/ ixt- DESDEMONA Y Booklgvers Ecfi iion V M^illian\S]\cil^spGarQ •mri^lYli>;6rocruc^iorxs •V^otcs, Glossary, t^ri^ical C7on\n\Gr\jt aryjf •AtotYxptfof Stud X}\Q Ui\iver»si^y Soci New York. Copyright, 1 90 1 By THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY COLLEG LIBRARY Pi? THE TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO. /^ ' ^ Preface. 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. | As it hath bccnc diners times acted at the \ Globe, and at the Black-Friers, by | his Maiesties Scruants. \ 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." * In 1623 appeared the First Folio, containing Othello among the ''Tragedies" (pp. 310-339) ; the text, how- ever, 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 fifteen 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' Regis- * Prefixed to this First Quarto were the following lines : — " The Stationer to the Reader. '' To set forth a booke without an Epistle, zvere like to the old English protierhe, A blew coat without a badge, &- the Author being dead, I thought good to take that piece of u'orke upon mee: To commend it, I will not, for that which is good I hope euery matt will commend, without interaty: and I am the bolder, because the author s name is sufUcient to vent his worke. Thus leauing cuery one to the liberty of iudgcment: I haue ventTred to print this plav, and Icaue it to the generall censure. Yours, Thomas Walkley." Preface TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO. tcr that it remained his property until March ist, 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. This last point has an impor- tant 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 evidence seem in favour of 1604 as the birth-year of the tragedy, and this date has been generally accepted since the publication of the Vari- onim Shakespeare of 1821, wherein Malone's views in favour of that year were set forth (Alalone 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 knezv this important fact, until at last, about the year 1840, Peter Cunningham announced his discovery of certain Accounts of the Revels at Court, con- taining 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].'"* 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 *v. Shakespeare Society Puhlications, 1842. THE MOOR OF VENICE Preface yields is genuine, and that Malone had some such entry in his possession when he wrote his emphatic statement (z'ide Grant White's account of the whole story, quoted in Furness' Varionun edition ; cp. pp. 351-357). The older school of critics, and Malone himself at first, assigned the play to circa 161 1 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 161 1 ; Malone, however, in his later edition of the play aptly quoted a passage from the Essays of Sir William Comwallis, the younger, published in 1601, which may have suggested the thought to Shakespeare: — ''They (our forefathers) had zi'ont to give their hands and their hearts together, hut zee think it a finer grace to look asquint, our hand' looking one zvay, and our heart another." The Original 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 chief est pan Wherein, beyond the rest, he mov'd the heart, The grieved Moor, made jealous by a slave, Who sent his wife to till a timeless grave. Then slew himself upon the bloody bed. All these and many more zvith him are dead." * The Source of the Plot. The story of ' // Moro di Venezia ' was taken from the Heccatommithi of the Italian novelist Giraldi Cinthio ; it is the seventh tale of the third deca,de, which deals with " The unfaithfulness of Hus- bands and Wives." No English translation of the novel * Z'. Ingleby's Centurie of Prayse (New Shak. Soe.), 2nd edi- tion, p. 131, where the elegy is discussed, and a truer version printed. Preface TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO. existed in Shakespeare's time (at least we know of none), but a French translation appeared in the year 1584, and through this medium the work may have come to Eng- land. 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 (strazu- berries in the description of Desdemona'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 learnt the true story of his Othello from some of the distinguished Venetians in England ; '' Cin- thio's novel would never have sufficed him for his Othello "* (z'ide Fumess, pp. 372-389. Knowing, how- ever, Shakespeare's transforming power, w^e may well maintain that, without actual knowledge of Christopher ]\Ioro's history, he was capable of creating Othello from Cinthio's savage Moor, lago from the cunning cowardly ensign of the original, the gentle lady Desdemona from " the virtuous lady of marvellous beauty, named Disde- * The title of the novel summarises its contents as follows : — " A Moorish Captain takes to a 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 adul- terer : 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 himself a miserable death." THE MOOR OF VENICE Preface mona (i.e. 