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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 I Tragoedy of Othello, | The Moore of Venice, j 
 As it hath beene diuerse times acted at the | 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 set forth a booke without an Epistle, were like to the old Eng- 
 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 last point has an important bearing on the date of 
 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 is genuine, and that Malone had some such entry 
 in his possession when he wrote his emphatic statement 
 (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 least we 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- 
 ficed him for his Othello" 1 (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 
 human compositions." 4 
 
 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 r ,or. When the 
 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 f Vot choose to meddle between man 
 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 that which 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 
 carrj r 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 
 it was 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 finished state, we have no means of ascertaining. Its 
 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 T prus, then went to Rhodes, there met another squadron, 
 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 r ould be two im- 
 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 r e can rightly 
 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 predispositions of character. 
 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 in a 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, he literally overwhelms his power of 
 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, if not preoccupied with vices, is empty of 
 virtues ; so that Iago has but to play upon his vanity and 
 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 it be objected to this view, that Iago states his mo- 
 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 it with 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, 
 till he 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 
 instinctively attires itself towards its best object; — a feel- 
 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 is not 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 describes her as a "maiden never bold; 
 of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion blush'd at 
 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 last farewell to whatsoever has made 
 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 T ith the tenderest feeling and adoration 
 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 
 assails himself with the rage a despot shows in punishing 
 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 
 itself to its own destruction," hurries on the catastrophe. 
 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 still worse, the grounds of the refusal are mili- 
 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 in it, her devoted fidelity 
 to her mistress and her increasing feeling rise 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 if we must needs make out a scrupulous law of retribu- 
 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, and obdurate in his revenge; the cool malignity of 
 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 
 
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 birth, woos and wins 
 Desdemona, daughter to Brabantio, a Venetian senator. 
 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 I ago. 
 
 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 I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof 
 At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds 
 Christian and heathen, must be be-lee'd and 
 
 calm'd 30 
 By debitor and creditor : this counter-caster, 
 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 life," and Coleridge thinks this reading "the true 
 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 is her father's house; I '11 call aloud. 
 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 lost your wits? 
 
 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 this odd-even and dull watch o' the night, 
 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. 
 
 132. "from the sense of all civility"; that is, departing from the 
 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 — as, if I stay, I shall — * 
 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. O heaven! How got she out? O treason of 
 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. 'Tis well I am found by you. 
 
 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 art, thou hast enchanted her; 
 For I '11 refer me to all things of sense, 
 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 all confirm 
 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-slaves and '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. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 Enter Sailor. 
 
 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? 
 
 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. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 First Sen. 
 
 This cannot be, 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 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 is abused, 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-potions was 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 this old man's daughter, 
 ^ 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 this should be. I therefore vouch again, 
 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 I ago 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, 
 Still questioned me the story of my life 
 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 all my"; Johnson conj. "portance in't; my" &c; 
 "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. My noble father, 180 
 
 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. 
 
 To mourn a mischief that is past and gone ty 
 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, 
 A moth 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. 2, 3, 4 ("effects"). The read- 
 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 hon esty 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 to her^Moor^j f thou has j^eyes to_see; 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: it was a violent commencement, and 
 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 it a more delicate way than drown- 
 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 man y 
 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 sell all my land. [Exit, 
 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 it is thought abroad that 'twixt my sheets 
 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 to cast water on the burning bear, 
 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 in the conduct of the bold Iago; 
 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 bless this bay with his tall ship, 
 Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms, 
 Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits, 81 
 And bring all Cyprus comfort. 
 
 Enter Desdemona, Emilia, Iago, Roderigo, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 O, behold, 
 The riches of the ship is come on shore ! 
 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 tidings can you tell me of my lord? 
 Cas. He is not yet arrived: nor know I aught 
 
 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 ? 
 
 I ago. 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. O heavy 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 
 
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" d 
 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, 
 
 My soul 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 of JCassio. 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 judg me nt cannot cure. Which thing to 
 do, 
 
 If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash 330 
 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. 
 
 320. "poor trash of Venice, whom I trash".' Steevens' emendation; 
 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 till used"; an honest man acts upon a plan, and 
 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 's teach 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 is indeed perfection. 
 
 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 let me 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. God forgive 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 is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar 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 
 
 Re-enter Cassio , driving in Roderigo. 
 
 Cas. 'Zounds ! you rogue ! you rascal ! 
 Mon. What 's the matter, lieutenant? 
 Cas. A knave 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, — sir, — Montano, — 
 
 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. 
 
 noise ? 
 
 A cry within: 'Help! help!' 
 
 Oth. 
 
 Re-enter Othello and Attendants. 
 
 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, 
 Yet surely 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 '11 make thee an example. 
 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, 
 so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. 
 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 : 
 A nd 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 is almost spent; I have 
 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, is the removal of Cassio. As their plan had 
 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. I '11 send her to you presently : 
 
 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 : 
 
 I will bestow you where you shall have time 
 
 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 shall become of Michael Cassio, 
 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, 
 Or breed 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 shall seem a school, his board a shrift; 
 
 I '11 intermingle every thing he does 
 
 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 — is not almost a fault 
 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 am vicious in my guess, 
 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"; it has been proposed to read "of my 
 jealousy," and change shapes into shape. At first sight, this is 
 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 
 
 Wh o steals my purse steals tras h ; 'tis something, 
 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 it feeds on: that cuckold lives in bliss 
 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 : 
 
 I am 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 clime, complexion and degree, 230 
 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 — 
 
 249. "his means" ; you 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 '11 go in with you. 
 
 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 : 
 My wayward husband hath a hund red 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: she let it drop by n egligence,—- 
 
 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 see 't ; or at the least so prove 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 
 
 351. "Farewell the neighing steed"; there is some resemblance be- 
 tween this speech and the following lines in Peek's "Farewell to the 
 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. 
 I ago. 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, 
 
 To be 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 
 I ago. 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! 
 la go. 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. 
 
 456. Steevens compares the following passage in Holland's Pliny: 
 — "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. 
 
 devise a lodging, and say he lies her£ or he 
 lies there, were to lie in mine own throat. 
 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 
 all will be well. 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 
 
 17. "by them answer"; that is, and by them, when answered, form 
 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 of mind 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. 
 
 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 
 
 Oth. Not? 
 
 Des. 
 
 Oth. 
 
 No, indeed, my lord. 
 
 That 's a fault. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Oth. J 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 ; 
 
 And it was dyed in mummy which the skillful 
 
 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 first account," says he, "was purposely ostentatious, 
 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. A man 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 is no other way ; 'tis she must do 't : 
 
 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 other healthful members even to that sense 
 
 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 to be naked with her friend in bed 
 An hour or more, not meaning any harm. 
 
 Oth. Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm! 
 It is hypocrisy 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 said'st — O, it comes o'er my memory, 20 
 As doth the raven o'er the inf ected house, 
 Boding to all — he had my handkerchief. 
 
 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 in this speech have something in them very terrible, and 
 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? 
 
 I ago, 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 will I question Cassio of 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 
 is persuaded I will marry her, out of her own 130 
 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 me thus about my neck — 
 
 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 in your 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. 
 
 I ago. After her, after her. 
 
 Cas. Faith, I must ; 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 am very 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 ; he 's busy in the paper. 
 
 Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio? 
 Des. A most unhappy one : I would do much 
 
 To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio. 
 Oth. Fire and brimstone ! 
 Des. My lord? 
 
