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To mourn a mischief that is past and gone,
Bra. So, let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile,
(10) But Words are Words; I never yet did hear,
Thai the bruis'd Heart was pierced thro' the Ear.] One fuperfiuous Letter has for these hundred Years quite subverted the Sense of this Passage ; and none of the Editors have ever attended to the Reasoning of the Context, by which they might have discover'd the Error. The Duke has by sage Seotences been exhorting Brabantio. to Patience, and to forget the Grief of his Daughter's foln Marriage, to which Brabantio is made very pertinently to reply, to this ef. fect: “ My Lord, I apprehend very well the Wi dom of your • Advice; but tho' you would comfort me, Words are but “ Words; and the Heart, already bruis’d, was never pieri'd, 6 or wounded, thro' the Ear," Well! If we want Argu. ments for a Senator, let him be educared at the feet of our fagacious Editors. It is obvious, I believe, to my better Readers, that the Text must be refor’d, as Mr. Warburton acutely oblery'd to me.
That the bruis’d Heart was pieced thro' the Ear. i, e. That the Wounds of Sorrow were ever cur'd, or a Maa made heart-whole meerly by Words of Consolation. I ought to take notice, this very Emendation was likewise communicated to me by an ingenious, unknown, Correspondent, who Subscribes himself only L. H.
Duke. The Turk with a moft mighty preparation makes for Cyprus : Othello, the fortitude 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 safe voice on you; you must therefore be content to slubber the gloss of your new fortunes, with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition.
Oth. The tyrant custom, most grave fenators,
Duke. Why, at her father's.
Del. Nor would I there reside,
Duke. What would you, Desdemona ?
Def. That I did love the Moor to live with him,
By his dear absence. Let me go with him.
Oth. Your voices, lords ; beseech you, let her will
I therefore beg it not
But to be free and bounteous to her Mind.) As this has been all along hitherto printed and stop'd, it seems to me a Period of as ftubborn Nonsense, as the Editors have obtruded upon poor Shakespeare throughout his whole Works. What a preposterous Creature is this Othello made, to fall in Love with, and marry, a fine young Lady, when Appetite and Heas, and proper Satisfaétion are dead and defun& in him! (For, defund fignifies nothing else, that I know of, either primitive ly or meraphorically: ) But if we may take Othello's own Word in the Affair, when he speaks for himself, he was not reduc'd to this fatal, unperforming, State.
for, for I am declin'd
Into the Vale of Tears; yet That's not much. Again, Why should our Poet say, (for so he says, as the Parfage has been pointed;) that the young affeHeat? Youth, cer. tainly, has it, and has no occasion or Pretence of afecting it, whatever luperannuated Lovers may have. And, again, after defun&t, would he add so absurd a collateral Epithet as proper? But, I think, I may venture to affirm, that affects was not defign'd here as a Veib; and that defun&t was not design'd here at all. I have, by a slight Change, rescued the Poet's Text from Abfurdity; and this I take to be the Tenour of what he would say,
“I do not beg her Company with me, merely to « please myself; nor to indulge the Heat and Affect, (is e. Af.
fections) of a new-married Man, in my own diftin&t and
proper Satisfa&ion; but to comply with her in her Request, " and Delise, of accompanying me. Affets, for Affections, our Author in several other Passages uses.
For she is with me. —No, when light-wing'd toys
Duke. Be it as you shall privately determine,
Dej. To night, my lord ?
Duke. At nine i'th' morning here we'll meet again.
Oth. Please your Grace, my Ancient;
Duke. Let it be so ;
Sen. Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well.
Bra. Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see,
[Exit Duke, with Senators.
Manent Rodorigo and Iago.
lago. Well, if thou doft, I shall never love thee after. Why, thou filly gentleman !
Rod. It is filliness to live, when to live is a torment; and then have we a prescription to die, when death is our physician.
Tago. O villainous! I have look'd upon the world for four times seven years, and since I could distinguish be. twixt a benefit and an injury, I never found man that knew how to love himself. Fre I would say, I would drown my self for the love of a Guinney-hen, I would change my humanity with a baboon.
Rod. What should I do? I confess, it is my shame to be fo fond, but it is not in my virtue to amend it.
lago. Virtue ? a fig : 'tis in our felves that we are thus orthus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardiners. So that if we will plant nettles, or fow lettuce; set hyffop, and weed up thyme ; supply it with one gerder of herbs, or distract it with many ; either have it fteril with idleness, or manured with induftry; why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our will. (12) If the beam of our lives had not
(12) If the Balance of our Lives had not one Scale of Reason to prise another of Sen 'uality.) i. e. If the Scale of our Lives had not one Scale, &c. which must certainly be wrong. Some of the old Quarto's have it thus, but the two elder for lio's read,
If the Braine of our Lives had not one Scale, &c. This is corrupt; and I make no doubt but Shakespeare wrote, as I have reform'd the Text,
If the Beame of our Lives, &c. And Reason is this, that he generally diftinguishes betwixo