continual, uninter-
Cogging, deceiving by lying; IV. rupted; (Q. 1, "conuenient") ;

ii. 132. III. iv. 175.

Collied, blackened, darkened; II. Contrived, plotted, deliberate; I.

iii. 209. ii. 3.

Coloquiktida, colocynth, or bit- Conveniences, comforts; II. i.

ter apple; I. iii. 359. 240.

Commoner, harlot; IV. ii. 72. Converse, conversation; III. i. 40.
Companions, fellows; (used con- Cope, meet; IV. i. 88.
temptuously); IV. ii. 141. Corrigible, corrective; I. iii. 330.
Compasses, annual circuits; III. Counselor, prater; (Theobald,
iv. 71. "censurer") ; II. i. 167.
Compliment extern, external C o u n t e r-caster, accountant
show; I. i. 63. (used contemptuously) ; 1. i.

Composition, consistency; I. iii. 31.

1. Course, proceeding; (Q. 1,

Compt, reckoning, day of reck- "cause") ; II. i. 284.

oning; V. ii. 273. , run; (Q. 1, "make") ; III.
Conceit, idea; thought; (Q. 1, iv. 71.
"counsell") ; III. iii. 115. Court and guard of safety,
Conceits, conceives, judges; III. "very spot and guarding place
iii. 149. of safety"; (Theobald, "court
Condition, temper, disposition of guard and safety") ; II. iii.

II. i. 262. 219.

Confine, limit; I. ii. 27. Court of guard, the main guard-
Conjunctive, closely united; (Q. house; II. i. 223.
1, " communicatee" ; Q. 2, "con- Courtship, civility, elegance of
jectiue") ; I. iii. 380. manners; (Q. 1, "courtesies")
Conjured, charmed by incanta- II. i. 174.
tions; I. iii. 105. Coxcomb, fool; V. ii. 233.
Conscionable, conscientious ; II. Cozening, cheating; IV. ii

i. 248. 132.
Consent in, plan together; V. ii. Crack, breach; II. iii. 338.
297. Creation, nature; II. i. 64.
Consequence, that which follows Cries on, cries out; (Ff. 2, 3, 4,
or results; II. iii. 65. "cries out") ; V. i. 48.
Conserved, preserved ; (Q. 1, Critical, censorious; II. i. 120.
" conserues" ; Q. 2, "concerue") ; Crusadoes, Portuguese gold coins
III iv. 75. so called from the cross on
li
Glossary OTHELLO
them (worth between six and Diablo, the Devil; II. iii. 164.
seven shillings); III. iv. 26. Diet, feed; II. i. 311.
Cry, pack of hounds; II. iii. 379. Dilate, relate in detail, at
Cunning, knowledge; III. iii. 49. length; I. iii. 153.
Curled, having hair formed into Directly, in a direct straight-
ringlets, hence, affected, fop- forward way; IV. ii. 215.
pish; I. ii. 68. Discontented, full of dissatis-
Customer, harlot; IV. i. 121. faction; V. ii. 314.
Discourse of thought, faculty
Daffest, dost put off; (Collier, of thinking, range of thought;
"daff'st"; Qq., "dofftst"; F. 1, IV. ii. 153.
"dafts"); IV. ii. 175. Dislikes, displeases; II. iii. 50.
Danger; "hurt to danger," dan- Displeasuue "your d.", the dis-
;

gerously hurt, wounded; II. iii. favor you have incurred; III.
200. i. 45.
Darlings, favorites; I. ii. 68. Disports, sports, pastimes; i. iii.

Daws, jack-daws; I. i. 65. 273.

Dear, deeply felt; I. iii. 261. Dispose, disposition; I. iii. 409.
Dearest, most zealous; I. iii. 85. Disprove, refute; V. ii. 172.
Debitor and creditor, "the title Disputed on, argued, investi-
of certain ancient treatises on gated; I. ii. 75.
bookkeeping; here used as a Distaste, be distasteful; III. iii.

nick-name" (Clarke) I. i. 31. ; 327.

Defeat, destroy; IV. ii. 160. Division, arrangement; I. i. 23.
, disfigure; I. iii. 348. Do, act; I. iii. 402.
Defend, forbid; I. iii. 268. Dotage, affection for; IV. i. 27.
Delations, accusations; III. iii. Double, of two- fold influence; I.