 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. My lord? 
 
 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. My Lord, 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. My Lord? 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 : if what he might he is not, 
 
 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 is not honesty in me to / speak 
 
 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; 
 
 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 
 
 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 
 
 27. "Some of your function"; something that belongs to vour occu- 
 pation.— G. H. H. 
 
 in my face. 
 
 Des. 
 
 What horrible fancy 's this? 
 
 [Exit Emilia. 
 
 hell. 
 
 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, 
 
 Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin, 
 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! 
 I should make very forges of my cheeks, 
 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 is from Sacred Writ: 
 "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. What is your pleasure, madam ? How is 't 
 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, f air 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 squire he was 
 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; 
 
 And his unkindness may defeat my life, 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? 
 
 170. "The messengers of Venice stay the meat"; Knighfs reading; 
 F. 1, "The Messengers of Venice states the meate" ; Ff. 2, 3, 4, "The 
 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 me with 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 this instant do build on thee a 
 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. 
 
 Oth. O, pardon me; 'twill do me good to walk. 
 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 I a go 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. It is even so. 
 
 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 
 this? x 
 
 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 shall prove us, praise us. 
 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 't that cried! 
 
 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 me a 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, 
 
 That so 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. 
 
 I ago. 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. None in the world ; nor do I know the man. 
 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 of Ff.; Qq., "Gentlewoman." — I. G. 
 107. u 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 ! f oh ! 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 ! 
 
 2. 11 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 art dead, and I will kill thee, 
 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. 
 Des. 
 Oth. 
 Des. 
 Oth. 
 Des. 
 Oth. 
 
 . Aye. 
 
 '. He will not say so. 
 
 '. What, my lord? 
 . That he hath used thee. 
 
 No, his mouth is stopp'd ; 
 
 He hath confess'd. 
 
 How? unlawfully? 
 
 70 
 
 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 
 
 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. 
 
 face? 
 
 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. 
 Gra. J 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: 
 It was 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 this good sword 
 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 like thy chastity. O cursed slave! 
 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 's he that was Othello: here I am. 
 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 looks down 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. O thou 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 's another discontented paper, 
 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 jealosie. threw away such a jewel of a wife as Mariamne 
 was to him." This interpretation was Warburton's. "This it is," as 
 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 
 C as tar a: — 
 
 "So the unskilful Indian those bright gems 
 Which might add majesty to diadems, 
 'Mong the waves scatters/' — I. G. 
 
 350. "Arabian trees"; the acacia Arabica. — C. H. H. 
 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 is thy work: the object poisons sight; 
 
 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- 
 horrent to me; IV, ii. 162. 
 
 About, out; I. ii. 46. 
 
 Abuse, deceive; I. iii. 407. 
 
 Abused, deceived; I. i. 175. 
 
 Abuser, corrupter; I. ii. 78. 
 
 Achieved, won; II. i. 61. 
 
 Acknown non't, confess any 
 knowledge of it; III. iii. 319. 
 
 Act, action, working; III. iii. 
 338. 
 
 Action, accusation; I. iii. 70. 
 
 Addiction, inclination; II. ii. 7. 
 
 Addition, honor; III. iv. 191. 
 
 Advantage; "in the best a.", at 
 the most favorable opportu- 
 nity; I. iii. 299. 
 
 Advised, careful; I. ii. 55. 
 
 Advocation, advocacy; III. iv. 
 120. 
 
 Affined, bound by any tie; I. i. 
 39. 
 
 Affinity, connections; III. i. 49. 
 Agnize, confess with pride; I. iii. 
 233. 
 
 Aim, conjecture; I. iii. 6. 
 
 All in all, wholly, altogether; 
 
 IV. i. 90. 
 Allowance; "and your a.," and 
 
 has your permission; I. i. 129. 
 Allowed, acknowledged; I. iii. 
 
 225. 
 
 All's one, very well; IV. iii. 23. 
 Almain, German; II. iii. 87. 
 Ancient, ensign; (F. 1, "Aun- 
 tieni")\ I. i. 33. 
 
 Anthropophagi, cannibals; (Qq., 
 "Anthropophagie" ; F. 1, "An- 
 tropophague") ; I. iii. 144. 
 
 Antres, caverns; I. iii. 140. 
 
 Apart, aside; II. iii. 400. 
 
 Approve, prove, justify; II. iii. 
 65. 
 
 , love, adore; IV. iii. 19. 
 
 Approved, proved to have been 
 
 involved; II. iii. 214. 
 Apt, natural; II. i. 304. 
 Arraigning, accusing; III. iv. 
 
 149. 
 
 Arrivance, arrival; (Ff., "Ar- 
 rivancy" or "Arrivancie") ; II. 
 i. 42. 
 
 As, as if; III. iii. 77. 
 Aspics, venomous snakes; III. iii. 
 450. 
 
 Assay, a test; I. iii. 18. 
 Assay, try; II. i. 121. 
 Assure thee, be assured; III. iii. 
 20. 
 
 At, on; I. ii. 42. 
 Atone, reconcile; IV. i. 244. 
 Attach, arrest; I. ii. 77. 
 Attend, await; III. iii. 281. 
 
 Bauble, fool, (used contemptu- 
 ously); IV. i. 139. 
 
 Bear, the Constellation so called; 
 II. i. 14. 
 
 Bear out, get the better of; II. 
 i. 19. 
 
 Beer; "small beer," small ac- 
 counts, trifles; II. i. 163. 
 
 163 
 
Glossary 
 
 OTHELLO 
 
 Be-lee'd, placed on the lee; (Q. 
 
 I. "be led") ; L i. 30. 
 Beshrew me, a mild assevera- 
 tion; III. iv. 147. 
 
 Besort, what is becoming; L iii. 
 240. 
 
 Best; "were b.", had better; I. 
 
 ii. 30. 
 
 Bestow, place; III. i. 57. 
 
 Betimes, early; I. iii. 3S9. 
 
 Bid "good morrow," alluding to 
 the custom of friends bidding 
 good morrow by serenading a 
 newly married couple on the 
 morning after their marriage; 
 III. i. 2. 
 
 Birdlime, lime to catch birds; 
 
 II. i. 127. 
 
 Black, opposed to "fair"; III. 
 
 iii. 263. 
 
 Blank, the white mark in the 
 center of the butt, the aim; 
 
 III. iv. 125. 
 
 Blazoning, praising; II. i. 63. 
 Blood, anger, passion; II. iii. 208. 
 Blown, empty, puffed out; III. 
 iii. 182. 
 
 Bobb'd, got cunningly; V. i. 16. 
 Boding, foreboding, ominous; IV. 
 i. 22. 
 
 Bootless, profitless; L iii. 209. 
 
 Brace, state of defense; (prop- 
 erly, armor to protect the 
 arm) ; I. iii. 24. 
 
 Brave, defy; V. ii. 326. 
 
 Bravery, bravado, defiance; I. i. 
 100. 
 
 Bring on the way, accompany; 
 III. iv. 194. 
 
 Bulk, the projecting part of a 
 shop on which goods were ex- 
 posed for sale; V. i. 1. 
 
 Butt, goal, limit; V. ii. 267. 
 
 By, aside; V. ii. 30. 
 
 , "how you say by," what 
 
 say you to; I. iii. 17. 
 
 3y and by, presently; II, iii. 316. 
 
 1 
 
 Cable; "give him c", give him 
 scope; I. ii. 17. 
 