'the hapless one'),"* 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- rorf has become the subtlest of tragedies — " perhaps the greatest work in the world. "J; " The most pathetic of human compositions. "§ " 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." * This is the only name given by Cinthio. 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 marries Othello, an old Gefman soldier." The name " lago " also occurs in the book. It is also found in " The first and second part of the History of the famous Euordanus, Prince of Den- mark. With the strange adventures of lago, Prince of Saxonie: and of both their several fortunes in Love. At London, 1605." t Mrs. Jameson rightly calls attention to a striking incident of the origmal story : — Desdemona does not accidentally drop the handkerchief: it is stolen from her by lago's little child, an irifant 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. X Macaulay. § 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's Othello, pp. 407-453.) Preface TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO, Duration of Action. The action seems to cover three days : — Act L, 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, pro- pounded by Halpin and Wilson ; according 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 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. THE MOOR OF VENICE Critical Comments. I. Argument. I, Desdemoiia, a beautiful and high-born Venetian maiden, is wooed and won by Othello, a Moorish gen- eral, whose dusky skin cannot conceal a chivalrous and adventurous spirit such as women love. Desdemona's father, Brabantio, learning of their secret marriage, is much incensed and goes before the Duke of Venice and complains that his daughter has been stolen from him. But it so happens that Othello's warlike qualities are in demand upon the very night in which these affairs cul- minate. He has been in the service of the Venetian government, and the state now requires his presence in Cypress to oppose a Turkish fleet. He is therefore suf- fered to depart in peace with his wife Desdemona, espe- cially since she, in the council chamber, declares her love and confidence in him. II. lago, Othello's ancient or ensign, has sworn se- cret enmity against his master because the Moor raised Cassio instead of himself to the chief Heutenancy. The enmity has taken the form of carefully laid plots, which began with the very nuptial night of Othello. In Cyprus, whither Othello and his train repair, the plots have abundant time for ripening. A storm has wrecked the Turkish fleet, and Othello remains in command on land amid a general revelry, authorized by him, to cele- brate the dispersion of the enemy and in honor of his own nuptials. During the feasting lago makes Cassio drunk and involves him in a street brawl. Othello ar- rives on the scene and deprives the officer of his lieuten- ancy. 7 Comments TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO, IIL lago advises Cassio to sue for favor and restora- tion of rank through Desdemona, since Othello will deny her nothing. Cassio, unsuspicious of treachery, obtains an interview with her, and lago lures Othello to the scene — innocent enough, but greeted by lago with an ominous shake of the head. Othello, seeing the ges- ture, questions his ensign, whereupon the latter instils the poison of jealousy into his master's ears, making him to doubt Desdemona's relations with Cassio. The doubt is intensified when that lady, in the kindness of her heart, intercedes for Cassio. Henceforward lago loses no opportunity to add to his master's jealousy. He procures by stealth a handkerchief given by Othello to Desdemona, and causes it to be found in Cassio's pos- session. IV. Othello becomes convinced that his wife has been untrue to him. He determines upon her death, and charges his supposed friend lago with the task of despatching Cassio. Nothing loth, lago embroils Cas- sio in a night combat with Roderigo, a former suitor of Desdemona's, entangled in the meshes of lago. V. Cassio wounds Roderigo. lago desires the death of both, and so, unseen, stabs Cassio. ^Meanwhile Othello goes to Desdemona's bedchamber and smothers her to death. Emilia, the wife of lago and devoted servant of Desdemona, proves to Othello that the wife he has just murdered is innocent. lago kills Emilia. Othello wounds lago, then kills himself. Cassio, who still lives, is advanced to the government of Cyprus, lago is reserved for lingering torture. IL lago and Roderigo. Admirable is the preparation, so truly and peculiarly Shakespearian, in the introduction of Roderigo, as the dupe on whom lago shall first exercise his art, and in 8 THE MOOR OF VENICE Comments so doing display his own character. Roderigo, without any fixed principle, but not without the moral notions and sympathies with honour, which his rank and con- nections had hung upon him, is