123. ii. 14.

Delighted, delightful; I. iii. 291. Double set, go twice round ; II.
Deliver, say, relate; II. iii. 222. iii. 138.
Demand, ask; V. ii. 301. Doubt, suspicion; III. iii. 188.
Demerits, merits; I. ii. 22. , fear; III. iii. 19.
Demonstrable; "made d.", dem- Dream, expectation, anticipation;
onstrated, revealed; III. iv. 139. II. iii. 65.
Denotement, denoting; II. iii.

329. Ecstasy, swoon; IV. i. 81.

Deputing, substituting; IV. i. Elements, a pure extract, the
248. quintessence; II. iii. 60.
Designment, design; II. i. 22. Embay'd, land-locked; II. i. 18.
Desired; "well d.", well loved, a Encave, hide, conceal; IV. i. 83.
favorite; II. i. 209. Enciiafed, chafed, angry; II. i.

Despite, contempt, aversion; IV. 17.

ii. 116. Engage, pledge; III. iii. 462.
Determinate, decisive; IV. ii. Engines, devices, contrivances,;
235. (?) instruments of torture; I\.
Devesting, divesting; II. iii. 184. ii. 225.
 ; ;

THE MOOR Glossary

Engluts, engulfs, swallows up; I. Facile, easy; I. iii. 22.

iii. 57. Falls, lets fall; IV. i. 256.
Enshelter'd, sheltered; II. i. 18. Fantasy, fancy; III. iii. 299.
Ensteep'd, steeped, lying con- Fashion, conventional custom;
cealed under water; (Q. 1, "en- II. i. 211.
scerped") ; II. i. 70. Fast, faithfully devoted; I. iii.

Entertainment, re-engagement 374.

in the service; III. iii. 250. Fathom, reach, capacity; I. i.

Enwheel, encompass, surround; 154.

II. i. 87. Favor, countenance, appearance:
Equinox, counterpart; II. iii. III. iv. 122.
132. Fearful, full of fear; I. iii. 12.
Erring, wandering; III. iii. Fell, cruel; V. ii. 362.
227. Filches, pilfers, steals; III. iii.

Error, deviation, irregularity 159.

V. ii. 109. Filth, used contemptuously; V.
Escape, escapade, wanton freak; ii. 231.
I. iii. 197. Fineless, without limit, bound-
Essential, real; II. i. 64. less; III. iii. 173.
Estimation, reputation; I. iii. Fitchew, pole-cat; (used con-
276. temptuously) ; IV. i. 149.
Eternal, damned (used to ex- Fits, befits; III. iv. 147.
press abhorrence) ; IV. ii. 130. Fleers, sneers; IV. i. 84.
Ever-fixed, fixed for ever; (Qq., Flood, sea; I. iii. 135.
"ever-fired") ; II. i. 15. Flood-gate, rushing, impetuous
Execute, to wreak anger; II. iii. I. iii. 56.
231. Folly, unchastity; V. ii. 132.
Execution, working; III. iii. Fond, foolish; I. iii. 321.
...66. Fopped, befooled, duped; IV. ii.

Exercise, religious exercise; III. 199.

iv. 41. For, because; (Ff., "when"); I.
Exhibition, allowance; I. iii. 239. iii. 270.
Expert, experienced; II. iii. 84. Forbear, spare; I. ii. 10.
Expert and approved allowance, Fordoes, destroys; V. i. 129.
acknowledged and proved abil- Forfend, forbid; V. ii. 32.
ity; II. i. 49. Forgot; "are thus f.", have so
Exsufflicate, inflated, unsub- forgotten yourself; II. iii. 191.
stantial; (Qq., Ff. 1, 2, 3, "ex- Forms and visages, external
ufflicate" ; F. 4, "exufflicated") ; show, outward appearance; I.

III. iii. 182. i. 50.

Extern, external; I. i. 63. Forth of, forth from, out of;
Extincted, extinct; (Ff. 3, 4, (F. "For of"; Ff.
1, 2, 3, 4,
"extinctest" Rowe, "extin-
; "For off") V. i. 35. ;

guish'd"); II. i. 81. Fortitude, strength; I. iii. 222.