 Caitiff, thing, wretch; a term 
 of endearment; IV. i. 110. 
 
 Callet, a low woman; IV. ii. 121. 
 
 CaEm'd, becalmed, kept from mo- 
 tion; I. i. 30. 
 
 Canakin, little can; II. iii. 72. 
 
 Capable, ample; III. iii. 459- 
 
 Carack, large ship, galleon; I. ii. 
 50. 
 
 Caroused, drunk; II. iii. 56. 
 Carve for, indulge ; (Q. 1, 
 
 "carve forth") ; II. iii. 176. 
 Case, matter; (Ff., "cause"); 
 
 III. iii. 4. 
 Cast, dismissed, degraded from 
 
 office; V. ii. 327. 
 Censut.e, judgment; II. iii. 196. 
 
 , opinion; IV. i. 280. 
 
 Certes, certainly; I. i. 16. 
 Challenge, claim; I. iii. 188. 
 Chamberers, effeminate men; 
 
 III. iii. 265. 
 Chances, events; I. iii. 134. 
 Charm, make silent, restrain; V. 
 
 ii. 183. 
 
 Charmer, enchantress, sorceress; 
 III. iv. 57. 
 
 Cherubin, cherub; IV. ii. 62. 
 
 Chidden, chiding, making an in- 
 cessant noise; II. i. 12. 
 
 Chide, quarrel; IV. ii. 167. 
 
 Chuck, a term of endearment; 
 III. iv. 49. 
 
 Circumscription, restraint; I. ii. 
 27. 
 
 Circumstance, circumlocution; I. 
 i. 13. 
 
 , appurtenances; III. iii. 354. 
 
 Circumstanced, give way to cir- 
 cumstances; III. iv. 198. 
 
 Civtl, civilized; IV. i. 66. 
 
 Clean, entirely, altogether; I. iii 
 371. 
 
 Clime, country; III. iii. 230. 
 Clip, embrace: J II. iii. 464. 
 
THE MOOR 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Clog, encumber; (Ff. 1, 2, 3, "en- 
 clogge") ; II. i. 70. 
 
 Close, secret; III. iii. 123. 
 
 "Close as oAK"="close as the 
 grain of oak"; III. iii. 210. 
 
 Clyster-pipes, tubes used for in- 
 jection; II. i. 181. 
 
 Coat, coat of mail; V. i. 25. 
 
 Cogging, deceiving by lying; IV. 
 
 ii. 132. 
 
 Collied, blackened, darkened; II. 
 
 iii. 209. 
 
 Coloquiktida, colocynth, or bit- 
 ter apple; I. iii. 359. 
 
 Commoner, harlot; IV. ii. 72. 
 
 Companions, fellows; (used con- 
 temptuously); IV. ii. 141. 
 
 Compasses, annual circuits; III. 
 
 iv. 71. 
 
 Compliment extern, external 
 
 show; I. i. 63. 
 Composition, consistency; I. iii. 
 
 1. 
 
 Compt, reckoning, day of reck- 
 oning; V. ii. 273. 
 
 Conceit, idea; thought; (Q. 1, 
 "counsell") ; III. iii. 115. 
 
 Conceits, conceives, judges; III. 
 iii. 149. 
 
 Condition, temper, disposition ; 
 II. i. 262. 
 
 Confine, limit; I. ii. 27. 
 
 Conjunctive, closely united; (Q. 
 1, " communicatee" ; Q. 2, "con- 
 jectiue") ; I. iii. 380. 
 
 Conjured, charmed by incanta- 
 tions; I. iii. 105. 
 
 Conscionable, conscientious ; II. 
 i. 248. 
 
 Consent in, plan together; V. ii. 
 297. 
 
 Consequence, that which follows 
 
 or results; II. iii. 65. 
 Conserved, preserved ; (Q. 1, 
 
 " conserues" ; Q. 2, "concerue") ; 
 
 III iv. 75. 
 
 Consuls, senators ; (Theobald, 
 "Couns'lers" ; Hanmer, "coun- 
 sel") ; I. ii. 43. 
 
 Content, joy; II. i. 188. 
 
 , satisfy, reward; III. i. 1. 
 
 Content you, be satisfied, be 
 easy; I. i. 41. 
 
 Continuate, continual, uninter- 
 rupted; (Q. 1, "conuenient") ; 
 III. iv. 175. 
 
 Contrived, plotted, deliberate; I. 
 ii. 3. 
 
 Conveniences, comforts; II. i. 
 240. 
 
 Converse, conversation; III. i. 40. 
 Cope, meet; IV. i. 88. 
 Corrigible, corrective; I. iii. 330. 
 Counselor, prater; (Theobald, 
 
 "censurer") ; II. i. 167. 
 C o u n t e r-caster, accountant 
 
 (used contemptuously) ; 1. i. 
 
 31. 
 
 Course, proceeding; (Q. 1, 
 
 "cause") ; II. i. 284. 
 , run; (Q. 1, "make") ; III. 
 
 iv. 71. 
 
 Court and guard of safety, 
 "very spot and guarding place 
 of safety"; (Theobald, "court 
 of guard and safety") ; II. iii. 
 219. 
 
 Court of guard, the main guard- 
 house; II. i. 223. 
 
 Courtship, civility, elegance of 
 manners; (Q. 1, "courtesies") ; 
 II. i. 174. 
 
 Coxcomb, fool; V. ii. 233. 
 
 Cozening, cheating; IV. ii 
 132. 
 
 Crack, breach; II. iii. 338. 
 Creation, nature; II. i. 64. 
 Cries on, cries out; (Ff. 2, 3, 4, 
 
 "cries out") ; V. i. 48. 
 Critical, censorious; II. i. 120. 
 Crusadoes, Portuguese gold coins ; 
 
 so called from the cross on 
 
 li 
 
Glossary 
 
 OTHELLO 
 
 them (worth between six and 
 seven shillings); III. iv. 26. 
 
 Cry, pack of hounds; II. iii. 379. 
 
 Cunning, knowledge; III. iii. 49. 
 
 Curled, having hair formed into 
 ringlets, hence, affected, fop- 
 pish; I. ii. 68. 
 
 Customer, harlot; IV. i. 121. 
 
 Daffest, dost put off; (Collier, 
 "daff'st"; Qq., "dofftst"; F. 1, 
 "dafts"); IV. ii. 175. 
 
 Danger; "hurt to danger," dan- 
 gerously hurt, wounded; II. iii. 
 200. 
 
 Darlings, favorites; I. ii. 68. 
 
 Daws, jack-daws; I. i. 65. 
 
 Dear, deeply felt; I. iii. 261. 
 
 Dearest, most zealous; I. iii. 85. 
 
 Debitor and creditor, "the title 
 of certain ancient treatises on 
 bookkeeping; here used as a 
 nick-name" (Clarke) ; I. i. 31. 
 
 Defeat, destroy; IV. ii. 160. 
 
 , disfigure; I. iii. 348. 
 
 Defend, forbid; I. iii. 268. 
 
 Delations, accusations; III. iii. 
 123. 
 
 Delighted, delightful; I. iii. 291. 
 
 Deliver, say, relate; II. iii. 222. 
 
 Demand, ask; V. ii. 301. 
 
 Demerits, merits; I. ii. 22. 
 
 Demonstrable; "made d.", dem- 
 onstrated, revealed; III. iv. 139. 
 
 Denotement, denoting; II. iii. 
 329. 
 
