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Oth. Oh villain!

Caf. Moft heathenish and most grofs !

Lod. Now, here's another difcontented paper,
Found in his pocket too; and this, it feems,
Rodorigo meant t'have sent this damned villain;
But that, belike, Iago in the interim
Came in and fatisfy'd him.

Oth. Oh thou pernicious caitiff?

How came you, Caffio, by that handkerchief
That was my wife's ?

Caf. I found it in my chamber;

And he himself confeft it but ev'n now,
That there he dropt it for a special purpose,
Which wrought to his defire.

Oth. Oh fool, fool, fool!

Caf. There is, befides, in Rodorigo's letter,
How he upbraids Iago that he made him
Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came
That I was caft; and even now he spake,
After long feeming dead, Jago hurt him,
Iago fet him on,

Lod. You must forfake this room, and go with us;
Your pow'r and your command is taken off,
And Caffio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,

If there be any cunning cruelty,

That can torment him much, and hold him long,
It fhall be his, You fhall close prifoner reft,
Till that the nature of your fault be known
To the Venetian ftate, Come, bring him away.
Oth. Boft you; a word or two, before you go.
I've done the ftate fome fervice, and they know't;
No more of that. I pray you, in your letters,
When you shall thefe unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me, as I am : Nothing extenuate,
Nor fet down aught in malice. Then muft you speak
Of one that lov'd, not wifely, but too well;
Of one, not eafily jealous; but being wrought,

Perplex'd in the extream; of one, whofe hand, (30)


of one, whofe band,

Like the bafe Indian, threw a Pearl away


Like the bafe Judian, threw a pearl away
Richer than all his tribe; of one, whofe eyes,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinal gum. Set you down this :
And fay befides, that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the State,
I took by th' throat the circumcifed dog,
And fmote him thus.

Lod. Oh bloody period!

Gra. All, that is spoke, is marr'd.
Oth. I kift thee, ere I kill'd thee.-No

Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

[Stabs himself.


but this,

[To Defdem. [Dies.

Richer than all his Tribe.] I have reftored, Judian, from the Elder Quarto, as the genuine and more eligible Reading. Mr. Pope thinks, this was occafioned probably by the Word Tribe just after: I have many Reasons to oppofe to this Opinion. In the first Place, the moft ignorant Indian, I believe, is fo far the Reverse of the Dungbil Cock in the Fable, as to know the Estimation of a Pearl, beyond that of a Barley-corn. So that, in that refpect, the Thought itfelf would not be juft. Then, if our Author had defigned to refect on the Ignorance of the Indian without any farther Reproach, he would have called him rude, and not, bafe. Again, I am perfuaded, as my Friend Mr. Warburton long ago obferved, the Phrafe is not here literal, but metaphorical: and, by his Pearl, our Author very properly means a fine Woman. But Mr. Pope objects farther to reading Judian, because, to make Senfe of this, we muft pre-suppose some particular Story of a Jew alluded to; which is much lefs obvious: But has Shakespeare never done this, but in this fingle Inftance? I am fatisfied, in his Judian, he is alluding to Herod; who, in a Fit of blind Jealoufy, threw away fuch a Jewel of a Wife as Mariamne was to him. What can be more parallel in Circumstance, than the Conduct of Herod and Othello? Nor was the Story fo little obvious, as Mr. Pope feems to imagine: For, in the Year 1613, the Lady Elizabeth Carew published a Tragedy, called MARIAM, the fair Queen of JEWRY. I fhall only add, that our Author might write Judian, or Judean, (if that fhould be alledged as any Objection) instead of Judean, with the fame License and Change of Accent, as, in his Antony and Cleopatra, he fhortens the fecond Syllable of Euphrates in Pronunciation which was a Liberty likewife taken by Spencer, of whom our Author was a ftudious Imitator.

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Caf. This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon, For he was great of heart. Lod. Oh Spartan dog!

[To Iago.

More fell than anguish, hunger, or the fea!
Look on the tragick loading of this bed;
This is thy work; the object poifons fight,
Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,
And feize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
For they fucceed to you. To you, Lord Governor,
Remains the cenfure of this hellish villain :
The time, the place, the torture, oh! inforce it.
Myself will straight aboard; and to the State
This heavy act, with heavy heart, relate.









Collated by the EDITOR.


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