Extravagant, vagrant, wander- Fortune, chance, accident; V. ii.

ing; I. i. 138. 226.

7 f 1
Glossary OTHELLO
Framed, moulded, formed; I. iii. Gyve, fetter, ensnare; II. i. 173.
410.
Fbaught, freight, burden; III. Habits, appearances, outward
iii. 449. show; I. iii. 108.
Free, innocent, free from guilt; Haggard, an untrained wild
III. iii. 255. hawk; III. iii. 260.
, liberal; I. iii. 267. Hales, hauls, draws; IV. i. 142.
Frights, terrifies; II. iii. 178. Haply, perhaps; II. i. 288.
Frize, a kind of coarse woolen Happ'd, happened, occurred; V.
stuff; II. i. 127. i. 127.
From, contrary to; I. i. 133. Happiness, good luck; III. iv.
Fruitful, generous; II. iii. 355. 108.
Full, perfect; II. i. 36. Happy; "in h. time," at the right
Function, exercise of the facul- moment; III. i. 32.
ties; II. iii. 362. Hard at hand, close at hand;
Fustian "discourse ; f .", talk rub- (Qq., "hand at hand") ; II. i.

bish; II. iii. 287. 275.

Hardness, hardship; I. iii. 235.
Galls, rancor, bitterness of mind ; Haste-post-haste, very great
IV. iii. 94. haste; I. ii. 37.
Garb, fashion, manner; II. i. 323. Have with you, I'll go with you;
Garxer'd, treasured; IV. ii. 57. I. ii. 53.
Gastxess, ghastliness; (Qq. 1, 2, Having, allowance, (?) "pin-
"ieastures"; Q. 3, "gestures" ; money"; IV. iii. 93.
Q. 1687, "gestures"', Knight, Hearted, seated in the heart;
"ghastness") ; V. i. 106. III. iii. 448.
Gender, kind, sort; I. iii 328. Heavy, sad; V. ii. 371.
Generous, noble; III. iii. 280. "a h. night," a thick
;

Give away, give up; III. iii. 28. cloudy night; V. i. 42.
Goverxmext, self-control ; III. Heat, urgency; I. ii. 40.
iii. 256. Helm, helmet; I. iii. 274.
Gradation, order of promotion; Herself, itself; I. iii. 96.
I. i. 37. Hie, hasten; IV. iii. 50.
Grange, a solitary farm-house; High suppertime, high time for
I. i. 106. supper; IV. ii. 253.
Green, raw, inexperienced; II. i. Hint, subject, theme; I. iii. 142.
258. Hip; "have on the h.", catch at
Grise, step; I. iii. 200. an advantage, (a term in
Gross in sexse, palpable to rea- wrestling) ; II. i. 322.
son; I. ii. 72. Hold, make to linger; V. ii.

Guardage, guardianship; I. ii. 70. 334.

Guards, guardians; ("alluding to Home, to the point; II. i. 168.
the star Arctophylax," (John- Honesty, becoming; IV. i. 288.
son) ; II. i. 15. Hoxey, sweetheart; II. i. 209.
Guinea-hen, a term of contempt Horologe, clock; II. iii. 138.
for a woman; I. iii. 318. Housewife, hussy; IV. i. 95.

1
 ; :

THE MOOR Glossary

Hungerly, hungrily; III. iv. 102. tention; (F. 1, "instinctiuely"

Hurt; "to be h.", to endure be- Ff. 2, 3, 4, "distinctively"
ing hurt; V. ii. 163. Gould conj. " connective! y" ) ; I.

Hydiia, the fabulous monster iii. 155.

with many heads; II. iii. 314. Invention, mental activity; IV.
i. 200.
Ice-brook's temper, i. e. a sword Issues,conclusions; III. iii. 219.
tempered in the frozen brook; Iteration, repetition; V. ii. 150.
alluding to the ancient Spanish
custom of hardening steel by Janus, the two-headed Roman
plunging red-hot in the rivu- God; I. ii. 33.
let Salo near Bilbilis; V. ii. Jesses, straps of leather or silk,
252. with which hawks were tied by
Idle, barren; I. iii. 140. the leg for the falconer to hold
Idleness, unproductiveness, want her by; III. iii. 261.
of cultivation; I. iii. 329. Joint-ring, a ring with joints in
Import, importance; III. iii. 316. it, consisting of two halves;
Importancy, importance; I. iii. a lover's token; IV. iii. 73.
20. Jump, exactly; II. iii. 401.
In, on; I. i. 138. agree; I. iii. 5.
,

Inclining, favorably disposed; Just, exact; I. iii. 5.