 Deputing, substituting; IV. i. 
 248. 
 
 Designment, design; II. i. 22. 
 Desired; "well d.", well loved, a 
 
 favorite; II. i. 209. 
 Despite, contempt, aversion; IV. 
 
 ii. 116. 
 
 Determinate, decisive; IV. ii. 
 235. 
 
 Devesting, divesting; II. iii. 184. 
 
 Diablo, the Devil; II. iii. 164. 
 
 Diet, feed; II. i. 311. 
 
 Dilate, relate in detail, at 
 length; I. iii. 153. 
 
 Directly, in a direct straight- 
 forward way; IV. ii. 215. 
 
 Discontented, full of dissatis- 
 faction; V. ii. 314. 
 
 Discourse of thought, faculty 
 of thinking, range of thought; 
 IV. ii. 153. 
 
 Dislikes, displeases; II. iii. 50. 
 
 Displeasuue ; "your d.", the dis- 
 favor you have incurred; III. 
 
 i. 45. 
 
 Disports, sports, pastimes; i. iii. 
 273. 
 
 Dispose, disposition; I. iii. 409. 
 
 Disprove, refute; V. ii. 172. 
 
 Disputed on, argued, investi- 
 gated; I. ii. 75. 
 
 Distaste, be distasteful; III. iii. 
 327. 
 
 Division, arrangement; I. i. 23. 
 Do, act; I. iii. 402. 
 Dotage, affection for; IV. i. 27. 
 Double, of two- fold influence; I. 
 
 ii. 14. 
 
 Double set, go twice round ; II. 
 
 iii. 138. 
 
 Doubt, suspicion; III. iii. 188. 
 
 , fear; III. iii. 19. 
 
 Dream, expectation, anticipation; 
 II. iii. 65. 
 
 Ecstasy, swoon; IV. i. 81. 
 Elements, a pure extract, the 
 
 quintessence; II. iii. 60. 
 Embay'd, land-locked; II. i. 18. 
 Encave, hide, conceal; IV. i. 83. 
 Enciiafed, chafed, angry; II. i. 
 
 17. 
 
 Engage, pledge; III. iii. 462. 
 Engines, devices, contrivances,; 
 
 (?) instruments of torture; I\. 
 
 ii. 225. 
 
THE MOOR 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Engluts, engulfs, swallows up; I. 
 
 iii. 57. 
 
 Enshelter'd, sheltered; II. i. 18. 
 
 Ensteep'd, steeped, lying con- 
 cealed under water; (Q. 1, "en- 
 scerped") ; II. i. 70. 
 
 Entertainment, re-engagement 
 in the service; III. iii. 250. 
 
 Enwheel, encompass, surround; 
 
 II. i. 87. 
 
 Equinox, counterpart; II. iii. 
 132. 
 
 Erring, wandering; III. iii. 
 227. 
 
 Error, deviation, irregularity ; 
 
 V. ii. 109. 
 Escape, escapade, wanton freak; 
 
 I. iii. 197. 
 Essential, real; II. i. 64. 
 Estimation, reputation; I. iii. 
 
 276. 
 
 Eternal, damned (used to ex- 
 press abhorrence) ; IV. ii. 130. 
 
 Ever-fixed, fixed for ever; (Qq., 
 "ever-fired") ; II. i. 15. 
 
 Execute, to wreak anger; II. iii. 
 231. 
 
 Execution, working; III. iii. 
 
 ...66. 
 
 Exercise, religious exercise; III. 
 
 iv. 41. 
 
 Exhibition, allowance; I. iii. 239. 
 
 Expert, experienced; II. iii. 84. 
 
 Expert and approved allowance, 
 acknowledged and proved abil- 
 ity; II. i. 49. 
 
 Exsufflicate, inflated, unsub- 
 stantial; (Qq., Ff. 1, 2, 3, "ex- 
 ufflicate" ; F. 4, "exufflicated") ; 
 
 III. iii. 182. 
 
 Extern, external; I. i. 63. 
 
 Extincted, extinct; (Ff. 3, 4, 
 "extinctest" ; Rowe, "extin- 
 guish'd"); II. i. 81. 
 
 Extravagant, vagrant, wander- 
 ing; I. i. 138. 
 
 7 f 1 
 
 Facile, easy; I. iii. 22. 
 Falls, lets fall; IV. i. 256. 
 Fantasy, fancy; III. iii. 299. 
 Fashion, conventional custom; 
 
 II. i. 211. 
 
 Fast, faithfully devoted; I. iii. 
 374. 
 
 Fathom, reach, capacity; I. i. 
 154. 
 
 Favor, countenance, appearance: 
 
 III. iv. 122. 
 
 Fearful, full of fear; I. iii. 12. 
 Fell, cruel; V. ii. 362. 
 Filches, pilfers, steals; III. iii. 
 159. 
 
 Filth, used contemptuously; V. 
 
 ii. 231. 
 
 Fineless, without limit, bound- 
 less; III. iii. 173. 
 
 Fitchew, pole-cat; (used con- 
 temptuously) ; IV. i. 149. 
 
 Fits, befits; III. iv. 147. 
 
 Fleers, sneers; IV. i. 84. 
 
 Flood, sea; I. iii. 135. 
 
 Flood-gate, rushing, impetuous ; 
 I. iii. 56. 
 
 Folly, unchastity; V. ii. 132. 
 
 Fond, foolish; I. iii. 321. 
 
 Fopped, befooled, duped; IV. ii. 
 199. 
 
 For, because; (Ff., "when"); I. 
 
 iii. 270. 
 
 Forbear, spare; I. ii. 10. 
 Fordoes, destroys; V. i. 129. 
 Forfend, forbid; V. ii. 32. 
 Forgot; "are thus f.", have so 
 
 forgotten yourself; II. iii. 191. 
 Forms and visages, external 
 
 show, outward appearance; I. 
 
 i. 50. 
 
 Forth of, forth from, out of; 
 
 (F. 1, "For of"; Ff. 2, 3, 4, 
 
 "For off") ; V. i. 35. 
 Fortitude, strength; I. iii. 222. 
 Fortune, chance, accident; V. ii. 
 
 226. 
 
Glossary 
 
 OTHELLO 
 
 Framed, moulded, formed; I. iii. 
 410. 
 
 Fbaught, freight, burden; III. 
 iii. 449. 
 
 Free, innocent, free from guilt; 
 
 III. iii. 255. 
 
 , liberal; I. iii. 267. 
 
 Frights, terrifies; II. iii. 178. 
 
 Frize, a kind of coarse woolen 
 stuff; II. i. 127. 
 
 From, contrary to; I. i. 133. 
 
 Fruitful, generous; II. iii. 355. 
 
 Full, perfect; II. i. 36. 
 
 Function, exercise of the facul- 
 ties; II. iii. 362. 
 
 Fustian ; "discourse f .", talk rub- 
 bish; II. iii. 287. 
 
 Galls, rancor, bitterness of mind ; 
 
 IV. iii. 94. 
 
 Garb, fashion, manner; II. i. 323. 
 Garxer'd, treasured; IV. ii. 57. 
 Gastxess, ghastliness; (Qq. 1, 2, 
 
 "ieastures"; Q. 3, "gestures" ; 
 
 Q. 1687, "gestures"', Knight, 
 
 "ghastness") ; V. i. 106. 
 Gender, kind, sort; I. iii 328. 
 Generous, noble; III. iii. 280. 
 Give away, give up; III. iii. 28. 
 Goverxmext, self-control ; III. 
 
 iii. 256. 
 
