thy difcreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed. And what delight fhall fhe have to look on the Devil? (16) when the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there fhould be again to inflame it, and to give Satiety a fresh appetite, lovelinefs in favour, fympathy in years, manners, and beauties; all which the Moor is defec tive in. Now, for want of these requir'd conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find it felf abus'd, begin to heave the gorge, difrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will inftruct her in it, and compel her to fome fecond choice. Now, Sir, this granted, (as it is a most pregnant and unforc'd pofition) who stands fo eminent in the degree of this fortune, as Caffio does? a knave very voluble; no further confcionable, than in putting on the meer form of civil and humane Seeming, for the better compaffing of his falt and moft hidden loose affection; a flippery and fubtile knave, a finder of occafions, that has an eye can ftamp and counterfeit advantages, tho' true advantage never prefent it felf. A devilish knave! befides, the knave is handfom, young, and hath all thofe requifites in him, that folly and green minds look after. A peftilent compleat knave! and the woman hath found him already. Rod. I cannot believe that of her, the's full of most blefs'd condition. (16) When the Blood is made dull with the Act of Sport, there fhould be a Game to inflame it, and to give Satiety a fre Appetite; loveliness in Favour, Sympathy in Tears, Manners, and Beauties.] This, 'tis true, is the Reading of the Generality of the Copies: but, methinks, 'tis a very peculiar Experiment, when the Blood and Spirits are dull'd and exhaufted with Sport, to raise and recruit them by Sport: for Sport and Game are but two Words for the fame thing. I have retriev'd the Pointing and Reading of the elder Quarto, which certainly gives us the Poet's Senfe; that when the Blood is dull'd with the Exercife of Pleasure, there fhould be pro per Incentives on each fide to raile it again, as the Charms of Beauty, Equality of Years, and Agreement of Mancers and Difpofition: which are wanting in Othello to rekindle Defde mona's Paffion. VOL. VIII. M Iago. Jago. Blefs'd figs' end! the wine fhe drinks is made of grapes. If he had been blefs'd, fhe would never have lov'd the Moor: Blefs'd pudding! didst thou not fee her paddle with the palm of his hand ? didst not mark that? · Rod. Yes, that I did; but that was but courtefie. lago. Letchery, by this hand; an index, and obfcure prologue to the hiftory of luft, and foul thoughts. They met fo near with their lips, that their breaths embrac❜d together. Villanous thoughts, Rodorigo! when these mutualities fo marshal the way, hard at hand comes the mafter and main exercife, the incorporate conclufion: pish-But, Sir, be you rul'd by me. I have brought you from Venice. Watch you to night; for the command, I'll lay't upon you. Caffio knows you not: I'll not be far from you. Do you find fome occafion to anger Caffio, either by speaking too loud, or tainting his difcipline, or from what other courfe you please, which the time fhall more favourably minifter. Rod. Well. lago. Sir, he's rash, and very fudden in choler: and, happily, may ftrike at you. Provoke him, that he may; for even out of that will I caufe those of Cyprus to mutiny whofe qualification fhall come into no true taste again, but by tranfplanting of Caffio. So fhall you have a fhorter journey to your defires, by the means I fhall then have to prefer them: And the impediments most profitably removed, without which there was no expectation of our profperity. Rod. I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity. Iago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel. I must fetch his neceffaries afhore, Farewel. Rod. Adieu. Manet Iago. [Exit. Jago. That Caffio loves her, I do well believe: That the loves him, 'tis apt, and of great credit. The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, Is of a conftant, loving, noble nature; For that I do fufpect, the lufty Moor Hath leapt into my feat. The thought whereof That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do, (17) Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me, And practifing upon his peace and quiet, If this poor Trash of Venice, whom I trace For his quick hunting, ftand the putting on.] A trifling, infignificant Fellow may, in some Respects, very well be cafl'd Trash: but what Confonance of Metaphor is there betwixt Trash, and quick hunting, and standing the putting on? The Allufion to the Chafe SHAKESPEARE feems to be fond of applying to Roderigo, who fays of himself towards the Conclufion of this Act; I follow her in the Chase, not like a Hound that hunts, bu one that fills up the Cry. I have a great Sufpicion, therefore, that the Poet wrote 5 If this poor Brach of Venice, which, we know, is a degenerate Species of Hound, and a Term generally us'd in Contempt: and this compleats and perfects the metaphorical Allufion, and makes it much mote Satirical. Mr. Warburton. Even to madness. 'Tis here but yet confus'd ; Knavery's plain face is never feen, till us'd. Her. SCENE, the STREET. Enter Herald with a Proclamation. [Exit. 'Tis Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant General, that upon certain tidings now arriv'd, importing the meer perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into triumph fome to dance, fome to make bonfires, each man to what fport and revels 'his mind leads him. For, befides this beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptials. So much was his pleafure, fhould be proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full liberty of fealling, from this present hour Bless the iflé of of five, 'till the bell have told eleven. Cyprus, and our noble General Othello! SCENE, the CASTLE. Enter Othello, Defdemona, Caffio, and Attendants. Oth. OOD Michael, look you to the guard to night, G°° Let's teach our felves that honourable stop, Caf. Iago hath direction what to do: But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye Oth. Iago is most honeft : Michael, good-night. To morrow, with your earliest, Let me have fpeech with you. Come, my dear love, The purchase made, the fruits are to enfue; That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you. Good-night. [Exeunt Othello and Defdemona. Enter Iago. Caf. Welcome, Iago; we must to the Watch. clock. clock. Our General caft us thus early for the love of his Defdemona: whom let us not therefore blame; he hath not yet made wanton the night with her and she is fport for fove." Caf. She's a moft exquifite lady. Iago. And, I'll warrant her, full of game. Caf. Indeed, fhe's a moft fresh and delicate creature. Iago. What an eye fhe has methinks, it founds a parley to provocation. Caf. An inviting eye; and yet, methinks, right mo deft. Iago. And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love? Caf. She is, indeed, perfection. Iago. Well, happiness to their fheets: come, lieutenant, I have a ftoop of wine, and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants, that would fain have a measure to the health of the black Othello. Caf. Not to night, good lago; I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. I could well wish, courtefie would invent some other custom of entertain ment. Tago. Oh, they are our friends: but one cup; I'll drink for you. Caf. I have drunk but one cup to night, and that was craftily qualified too: and, behold, what innovation it makes here. I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more. lago. What, man? 'tis a night of revels, the gallants defire it. Caf. Where are they? lago. Here at the door; I pray you, call them in. Caf. I'll do't, but it dislikes me. [Exit Caffio. Iago. If I can faften but one cup upon him, With that which he hath drunk to night already, As my young mistress' dog. Now, my fick fool, Rodrigo, Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong fide out, To Desdemona hath to night carouz'd M 3 Potations |