II. iii. 354. Justly, truly and faithfully; I.

Incontinent, immediately; IV. iii. 124.

iii. 12.
Incontinently, immediately; I. Keep up, put up, do not draw;
iii. 307. I. ii. 59.
Index, introduction, prologue; II. Knave, servant; I. i. 45.
i. 270. Knee-crooking, fawning, obse-
Indign, unworthy; I. iii. 275. quious; I. i. 45.
Indues, affects, makes sensitive; Know of, learn from, find out
(Q. 3, "endures" Johnson conj. ; from; V. i. 117.
"subdues") III. iv. 143. ;

Ingener, inventor (of praises) Lack, miss; III. iii. 318.

II. i. 65. Law-days, court-days; III. iii.

Ingraft, ingrafted; II. iii. 147. 140.

Inhibited, prohibited, forbidden; Leagued, connected in friend-
I. ii. 79. ship; (Qq., Ff., "league") ; II.
In jointed them, joined them- iii. 221.
selves; I. iii. 35. Learn, teach; I. iii. 183.
Injuries; "in your i.", while do- Learned, intelligent; III. iii. 259,
ing injuries; II. i. 112. Leets, days on which courts are
Inordinate, immoderate; II. iii. held; III. iii. 140.
317. Levels, is in keeping, is suitable;
Intendment, intention; IV. ii. I. iii. 241.
209. Liberal, free, wanton; II. i. 167.
Intentively, with unbroken at- Lies, resides; III. iv. 2.
 ;

Glossary OTHELLO
Like, equal; II. i. 16. Modern, common-place; I. iii.

Lingered, prolonged; IV. ii. 234. 109.

List,boundary; "patient L", the Moe, more; IV. iii. 57.
bounds of patience; IV. i. 77. Molestation, disturbance; II. i.

inclination; (Ff., Qq. 2, 3,

, 16.
"leaue") ; II. i. 105. Monstrous, (trisyllabic) (Capell, ;

, Listen to, hear; II. i. 2-2-2. "monsterous") II. iii. 220. ;

LmxG, real, valid; III. iii. 409. Moons, months; I. iii. 84.
Lost, groundless, vain; V. ii. 269. Moorship's, (formed on analogy
Lown, lout, stupid, blockhead; of worship; Q. 1 reads "Wor-
II. iii. 97. ship's") ; I. i. 33.
Moraler, moralizer; II. iii. 307.
Mortal, deadly; II. i. 72.
Magniftco, a title given to a , fatal; V.* ii. 205.
Venetian grandee; L ii. 12. Mortise, "a hole made in timber
Maidhood, maidenhood; I. i. 174. to receive the tenon of another
Main, sea, ocean; II. i. 3. piece of timber") ; II. i. 9.
Make away, get away; V. i. 58. Moth, "an idle eater"; I. iii. 258.
Maxes, does; I. ii. 49. Motion, impulse, emotion; L iii.
Mammering, hesitating; (Ff., 95.
3 '
" mam' ring natural impulse;
Qq. 2, 3, ; Q. 1, , I. ii. 75.
"muttering"' (Johnson, "mum- Mountebanks, quacks; I. iii. 61.
me ring'') ; III. iii. 70. Mummy, a preparation used for
Max. wield; V. ii. 270. —
magical, as well as medicinal,
Manage, set on foot; II. iii. 218. — purposes, made originally
Mandragora, mandrake, a plant from mummies; III. iv. 74.
supposed to induce sleep; III. Mutualities, familiarities; II. i.

iii. 330. 274.

Make, crest ; II. i. 13. Mystery, trade, craft; IV. ii.

Manifest, reveal; I. ii. 32. 30.

Marble, (?) everlasting; III. iii.