 Gradation, order of promotion; 
 I. i. 37. 
 
 Grange, a solitary farm-house; 
 I. i. 106. 
 
 Green, raw, inexperienced; II. i. 
 258. 
 
 Grise, step; I. iii. 200. 
 
 Gross in sexse, palpable to rea- 
 son; I. ii. 72. 
 
 Guardage, guardianship; I. ii. 70. 
 
 Guards, guardians; ("alluding to 
 the star Arctophylax," (John- 
 son) ; II. i. 15. 
 
 Guinea-hen, a term of contempt 
 for a woman; I. iii. 318. 
 
 1 
 
 Gyve, fetter, ensnare; II. i. 173. 
 
 Habits, appearances, outward 
 
 show; I. iii. 108. 
 Haggard, an untrained wild 
 
 hawk; III. iii. 260. 
 Hales, hauls, draws; IV. i. 142. 
 Haply, perhaps; II. i. 288. 
 Happ'd, happened, occurred; V. 
 
 i. 127. 
 
 Happiness, good luck; III. iv. 
 108. 
 
 Happy; "in h. time," at the right 
 
 moment; III. i. 32. 
 Hard at hand, close at hand; 
 
 (Qq., "hand at hand") ; II. i. 
 
 275. 
 
 Hardness, hardship; I. iii. 235. 
 Haste-post-haste, very great 
 
 haste; I. ii. 37. 
 Have with you, I'll go with you; 
 
 I. ii. 53. 
 
 Having, allowance, (?) "pin- 
 
 money"; IV. iii. 93. 
 Hearted, seated in the heart; 
 
 III. iii. 448. 
 Heavy, sad; V. ii. 371. 
 ; "a h. night," a thick 
 
 cloudy night; V. i. 42. 
 Heat, urgency; I. ii. 40. 
 Helm, helmet; I. iii. 274. 
 Herself, itself; I. iii. 96. 
 Hie, hasten; IV. iii. 50. 
 High suppertime, high time for 
 
 supper; IV. ii. 253. 
 Hint, subject, theme; I. iii. 142. 
 Hip; "have on the h.", catch at 
 
 an advantage, (a term in 
 
 wrestling) ; II. i. 322. 
 Hold, make to linger; V. ii. 
 
 334. 
 
 Home, to the point; II. i. 168. 
 Honesty, becoming; IV. i. 288. 
 Hoxey, sweetheart; II. i. 209. 
 Horologe, clock; II. iii. 138. 
 Housewife, hussy; IV. i. 95. 
 
THE MOOR 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Hungerly, hungrily; III. iv. 102. 
 
 Hurt; "to be h.", to endure be- 
 ing hurt; V. ii. 163. 
 
 Hydiia, the fabulous monster 
 with many heads; II. iii. 314. 
 
 Ice-brook's temper, i. e. a sword 
 tempered in the frozen brook; 
 alluding to the ancient Spanish 
 custom of hardening steel by 
 plunging red-hot in the rivu- 
 let Salo near Bilbilis; V. ii. 
 252. 
 
 Idle, barren; I. iii. 140. 
 Idleness, unproductiveness, want 
 
 of cultivation; I. iii. 329. 
 Import, importance; III. iii. 316. 
 Importancy, importance; I. iii. 
 
 20. 
 
 In, on; I. i. 138. 
 
 Inclining, favorably disposed; 
 
 II. iii. 354. 
 Incontinent, immediately; IV. 
 
 iii. 12. 
 
 Incontinently, immediately; I. 
 iii. 307. 
 
 Index, introduction, prologue; II. 
 i. 270. 
 
 Indign, unworthy; I. iii. 275. 
 Indues, affects, makes sensitive; 
 
 (Q. 3, "endures" ; Johnson conj. 
 
 "subdues") ; III. iv. 143. 
 Ingener, inventor (of praises) ; 
 
 II. i. 65. 
 Ingraft, ingrafted; II. iii. 147. 
 Inhibited, prohibited, forbidden; 
 
 I. ii. 79. 
 
 In jointed them, joined them- 
 selves; I. iii. 35. 
 
 Injuries; "in your i.", while do- 
 ing injuries; II. i. 112. 
 
 Inordinate, immoderate; II. iii. 
 317. 
 
 Intendment, intention; IV. ii. 
 209. 
 
 Intentively, with unbroken at- 
 
 tention; (F. 1, "instinctiuely" : 
 Ff. 2, 3, 4, "distinctively" 
 Gould conj. " connective! y" ) ; I. 
 iii. 155. 
 
 Invention, mental activity; IV. 
 i. 200. 
 
 Issues, conclusions; III. iii. 219. 
 Iteration, repetition; V. ii. 150. 
 
 Janus, the two-headed Roman 
 
 God; I. ii. 33. 
 Jesses, straps of leather or silk, 
 
 with which hawks were tied by 
 
 the leg for the falconer to hold 
 
 her by; III. iii. 261. 
 Joint-ring, a ring with joints in 
 
 it, consisting of two halves; 
 
 a lover's token; IV. iii. 73. 
 Jump, exactly; II. iii. 401. 
 
 , agree; I. iii. 5. 
 
 Just, exact; I. iii. 5. 
 
 Justly, truly and faithfully; I. 
 
 iii. 124. 
 
 Keep up, put up, do not draw; 
 I. ii. 59. 
 
 Knave, servant; I. i. 45. 
 
 Knee-crooking, fawning, obse- 
 quious; I. i. 45. 
 
 Know of, learn from, find out 
 from; V. i. 117. 
 
 Lack, miss; III. iii. 318. 
 Law-days, court-days; III. iii. 
 140. 
 
 Leagued, connected in friend- 
 ship; (Qq., Ff., "league") ; II. 
 iii. 221. 
 
 Learn, teach; I. iii. 183. 
 
 Learned, intelligent; III. iii. 259, 
 
 Leets, days on which courts are 
 held; III. iii. 140. 
 
 Levels, is in keeping, is suitable; 
 I. iii. 241. 
 
 Liberal, free, wanton; II. i. 167. 
 
 Lies, resides; III. iv. 2. 
 
Glossary 
 
 OTHELLO 
 
 Like, equal; II. i. 16. 
 
 Lingered, prolonged; IV. ii. 234. 
 
 List, boundary; "patient L", the 
 
 bounds of patience; IV. i. 77. 
 , inclination; (Ff., Qq. 2, 3, 
 
 "leaue") ; II. i. 105. 
 
 , Listen to, hear; II. i. 2-2-2. 
 
 LmxG, real, valid; III. iii. 409. 
 Lost, groundless, vain; V. ii. 269. 
 Lown, lout, stupid, blockhead; 
 
 II. iii. 97. 
 
 Magniftco, a title given to a 
 
 Venetian grandee; L ii. 12. 
 Maidhood, maidenhood; I. i. 174. 
 Main, sea, ocean; II. i. 3. 
 Make away, get away; V. i. 58. 
 Maxes, does; I. ii. 49. 
 Mammering, hesitating; (Ff., 
 
 Qq. 2, 3, " mam' ring 3 ' ; Q. 1, 
 
 "muttering"' (Johnson, "mum- 
 
 me ring'') ; III. iii. 70. 
 Max. wield; V. ii. 270. 
 Manage, set on foot; II. iii. 218. 
 Mandragora, mandrake, a plant 
 
 supposed to induce sleep; III. 
 
 iii. 330. 
 Make, crest ; II. i. 13. 
 Manifest, reveal; I. ii. 32. 
 Marble, (?) everlasting; III. iii. 
 
