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learn of him, Emilia, tho' he be thy husband. (15) How fay you, Caffio is he not a moft profane and liberal cenfurer ?

Caf. He fpeaks home, Madam; you may relish him more in the foldier, than in the fcholar.

Iago. [Afide.] He takes her by the palm; ay, well faid whifper With as little a web as this, will I enfnare as great a fly as Caffio. Ay, fmile upon her, do

I will gyve thee in thine own courtship. You fay true, 'tis fo, indeed.-If fuch tricks as thefe ftrip you out of your lieutenancy, it had been better you had not kifs'd your three fingers fo oft, which now again you are most apt to play the Sir in. Very good-well kifs'd, and excellent courtesy- -'tis fo, indeed Yet

again your fingers to your lips? 'would, they were
clifter-pipes for your fake.
The Moor,
Caf. 'Tis truly fo.

-I know his trumpet.

Def. Let's meet him, and receive him.

Caf. Lo, where he comes!

Enter Othello and Attendants.

Oth. Oh my fair warrier!

Def. My dear Othello!

Oth. It gives me wonder,

great as my content,

To fee you here before me. O my foul's joy!

If after ev'ry tempeft come fuch calms,

May the winds blow 'till they have waken'd death:
And let the labouring bark climb hills of feas
Olympus high; and duck again as low

As hell's from heav'n! If I were now to die,
'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,
My foul hath her content fo abfolute,

(15) How fay you, Caffio? Is he not a most profare and liberal Counsellor? But in what Respect was lago a Counsellor? He caps Sentences, indeed; but they are not by way of Advice, but Defcrip tion: what he fays, is, Reflexions on Character and Conduct in Life. For this Reafon, I am very apt to think, our Author wrote Cenfurer.


That not another comfort like to this

Succeeds in unknown fate.

Def. The heav'ns forbid,

But that our loves and comforts fhould encrease,
Ev'n as our days do grow!

Oth. Amen to that, fweet Powers!

I cannot speak enough of this content,
It stops me here: it is too much of joy.

And this, and this, the greatest difcords be [Kissing her.
That e'er our hearts fhall make!

Iago. Oh, you are well-tun'd now; but I'll let down the pegs that make this mufic, as honeft as I am.

[Afide. Now, friends, our wars are done; the Turks are drown'd. How do our old acquaintance of this ifle? Honey, you fhall be well defir'd in Cyprus,

Oth. Come, let's to the caftle.

I've found great love amongst them.

I prattle out of fashion, and I dote

Oh my fweet,

In mine own comfort. Pr'ythee, good Iago,
Go to the bay, and disembark my coffers:
Bring thou the master to the citadel,

He is a good one, and his worthiness.

Does challenge much refpect. Come, Desdemona,
Once more well met at, Cyprus.

[Exeunt Othello and Defdemona,

Manent lago and Rodorigo.

Iago. Do you meet me presently at the harbour. Come thither, if thou be'ft valiant; (as, they fay, base. men, being in love, have then a nobility in their natures, more than is native to them)- -lift me; the lieutenant to-night watches on the Court of Guard. First, I must tell thee, this Desdemona is directly in love with him.

Rod. With him? why, 'tis not poffible?

Iago. Lay thy fingers thus; and let thy foul be inftructed. Mark me with what violence the firft lov'd the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her fantaftical Hes. And will the love him ftill for prating? let not


Her eye must be fed.

thy difcreet heart think it. And what delight fhall fhe have to look on the Devil? (16) when the blood is made dull with the act of fport, there fhould be again to inflame it, and to give fatiety a fresh appetite, lovelinefs in favour, fympathy in years, manners, and beauties; all which the Moor is defective in. Now, for want of these requir'd conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find itfelf abus'd, begin to heave the gorge, difrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will inftru&t 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 ftands fo eminent in the degree of this fortune, as Caffio does? a knave very voluble; no further confcionable, than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane feeming, for the better compaffing of his falt and moft hidden loofe affection; a flippery and fubtile knave, a finder of occafions, that has an eye can ftamp and counterfeit advantages, tho' true advantage never prefent itself. 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 knavę ! and the woman hath found him already.

Rod. I cannot believe that of her, fhe's full of moft blefs'd condition.

Iago. Blefs'd figs' end! the wine the drinks is made of grapes. If he had been blefs'd, she would never have

(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 fresh Appetite; Lovelines in Faveur, Sympathy in Years, 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 raife 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 Pleafure, there should be proper Incentives on each fide to raise it again, as the Charms of Beauty, Equality of Years, and Agreement of Manners and Difpofition: which are wanting in Othello to rekindle Defdemona's Paffion.




lov'd the Moor: Blefs'd pudding! didft thou not fee her paddle with the palm of his hand? didft not mark that?

Rod. Yes, that I did; but that was but courtefy.

Iago. 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. Villainous thoughts, Rodorigo! when these mutualities fo marfhal 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. Cafio knows you not : I'll not be far from you. Do you find fome occafion to anger Caffio, either by fpeaking too loud, or tainting his difcipline, or from what other course you please, which the time fhall more favourably minifter.

Rod. Well.


Tago. Sir, he's rash, and very fudden in choler: and, haply, may ftrike at you. Provoke him, that he may; for even out of that will I caufe thofe 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 muft fetch his neceffaries afhore. Farewel. Rod. Adieu.


Manet Iago.

Iago That Caffio loves her, I do well believe :
That he loves him, 'tis apt, and of great credit.
The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,
Is of a conftant, loving, noble nature;
And, I dare think, he'll prove to Desdemona

A most dear husband. Now I love her too,
Not out of abfolute luft, (though, peradventure,
I ftand accountant for as great a fin;)
But partly led to diet my revenge,

For that I do fufpect, the lufty Moor

Hath leapt into my feat. The thought whereof
Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards,
And nothing can, or fhall, content my foul,
Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife.

Or failing fo, yet that I put the Moor

At laft into a jealousy so strong,

That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do, (17) If this poor brach of Venice, whom I trace

For his quick hunting, ftand the putting on,

I'll have our Michael Caffio on the hip,

Abuse him to the Moor in the right garb;

(For I fear Cafio with my night-cap too,)

Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me, For making him egregiously an afs;

And practifing upon his peace and quite,

Even to madnefs. "Tis here--but yet confus'd;
Knavery's plain face is never seen, till us'd.

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If this poor Trash of Venice, whom I trace.


For his quick hunting, ftand the putting on.] A. trifling, infignificant Fellow may, in fome Refpects, very well be call'd Trash: but what Confonance of Metaphor is there betwixt Trash, and quick hunting, and flanding the putting on? The Allufion to the Chafe SHAKESPEARE feems to be fond of applying to Rodrigo, who fays of himself towards the Conclufion of this A&;

I follow her in the Chafe, not like a Hound that hunts, but one that fills up the Cry.

I have a great Sufpicion, therefore, that the Poet wrote;

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 more Satirical.

Mr. Warburtone

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