460.
Naked, unarmed; V. ii. 258.
Mass: "by the mass," an oath;
Napkin, handkerchief; III. iii.
(Ff. 1, 2, 3, "Introth"; F. 4,
287.
"In troth/') ; II. iii. 393.
Native, natural, real; I. i. 62.
Master, captain; II. i. 214.
New, fresh; (Qq., "more"); I.
May, can; V. i. 78.
iii. 205.
Mazzard, head; II. iii. 158.
Next, nearest; I. iii. 205.
Me; "whip me," whip; (me ethic
North, north wind; V. ii. 220.
dative) ; I. i. 49.
Notorious, notable, egregious
Mean, means; III. i. 39.
IV. ii. 140.
Meet, seemly, becoming; I. i. 147.
Nuptial, wedding; (Qq., "Xup-
Mere, utter, absolute; II. ii. 3.
tialis") ; II. ii. 8.
HmiOK, a spoilt darling; V. i. 33.
Mischance, misfortune; V. i. 38.
Mock, ridicule; I. ii. 69. Obscure, abstruse; II. i. 270.

170
 THE MOOR Glossary

Observancy, homage; III. iv. Passage, people passing; V. '. 37.

146. Passing, surpassingly; I. iii. 16G.
Odd-even, probably the interval Patent, privilege; IV. i. 209.
between twelve o'clock at night Patience, (trisyllabic) ; II. iii.

and one o'clock in the morn- 385.

ing; Li. 125. Peculiar, personal; III. iii. 79.
Odds, quarrel; II. iii. 188. Peevish, childish, silly; II. iii.
Off, away; V. ii. 331. 188.
Off-capp'd, doffed their caps, sa- Pegs, "the pins of an instrument
luted; (Qq., "oft capt"); I. i. on which the strings are fas-
10. tened"; II. i. 205.
Offends, hurts, pains; II. iii. Perdurable, durable, lasting; I.
202. iii. 345.
Office, duty; (Q. 1, "duty"); Period, ending; V. ii. 357.
III. iv. 110. Pestilence, poison; II. iii. 370.
Officed, having a special func- Pierced, penetrated; I. iii. 219.
tion; I. iii. 272. Pioners, pioneers, the commonest
Offices, domestic offices, where soldiers, employed for rough,
food and drink were kept; II. hard work, such as leveling
ii. 10. roads, forming mines, etc.; III.
Old, time-honored system; I. i. iii. 346.
37. Pleasance, pleasure ; (Qq.,
Ok, at; II. iii. 135. "pleasure") II. iii. 299.
;

On't, of it; II. i. 30. Pliant, convenient; I. iii. 151.

Opinion, public opinion, reputa- Plume up, make to triumph; (Q.
tion; II. iii. 198. 1, "make up"); I. iii. 405.
Opposite, opposed; I. ii. 67. Poise, weight; III. iii. 82.
Other, otherwise; IV. ii. 13. Pontic sea, Euxine or Black Sea;
Ottomites, Ottomans; I. iii. 33. III. iii. 453.
Out-tongue, bear down; I. ii. 19. Portance, conduct; I. iii. 139.
Overt; "o. test," open proofs; Position, positive assertion; III.
I. iii. 107. iii. 234.
Owe, own; I. i. 66. P o s t-p o s t-h a s t e, very great
Owedst, didst own; III. iii. 333. haste; I. iii. 46.
Pottle -deep, to the bottom of the
tankard, a measure of two
Paddle, play, toy; II. i. 266. quarts; II. iii. 57.
Pageant, show, pretense; I. iii. Practice, plotting; III. iv. 138. .

18. Precious, used ironically; (Qq. 2,

Paragons, excels, surpasses; II. 3, "pernitious") ; V. ii. 235.
i. 62. Prefer, promote; II. i. 294.
Parcels, parts, portions; I. iii. , show, present; I. iii. 109.

154. Preferment, promotion; I. i. 36.

Partially, with undue favor; Pregnant, probable; II. i. 245.
(Qq. "partiality") ; II. iii. 221. Presently, immediately; III. j.
Parts, gifts; III. iii. 264. 38.