 460. 
 
 Mass: "by the mass," an oath; 
 (Ff. 1, 2, 3, "Introth"; F. 4, 
 "In troth/') ; II. iii. 393. 
 
 Master, captain; II. i. 214. 
 
 May, can; V. i. 78. 
 
 Mazzard, head; II. iii. 158. 
 
 Me; "whip me," whip; (me ethic 
 dative) ; I. i. 49. 
 
 Mean, means; III. i. 39. 
 
 Meet, seemly, becoming; I. i. 147. 
 
 Mere, utter, absolute; II. ii. 3. 
 
 HmiOK, a spoilt darling; V. i. 33. 
 
 Mischance, misfortune; V. i. 38. 
 
 Mock, ridicule; I. ii. 69. 
 
 Modern, common-place; I. iii. 
 109. 
 
 Moe, more; IV. iii. 57. 
 Molestation, disturbance; II. i. 
 16. 
 
 Monstrous, (trisyllabic) ; (Capell, 
 "monsterous") ; II. iii. 220. 
 
 Moons, months; I. iii. 84. 
 
 Moorship's, (formed on analogy 
 of worship; Q. 1 reads "Wor- 
 ship's") ; I. i. 33. 
 
 Moraler, moralizer; II. iii. 307. 
 
 Mortal, deadly; II. i. 72. 
 
 , fatal; V.* ii. 205. 
 
 Mortise, "a hole made in timber 
 to receive the tenon of another 
 piece of timber") ; II. i. 9. 
 
 Moth, "an idle eater"; I. iii. 258. 
 
 Motion, impulse, emotion; L iii. 
 95. 
 
 , natural impulse; I. ii. 75. 
 
 Mountebanks, quacks; I. iii. 61. 
 
 Mummy, a preparation used for 
 magical, — as well as medicinal, 
 — purposes, made originally 
 from mummies; III. iv. 74. 
 
 Mutualities, familiarities; II. i. 
 274. 
 
 Mystery, trade, craft; IV. ii. 
 
 30. 
 
 Naked, unarmed; V. ii. 258. 
 Napkin, handkerchief; III. iii. 
 287. 
 
 Native, natural, real; I. i. 62. 
 New, fresh; (Qq., "more"); I. 
 
 iii. 205. 
 Next, nearest; I. iii. 205. 
 North, north wind; V. ii. 220. 
 Notorious, notable, egregious ; 
 
 IV. ii. 140. 
 Nuptial, wedding; (Qq., "Xup- 
 
 tialis") ; II. ii. 8. 
 
 Obscure, abstruse; II. i. 270. 
 
 170 
 
THE MOOR 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Observancy, homage; III. iv. 
 146. 
 
 Odd-even, probably the interval 
 between twelve o'clock at night 
 and one o'clock in the morn- 
 ing; Li. 125. 
 
 Odds, quarrel; II. iii. 188. 
 
 Off, away; V. ii. 331. 
 
 Off-capp'd, doffed their caps, sa- 
 luted; (Qq., "oft capt"); I. i. 
 10. 
 
 Offends, hurts, pains; II. iii. 
 202. 
 
 Office, duty; (Q. 1, "duty"); 
 III. iv. 110. 
 
 Officed, having a special func- 
 tion; I. iii. 272. 
 
 Offices, domestic offices, where 
 food and drink were kept; II. 
 ii. 10. 
 
 Old, time-honored system; I. i. 
 37. 
 
 Ok, at; II. iii. 135. 
 
 On't, of it; II. i. 30. 
 
 Opinion, public opinion, reputa- 
 tion; II. iii. 198. 
 
 Opposite, opposed; I. ii. 67. 
 
 Other, otherwise; IV. ii. 13. 
 
 Ottomites, Ottomans; I. iii. 33. 
 
 Out-tongue, bear down; I. ii. 19. 
 
 Overt; "o. test," open proofs; 
 I. iii. 107. 
 
 Owe, own; I. i. 66. 
 
 Owedst, didst own; III. iii. 333. 
 
 Paddle, play, toy; II. i. 266. 
 Pageant, show, pretense; I. iii. 
 18. 
 
 Paragons, excels, surpasses; II. 
 i. 62. 
 
 Parcels, parts, portions; I. iii. 
 154. 
 
 Partially, with undue favor; 
 
 (Qq. "partiality") ; II. iii. 221. 
 Parts, gifts; III. iii. 264. 
 
 Passage, people passing; V. '. 37. 
 Passing, surpassingly; I. iii. 16G. 
 Patent, privilege; IV. i. 209. 
 Patience, (trisyllabic) ; II. iii. 
 385. 
 
 Peculiar, personal; III. iii. 79. 
 Peevish, childish, silly; II. iii. 
 188. 
 
 Pegs, "the pins of an instrument 
 on which the strings are fas- 
 tened"; II. i. 205. 
 
 Perdurable, durable, lasting; I. 
 iii. 345. 
 
 Period, ending; V. ii. 357. 
 
 Pestilence, poison; II. iii. 370. 
 
 Pierced, penetrated; I. iii. 219. 
 
 Pioners, pioneers, the commonest 
 soldiers, employed for rough, 
 hard work, such as leveling 
 roads, forming mines, etc.; III. 
 iii. 346. 
 
 Pleasance, pleasure ; (Qq., 
 
 "pleasure") ; II. iii. 299. 
 Pliant, convenient; I. iii. 151. 
 Plume up, make to triumph; (Q. 
 
 1, "make up"); I. iii. 405. 
 Poise, weight; III. iii. 82. 
 Pontic sea, Euxine or Black Sea; 
 
 III. iii. 453. 
 Portance, conduct; I. iii. 139. 
 Position, positive assertion; III. 
 
 iii. 234. 
 
 P o s t-p o s t-h a s t e, very great 
 
 haste; I. iii. 46. 
 Pottle -deep, to the bottom of the 
 
 tankard, a measure of two 
 
 quarts; II. iii. 57. 
 Practice, plotting; III. iv. 138. . 
 Precious, used ironically; (Qq. 2, 
 
 3, "pernitious") ; V. ii. 235. 
 Prefer, promote; II. i. 294. 
 
 , show, present; I. iii. 109. 
 
 Preferment, promotion; I. i. 36. 
 Pregnant, probable; II. i. 245. 
 Presently, immediately; III. j. 
 
 38. 
 
 I 
 
Glossary 
 
 OTHELLO 
 
 Prick'd, incited, spurred; III. iii. 
 412. 
 
 Probal, probable, reasonable; II, 
 iii. 352. 
 
 Probation, proof; III. iii. 365. 
 Profane, coarse, irreverent; II. 
 i. 167. 
 
 Profit, profitable lesson; III. iii. 
 379. 
 
 Proof; "made p.", test, make 
 
 trial; V. i. 26. 
 Proper, own; I. iii. 69. 
 
 , handsome; I. iii. 404. 
 
 Propontic, the Sea of Marmora; 
 
 TIL iii. 456. 
 Propose, speak; I. i. 25. 
 Propriety; "from her p.", out of 
 
 herself; II. iii. 179. 
 Prosperity, success; II. i. 297. 
 Prosperous, propitious; I. iii. 246. 
 Puddled, muddled; III. iv. 140. 
 Purse, wrinkle, frown; III. iii. 
 