already well fitted and predisposed for the purpose; for very want of character and strength of passion, like wnnd loudest in an empty house, constitute his character. The first three lines happily state the nature and foundation of the friendship between him and lago — the purse — as also the con- trast of Roderigo's intemperance of mind with lago's coolness — the coolness of a preconceiving experimenter. The mere language of protestation — If ever I did dream of such a matter, abhor me — wdiich 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 lago's mind, the dread of contempt habitual to those, who encourage in them- selves, and have their keenest pleasure in, the expression of contempt for others. Observe lago'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 : — And. by the faith of man, I know my place, I am worth no worse a place. I think Tyrwhitt's reading of " life " for " wife " — A fellow almost damn'd in a fair zvifc — the true one, as fitting to lago's contempt for whatever did not display power, and that intellectual power. In what follows, let the reader feel how by and through the glass of two passions, disappointed vanity and envy, the very vices of which he is complaining, are made to act upon him as if they were so many excellences, and the more appropriately, because cunning is always ad- mired and wished for bv minds conscious of inward V Comments TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO. weakness; — but they act only by half, like music on an inattentive auditor, swelling the thoughts which pre- vent him from listening to it. Coleridge: Notes and Lectures upon Shakespeare. Roderigo thinks he is buying up lago's talents and efiforts. This is just what lago 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 lago, 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. . . . Still, to make his scheme work, he must allege some reasons for his purpose touching the Moor: for Rod- erigo, 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 w^hich have led lago to cherish such designs. lago 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 therewithal assigns such grounds and motives as he knows will secure faith in his pretence; whereupon the other gets too warm with the anticipated fruits of his treachery to suspect any similar designs on himself. Wonderful indeed are the arts whereby the rogue wins and keeps his ascendancy over the gull! During their conversation, \\q can almost see the former worming himself into the latter, hke a corkscrew into a cork. Hudson : The Works of Shakespeare. lago has no other aim than his own advantage. It is the circumstance that not he, but Cassio, has been appointed second in command to Othello, which first sets his craft to work on subtle combinations. He 10 THE MOOR OF VENICE Comments coveted this post, and he will stick at nothing in order to win it. In the meantime, he takes advantage of every opportunity of profit that ofifers itself; he does not hesitate to fool Roderigo out of his money and his jewels. He is always masked in falsehood and hypoc- risy; and the mask he has chosen is the most impene- trable one, that of rough outspokenness, the straight- forward, honest bluntness of the soldier who does not care what others think or say of him. He never flatters Othello or Desdemona, or even Roderigo. He is the free-spoken, honest friend. He does not seek his own advantage without side- glances at others. He is mischievousness personified. He does evil for the pleasure of hurting, and takes active delight in the adversity and anguish of others. He is that eternal envy which merit or success in others never fails to irritate — not the petty envy which is con- tent with coveting anotfief's honours or possessions, or with holding itself more deserving of another's good fortune. No; he is an ideal personification. He is blear-eyed rancour itself, figuring as a great power — nay, as fJic motive force — in human life. He embodies the detestation for others' excellences which shows itself in obstinate disbelief, suspicion, or contempt; the in- stinct of hatred for all that is open, beautiful, bright, good, and great. Shakespeare not only knew that such wickedness exists; he seized it and set his stamo on it, to his eternal honour as a psychologist. Every one has heard it said that this tragedy is mag- nificent in so far as the true and beautiful characters of Othello and Desdemona are concerned; but lago — who knows him? — what motive underlies his conduct? — what can explain such wickedness? If only he had even been frankly in love with Desdemona, and therefore hated Othello, or had had some other incentive of a like nature ! II Comments TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO. Yes, if he had been the ordinary amorous villain and slanderer, everything would undoubtedly have been much simpler; but, at the same time, everything would have sunk into banality, and Shakespeare would here