I
Glossary OTHELLO
Prick'd, incited, spurred; III. iii. Raised up, awakened; II. iii. 250.
412. Rank, coarse; II. i. 315.
Probal, probable, reasonable; II, , lustful ( ? morbid) ; III. iii.

iii. 352. 232.

Probation, proof; III. iii. 365. Recognizance, token; V. ii. 214.
Profane, coarse, irreverent; II. Reconciliation, restoration to
i. 167. favor; III. iii. 47.
Profit, profitable lesson; III. iii. Reference, assignment; (Q. 1,
379. "reuerence" ; Ff. 3, 4, "rever-
Proof; "made p.", test, make ence"; Johnson conj. "prefer-
trial; V. i. 26. ence"); I. iii. 239.
Proper, own; I. iii. 69. Regard, view; II. i. 40.
handsome; I. iii. 404.
, Region, part; IV. i. 85.
Propontic, the Sea of Marmora; Relume, rekindle; V. ii. 13.
TIL iii. 456. Remorse, pity, compassion; III,
Propose, speak; I. i. 25. iii. 369.
Propriety; "from her p.", out of Remove, banish; IV. ii. 14.
herself; II. iii. 179. Repeals, recalls to favor; II. iii.

Prosperity, success; II. i. 297. 371.

Prosperous, propitious; I. iii. 246. Reprobation, perdition, damna-
Puddled, muddled; III. iv. 140. tion; (Ff., "Beprobance") ; V.
Purse, wrinkle, frown; III. iii. ii. 209.
113. Reserves, keeps; III. iii. 295.
Put on, incite, instigate; II. iii. Respect, notice; IV. ii. 193.
365. Re-stem, retrace; I. iii. 37.
Revolt, inconstancy; III. iii. 188.
Qualification, appeasement; II. Rich, valuable, precious; II. iii.
i. 290. 198.
Qualified, diluted; II. iii. 42. Roman (used ironically) ; IV. i.

Quality; "very q.", i. e. very na- 120.

ture; I. iii. 253. Round, straightforward, plain; I.

Quarter; "in q.", in peace, iii. 90.

friendship; II. iii. 183. Rouse, bumper, full measure; II.

Quat, pimple (used con-

pistule, iii. 67.
temptuously); (Q. 1, "gnat"; Rude, harsh; III. iii. 355.
Theobald, "knot;' etc.); V. i. Ruffian' d, been boisterous,
11. raged; II. i. 7.

Question, trial and decision by

force of arms; I. iii. 23.
Quests, bodies of searchers; I. ii. Sadly, sorrowfully; II. i. 32.
46. Safe, sound; IV. i. 279.
Quicken, receive life; III. iii. Sagittary, a public building in
•
277. Venice; I. i. 160.
Quillets, quibbles; III. i, 25. Salt, lustful; II. i. 251.
Quirks, shallow conceits; II. i. Sans, without; I. iii. 64.
63, 'Sblood, a corruption of God's
1 72
 ; ;

THE MOOR Glossary

blood; an oath (the reading of Shrift, shriving place, confes-

Q. 1; omitted in others); I. i. sional; III. iii. 24.
4. Shut up in, confine to; III. iv.
Scant, neglect; I. iii. 269. 118.
'Scapes, escapes; I. iii. 136. Sibyl, prophetess; III. iv. 70.
Scattering, random; III. iii. 151. Siege, rank, place; 1. ii. 22.
Scion, slip, off-shoot; (Qq., Simpleness, simplicity; I. iii. 248.
"syen"; Ff. "Seyen"); I. iii. Sir; "play the s.", play the fine
339. gentleman; II. i. 178.
Scored me, "made my reckoning, Sith, since; (Qq., "since") ; III.
settled the term of my life" iii. 380.
(Johnson, Schmidt), "branded Skillet, boiler, kettle; I. iii. 274.
me" (Steevens, Clarke) IV. i. ; Slight, worthless, frivolous; II.
128. iii. 284.
Scorns, expressions of scorn; IV. Slipper, slippery; II. i. 252.
i. 84. Slubber, sully, soil; I. iii. 228.
Seamy side without, wrong side Snipe, simpleton; (F. 1, "Snpe"
out; IV. ii. 146. F. 2, "a Swaine"; Ff. 3, 4, "a
Sect, cutting, scion; I. iii. 339. Swain"); I. iii. 397.
Secure, free from care; IV. i. 73. Snorting, snoring; I. i. 90.
Secure me, feel myself secure; I. Soft, mild, gentle; I. iii. 82.
iii. 10. Soft you, hold; V. ii. 338.
Seel, blind (originally a term in Something, somewhat; II. iii.

falconry) I. iii. 271.