 113. 
 
 Put on, incite, instigate; II. iii. 
 365. 
 
 Qualification, appeasement; II. 
 i. 290. 
 
 Qualified, diluted; II. iii. 42. 
 
 Quality; "very q.", i. e. very na- 
 ture; I. iii. 253. 
 
 Quarter; "in q.", in peace, 
 friendship; II. iii. 183. 
 
 Quat, pistule, pimple (used con- 
 temptuously); (Q. 1, "gnat"; 
 Theobald, "knot;' etc.); V. i. 
 11. 
 
 Question, trial and decision by 
 force of arms; I. iii. 23. 
 
 Quests, bodies of searchers; I. ii. 
 46. 
 
 Quicken, receive life; III. iii. 
 • 277. 
 
 Quillets, quibbles; III. i, 25. 
 Quirks, shallow conceits; II. i. 
 63, 
 
 1 
 
 Raised up, awakened; II. iii. 250. 
 Rank, coarse; II. i. 315. 
 
 , lustful ( ? morbid) ; III. iii. 
 
 232. 
 
 Recognizance, token; V. ii. 214. 
 
 Reconciliation, restoration to 
 favor; III. iii. 47. 
 
 Reference, assignment; (Q. 1, 
 "reuerence" ; Ff. 3, 4, "rever- 
 ence"; Johnson conj. "prefer- 
 ence"); I. iii. 239. 
 
 Regard, view; II. i. 40. 
 
 Region, part; IV. i. 85. 
 
 Relume, rekindle; V. ii. 13. 
 
 Remorse, pity, compassion; III, 
 iii. 369. 
 
 Remove, banish; IV. ii. 14. 
 
 Repeals, recalls to favor; II. iii. 
 371. 
 
 Reprobation, perdition, damna- 
 tion; (Ff., "Beprobance") ; V. 
 
 ii. 209. 
 
 Reserves, keeps; III. iii. 295. 
 Respect, notice; IV. ii. 193. 
 Re-stem, retrace; I. iii. 37. 
 Revolt, inconstancy; III. iii. 188. 
 Rich, valuable, precious; II. iii. 
 198. 
 
 Roman (used ironically) ; IV. i. 
 120. 
 
 Round, straightforward, plain; I. 
 
 iii. 90. 
 
 Rouse, bumper, full measure; II. 
 iii. 67. 
 
 Rude, harsh; III. iii. 355. 
 Ruffian' d, been boisterous, 
 raged; II. i. 7. 
 
 Sadly, sorrowfully; II. i. 32. 
 Safe, sound; IV. i. 279. 
 Sagittary, a public building in 
 
 Venice; I. i. 160. 
 Salt, lustful; II. i. 251. 
 Sans, without; I. iii. 64. 
 'Sblood, a corruption of God's 
 
 72 
 
THE MOOR 
 
 Glossary 
 
 blood; an oath (the reading of 
 Q. 1; omitted in others); I. i. 
 4. 
 
 Scant, neglect; I. iii. 269. 
 'Scapes, escapes; I. iii. 136. 
 Scattering, random; III. iii. 151. 
 Scion, slip, off-shoot; (Qq., 
 
 "syen"; Ff. "Seyen"); I. iii. 
 
 339. 
 
 Scored me, "made my reckoning, 
 settled the term of my life" 
 (Johnson, Schmidt), "branded 
 me" (Steevens, Clarke) ; IV. i. 
 128. 
 
 Scorns, expressions of scorn; IV. 
 i. 84. 
 
 Seamy side without, wrong side 
 
 out; IV. ii. 146. 
 Sect, cutting, scion; I. iii. 339. 
 Secure, free from care; IV. i. 73. 
 Secure me, feel myself secure; I. 
 
 iii. 10. 
 
 Seel, blind (originally a term in 
 
 falconry) ; I. iii. 271. 
 Seeming, appearance, exterior; I. 
 
 iii. 109. 
 
 , hypocrisy ; III. iii. 209. 
 
 Segregation, dispersion; II. i. 10. 
 Self-bounty, "inherent kindness 
 
 and benevolence"; III. iii. 200. 
 Self-charity, charity to one's 
 
 self; II. iii. 205. 
 Se'nnight's, seven night's, a 
 
 week's; II. i. 77. 
 Sense, feeling; (Qq., "offence") ; 
 
 II. iii. 272. 
 , "to the s.", i. e. "to the 
 
 quick"; V. i. 11. 
 Sequent, successive; I. ii. 41. 
 Sequester, sequestration; III. iv. 
 
 40. 
 
 Sequestration, rupture, divorce; 
 
 I. iii. 354. 
 Shore, did cut; V. ii. 206. 
 Should, could; III. iv. 23. 
 Shbewd, bad, evil; III. iii. 429. 
 
 Shrift, shriving place, confes- 
 sional; III. iii. 24. 
 
 Shut up in, confine to; III. iv. 
 118. 
 
 Sibyl, prophetess; III. iv. 70. 
 Siege, rank, place; 1. ii. 22. 
 Simpleness, simplicity; I. iii. 248. 
 Sir; "play the s.", play the fine 
 
 gentleman; II. i. 178. 
 Sith, since; (Qq., "since") ; III. 
 
 iii. 380. 
 
 Skillet, boiler, kettle; I. iii. 274. 
 Slight, worthless, frivolous; II. 
 
 iii. 284. 
 Slipper, slippery; II. i. 252. 
 Slubber, sully, soil; I. iii. 228. 
 Snipe, simpleton; (F. 1, "Snpe" ; 
 
 F. 2, "a Swaine"; Ff. 3, 4, "a 
 
 Swain"); I. iii. 397. 
 Snorting, snoring; I. i. 90. 
 Soft, mild, gentle; I. iii. 82. 
 Soft you, hold; V. ii. 338. 
 Something, somewhat; II. iii. 
 
 202. 
 
 Sorry, painful; (Qq., "sullen"; 
 Collier MS., "sudden") ; III. iv. 
 51. 
 
 Spake, said, affirmed; (Q. 3, 
 "speake") ; V. ii. 327. 
 
 Spartan dog, the dogs of Spar- 
 tan breed were fiercest; V. ii. 
 361. 
 
 Speak i' the nose, "the Neapoli- 
 tans have a singularly drawl- 
 ing nasal twang in the 
 utterance of their dialect; and 
 Shylock tells of "when the bag- 
 pipe sings i' the nose" 
 (Clarke); (Collier MS., 
 "squeak"; etc.) ; III. i. 5. 
 
 Speak parrot, talk nonsense; II. 
 iii. 286. 
 
 Speculative, possessing the 
 power of seeing; I. iii. 272. 
 
 Spend, waste, squander; II. iii. 
 198. 
 
Glossary 
 
 OTHELLO 
 
 Spleen, choler, anger; IV. i. 90. 
 Splinter, secure by splints; II. 
 iii. 336. 
 
 Squire, fellow; (used contemptu- 
 ously) ; IV. ii. 145. 
 
 Stand in act, are in action; I. i. 
 153. 
 
 Start, startle, rouse; I. i. 101. 
 Startingly, abruptly; (Ff. 3, 4, 
 
 " staring ly") ; III. iv. 79. 
 Stay, are waiting for; IV. ii. 170. 
 Stead, benefit, help; I. iii. 347. 
 Still, often, now and again; I. 
 
 iii. 147. 
 
 Stomach, appetite; V. ii. 75. 
 Stop; "your s.", the impediment 
 
 you can place in my way; V. 
 
 ii. 264. 
 
 Stoup, a vessel for holding li- 
 quor; II, iii. 31. 
 
 Stow'd, bestowed, placed; I. ii. 
 62. 
 
 Straight, straightway; I. i. 139. 
 Strain, urge, press; III. iii. 250. 
 Strangeness, estrangement; (Qq. 
 
 ''strangest") ; III. iii. 12. 
 Stuff o' the conscience, matter 
 
 of conscience; I. ii. 2. 
 Subdued, made subject; I. iii. 
 
 252. 
 
 Success, that which follows, con- 
 sequence; III. iii. 222. 
 
 Sudden, quick, hasty; II. i. 287. 
 
 Sufferance, damage, loss; II. i. 
 23. 
 
 Sufficiency, ability; I. iii. 225. 
 Sufficient, able; III. iv. 90. 
 Suggest, tempt; II. iii. 366. 
 Supersubtle, excessively crafty; 
 (Collier MS., "super-supple") ; 
 
 I. iii. 367. 
 
 Sweeting, a term of endearment; 
 
 II. iii. 255. 
 
 Swelling, inflated; II. iii. 58. 
 Sword of Spain ; Spanish swords 
 
 were celebrated for their ex- 
 cellence; V. ii. 253. 
 
 Ta'en order, taken measures; V. 
 
 ii. 72. 
 
 Ta'en out, copied; III. iii. 296. 
 Tainting, disparaging; II. i. 283. 
 Take out, copy; III. iv. 177. 
 Tare up at the best, make the 
 
 best of; I. iii. 173. 
 Talk, talk nonsense; IV. iii. 25. 
 Talk me, speak to me; III. iv. 
 
 91. 
 
 Tells o'er, counts; III. iii. 169. 
 Theoric, theory; I. i. 24. 
 Thick-lips; used contemptuously 
 
 for "Africans"; I. i. 66. 
 Thin, slight, easily seen through; 
 
 I. iii. 108. 
 Thread, thread of life; V. ii. 
 
 206. 
 
 Thrice-driven, "referring to the 
 selection of the feathers by 
 driving with a fan, to separate 
 the light from the heavy" 
 (Johnson); I. iii. 233. 
 
 Thrive in, succeed in gaining; I. 
 
 iii. 125. 
 
 Time, life; I. i. 163. 
 Timorous, full of fear; I. i. 75. 
 Tire, make tired, weary out; II. 
 i. 65. 
 
 Toged, wearing the toga; I. i. 25. 
 Told, struck, counted; (Ff. 3, 4, 
 
 "toll'd") ; II. ii. 12. 
 Toy, fancy; III. iv. 153. 
 Toys, trifles; I. iii. 270. 
 Trash, worthless thing, dross; II. 
 
 i. 320. 
 
 , keep back, hold in check, (a 
 
 hunter's term) ; II. i. 320. 
 
 Traverse, march, go on; I. iii. 
 384. 
 
 Trimm'd in, dressed in, wearing; 
 I. i. 50. 
 
 174 
 
THE MOOR 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Tukn,; "t. thy complexion," 
 change color; IV. ii. 62. 
 
 Unblest, accursed; II. iii. 317. 
 Unbonneted, without taking off 
 
 the cap, on equal terms; I. ii. 
 
 23. 
 
 Unbookish, ignorant; IV. i. 103. 
 Uncap able, incapable; IV. ii. 
 238. 
 
 Undertaker; "his u.", take 
 
 charge of him, dispatch him; 
 
 IV. i. 223. 
 Unfold, reveal, bring to light; 
 
 IV. ii. 141. 
 Unfolding, communication; I. 
 
 iii. 24G. 
 
 Unhandso3ie, unfair; III. iv. 
 148. 
 
 Unhatch'd, undisclosed; III. iv. 
 138. 
 
 Unhoused, homeless, not tied to 
 a household and family; I. ii. 
 26. 
 
 Unlace, degrade; II. iii. 197. 
 Unpeiifectness, imperfection; II. 
 iii. 304. 
 
 Unpbovide, make unprepared ; 
 IV. i. 217. 
 
 Unsure, uncertain; III. iii. 151. 
 
 Unvarnish'u, plain, unadorned; 
 I. iii. 90. 
 
 Unwitted, deprived of under- 
 standing; II. iii. 18,' 
 
 Upon, incited by, urged by; I. i. 
 100. 
 
 Use, custom; IV. i. 284. 
 Uses, manners, habits; (Q. 1, 
 "vsage") ; IV. iii. 106. 
 
 Vantage; "to the v.", over and 
 
 above; IV. iii. 86. 
 Vessel, body; IV. ii. 83. 
 Vesture, garment; II. i. 64. 
 Violence, bold action; I. iii. 251. 
 
 Virtuous, having efficacy, powers 
 
 ful; III. iv. 108. 
 Voices, votes; I. iii. 262. 
 Vouch, assert, maintain; I. iii. 
 
 103, 106. 
 
 , bear witness; I. iii. 26^. 
 
 , testimony; II. i. 150. 
 
 Wage, venture, attempt; I. iii. 30. 
 Watch, watchman; V. i. 37. 
 Watch him, keep him from 
 
 sleeping; a term in falconry; 
 
 III. iii. 23. 
 Wearing, clothes; IV. iii. 16. 
 Well said, well done; (Qq., "well 
 
 sed") ; II. i. 171. 
 What, who; I. i. 18. 
 Wheeling, errant ; (Q. 2, 
 
 "wheedling")-, I. i. 138. 
 Whipster, one who whips out 
 
 his sword; (used contemptu- 
 ously) ; V. ii. 244. 
 White, (used with a play upon 
 
 white and wight) ; II. i. 134. 
 Wholesome, reasonable; III. i. 
 
 49. 
 
 Wicker, covered with wicker- 
 work; (Ff. "Twiggen"); II. iii. 
 155. 
 
 Wight, person; (applied to both 
 sexes) ; II. i. 161. 
 
 Wind; "let her down the w."; 
 "the falconers always let the 
 hawk fly against the wind; if 
 she flies with the wind behind 
 her she seldom returns. If 
 therefore a hawk was for any 
 reason to be dismissed, she was 
 let down the wind, and from 
 that time shifted for herself 
 and preyed at fortune" (John- 
 son) ; III. iii. 262. 
 
 Wind-shaked, wind-shaken; II. i. 
 13. 
 
 With, by; II. i. 34. 
 
 Withal, with; I. iii. 93. 
 
 With all my heart, used both 
 
Glossary 
 
 OTHELLO 
 
 as a salutation, and also as a 
 reply to a salutation; IV. i. 
 228. 
 
 Within door; "speak w. d.", i. e. 
 "not so loud as to be heard 
 outside the house"; IV. ii. 144. 
 
 Woman'd, accompanied by a 
 woman; III. iv. 192. 
 
 Worser, worse; I. i. 95. 
 
 Wrench, wrest; (Q. 1, 
 
 "Wring") ; V. ii. 288. 
 Wretch, a term of endearment; 
 
 (Theobald, "wench"); III. iii. 
 
 90. 
 
 Wrought, worked upon; V. ii. 
 345. 
 
 Yerk'd, thrust; I. ii. 5. 
 
 Yet, as yet, till now; III. iii. 432. 
 
 176 
 
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