; 202.
Seeming, appearance, exterior; I. Sorry, painful; (Qq., "sullen";
iii. 109. Collier MS., "sudden") ; III. iv.
hypocrisy ; III. iii. 209.
, 51.
Segregation, dispersion; II. i. 10. Spake, said, affirmed; (Q. 3,
Self-bounty, "inherent kindness "speake") V. ii. 327.
;

and benevolence"; III. iii. 200. Spartan dog, the dogs of Spar-
Self-charity, charity to one's tan breed were fiercest; V. ii.
self; II. iii. 205. 361.
Se'nnight's, seven night's, a Speak i' the nose, "the Neapoli-

week's; II. i. 77. tans have a singularly drawl-

Sense, feeling; (Qq., "offence") ing nasal twang in the
II. iii. 272. utterance of their dialect; and
"to the s.", i. e. "to the
, Shylock tells of "when the bag-
quick"; V. i. 11. pipe sings i' the nose"
Sequent, successive; I. ii. 41. (Clarke); (Collier MS.,
Sequester, sequestration; III. iv. "squeak"; etc.) ; III. i. 5.
40. Speak parrot, talk nonsense; II.
Sequestration, rupture, divorce; iii. 286.
I. iii. 354. Speculative, possessing the
Shore, did cut; V. ii. 206. power of seeing; I. iii. 272.
Should, could; III. iv. 23. Spend, waste, squander; II. iii.

Shbewd, bad, evil; III. iii. 429. 198.

Glossary OTHELLO
Spleen, choler, anger; IV. i. 90. were celebrated for their ex-
Splinter, secure by splints; II. cellence; V. ii. 253.
iii. 336.
Squire, fellow; (used contemptu- Ta'en order, taken measures; V.
ously) IV. ii. 145.
; ii. 72.
Stand in act, are in action; I. i. Ta'en out, copied; III. iii. 296.
153. Tainting, disparaging; II. i. 283.
Start, startle, rouse; I. i. 101. Take out, copy; III. iv. 177.
Startingly, abruptly; (Ff. 3, 4, Tare up at the best, make the
" staring ly") ; III. iv. 79. best of; I. iii. 173.
Stay, are waiting for; IV. ii. 170. Talk, talk nonsense; IV. iii. 25.
Stead, benefit, help; I. iii. 347. Talk me, speak to me; III. iv.
Still, often, now and again; I. 91.
iii. 147. Tells o'er, counts; III. iii. 169.
Stomach, appetite; V. ii. 75. Theoric, theory; I. i. 24.
Stop; "your s.", the impediment Thick-lips; used contemptuously
you can place in my way; V. for "Africans"; I. i. 66.
ii. 264. Thin, slight, easily seen through;
Stoup, a vessel for holding li- I. iii. 108.
quor; II, iii. 31. Thread, thread of life; V. ii.

Stow'd, bestowed, placed; I. ii. 206.

62. Thrice-driven, "referring to the
Straight, straightway; I. i. 139. selection of the feathers by
Strain, urge, press; III. iii. 250. driving with a fan, to separate
Strangeness, estrangement; (Qq. the light from the heavy"
''strangest") ; III. iii. 12. (Johnson); I. iii. 233.
Stuff o' the conscience, matter Thrive in, succeed in gaining; I.

of conscience; I. ii. 2. iii. 125.

Subdued, made subject; I. iii. Time, life; I. i. 163.
252. Timorous, full of fear; I. i. 75.
Success, that which follows, con- Tire, make tired, weary out; II.
sequence; III. iii. 222. i. 65.
Sudden, quick, hasty; II. i. 287. Toged, wearing the toga; I. i. 25.
Sufferance, damage, loss; II. i. Told, struck, counted; (Ff. 3, 4,
23. "toll'd") ; II. ii. 12.
Sufficiency, ability; I. iii. 225. Toy, fancy; III. iv. 153.
Sufficient, able; III. iv. 90. Toys, trifles; I. iii. 270.
Suggest, tempt; II. iii. 366. Trash, worthless thing, dross; II.
Supersubtle, excessively crafty; i. 320.
(Collier MS., "super-supple") ; , keep back, hold in check, (a
I. iii. 367. hunter's term) ; II. i. 320.
Sweeting, a term of endearment; Traverse, march, go on; I. iii.

II. iii. 255. 384.

Swelling, inflated; II. iii. 58. Trimm'd in, dressed in, wearing;
Sword of Spain ; Spanish swords I. i. 50.

174
 ;

THE MOOR Glossary

Tukn,; "t. thy complexion," Virtuous, having efficacy, powers

change color; IV. ii. 62. ful; III. iv. 108.
Voices, votes; I. iii. 262.
Vouch, assert, maintain; I. iii.
Unblest, accursed; II. iii. 317.
103, 106.
Unbonneted, without taking off
,bear witness; I. iii. 26^.
the cap, on equal terms; I. ii.
,testimony; II. i. 150.
23.
Wage, venture, attempt; I. iii. 30.
Unbookish, ignorant; IV. i. 103.
Watch, watchman; V. i. 37.
Uncap able, incapable; IV. ii.
Watch keep him from
him,
238.
sleeping; a term in falconry;
Undertaker; "his u.", take
III. iii. 23.
charge of him, dispatch him;
Wearing, clothes; IV. iii. 16.
IV. i. 223.
Well said, well done; (Qq., "well
Unfold, reveal, bring to light;
sed") ; II. i. 171.
IV. ii. 141.
What, who; I. i. 18.
Unfolding, communication; I.
iii. 24G.
Wheeling, errant ; (Q. 2,
"wheedling")-, I. i. 138.
Unhandso3ie, unfair; III. iv.
Whipster, one who whips out
148.
his sword; (used contemptu-
Unhatch'd, undisclosed; III. iv.
ously) V. ii. 244.
;
138.
White, (used with a play upon
Unhoused, homeless, not tied to
white and wight) II. i. 134. ;
a household and family; I. ii.
Wholesome, reasonable; III. i.
26.
49.
Unlace, degrade; II. iii. 197.
Wicker, covered with wicker-
Unpeiifectness, imperfection; II.
work; (Ff. "Twiggen"); II. iii.
iii. 304.
155.
Unpbovide, make unprepared
Wight, person; (applied to both
IV. i. 217.
sexes) ; II. i. 161.
Unsure, uncertain; III. iii. 151.
Wind; "let her down the w.";
Unvarnish'u, plain, unadorned;
"the falconers always let the
I. iii. 90.
deprived under-
hawk fly against the wind; if
Unwitted, of
18,'
she flies with the wind behind
standing; II. iii.
her she seldom returns. If
Upon, incited by, urged by; I. i.
therefore a hawk was for any
100.
reason to be dismissed, she was
Use, custom; IV. i. 284.
let down the wind, and from
Uses, manners, habits; (Q. 1,
that time shifted for herself
"vsage") ; IV. iii. 106.
and preyed at fortune" (John-
son) III. iii. 262.
;

Vantage; "to the v.", over and Wind-shaked, wind-shaken; II. i.

above; IV. iii. 86. 13.

Vessel, body; IV. ii. 83. With, by; II. i. 34.
Vesture, garment; II. i. 64. Withal, with; I. iii. 93.
Violence, bold action; I. iii. 251. With all my heart, used both
Glossary OTHELLO
as a salutation, and also as a Wrench, wrest; (Q. 1,
reply to a salutation; IV. i. "Wring") V. ii. 288.
;

228. Wretch, a term of endearment;

Within (Theobald, "wench"); III. iii.
door; "speak w. d.", i. e.
90.
"not so loud as to be heard
outside the house"; IV. ii. 144. Wrought, worked upon; V. ii.

345.
Woman'd, accompanied by a
woman; III. iv. 192.
Yerk'd, thrust; I. ii. 5.
Worser, worse; I. i. 95. Yet, as yet, till now; III. iii. 432.

176
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