have been imequal to himself. No, no! precisely in this lack of apparent motive lies the profundity and greatness of the thing. Shakespeare understood this. lago in his monologues is incessantly giving himself reasons for his hatred. Elsewhere, in reading Shakespeare's monologues, we learn what the person really is; he reveals himself directly to us; even a villain like Richard III. is quite honest in his mono- logues. Not so lago. This demi-devil is always try- ing to give himself reason for his malignity, is always half fooling himself by dwelling* on half motives, in which he partly believes, but disbelieves in the main. Coleridge has aptly designated this action of his mind: " The motive-hunting of a motiveless malignity." Again and again he expounds to himself that he believes Othello has been too familiar with his wife, and that he will avenge the dishonour. He now and then adds, to ac- count for his hatred of Cassio, that he suspects him too of tampering with Emilia. He even thinks it worth while to allege, as a secondary motive, that he himself is enamoured of Desdemona. Brandes: JVilliitiii Shakespeare. in. Othello. Othello must not be considered as a negro, but a high and chivalrous Moorish chief. Shakespeare learned the spirit of the character from the Spanish poetry, which was prevalent in England in his time. Jealousy does not strike me as the point in his passion; I take it to be rather an agony that the creature, whom he had believed angelic, with whom he had garnered up his 12 THE MOOR OF VENICE Comments heart, and whom he could not help still loving, should be proved impure and worthless. It was the struggle not to love her. It was a moral indignation and regret that virtue should so fall: — " But' yet the pity of it, lago! — O lago! the pity of it, lago!" In addition to this, his honour was concerned: lago would not have suc- ceeded but by hinting that his honour was compro- mised. There is no ferocity in Othello; his mind is majestic and composed. He deliberately determines to die; and speaks his last speech with a view of showing his attachment to the Venetian State, though it had superseded him. Schiller has the material Sublime; to produce an effect, he sets you a whole town on fire, and throws infants with their mothers into the flames, or locks up a father in an old tower. But Shakespeare drops a handkerchief, and the same or greater effects follow. Lear is the most tremendous effort of Shakespeare as a poet; Hamlet as a philosopher or meditator; and Othello is the union of the two. There is something gigantic and unformed in the former two; but in the latter, everything assumes its due place and proportion, and the whole mature powers of his mind are displayed in admirable equilibrium Coleridge : Tabic Talk. Now what is Othello? He is night. An immense fatal figure. Night is amorous of day. Darkness loves the dawn. The African adores the white woman. Des- demona is Othello's brightness and frenzy! And then how easy to him is jealousy! He is great, he is digni- fied, he is majestic, he soars above all heads, he has as an escort bravery, battle, the braying of trumpets, the banner of war, renown, glory; he is radiant with twenty victories, he is studded with stars, this Othello: but he is black. And thus how soon, when jealous, the hero becomes monster, the black becomes the negro! How 13 Comments TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO. speedily has night beckoned to death! By the side of Othello, who is night, there is lago, who is evil. Evil, the other form of darkness. Night is but the night of the world; evil is the night of the soul. How deeply black are perfidy and falsehood! To have ink or treason in the veins is the same thing. Whoever has jostled against imposture and perjury knows it. One must blindly grope one's way with roguery. Pour hypocrisy upon the break of day, and you put out the sun, and this, thanks to false religions, happens to God. lago near Othello is the precipice near the landslip. '' This way! " he says in a low voice. The snare advises blindness. The being of darkness guides the black. Deceit takes upon itself to give what light may be re- quired by night. Jealousy uses falsehood as the blind man his dog. lago the traitor, opposed to whiteness and candour, Othello the negro, what can be more ter- rible! These ferocities of the darkness act in unison. These two incarnations of the eclipse comprise together, the one roaring, the other sneering, the tragic suffocation of light. Hugo: Jl'illiani Shakespeare. The Moor has for the most part been regarded as specially illustrating the workings of jealousy. Whether there be anything, 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 inscrutable practices in which his passion orig- inates. Instead of going behind the scene, and taking its grounds of judgement directly from, the subject hini- 14 THE MOOR OF VENICE Comments self, criticism has trusted overmuch in what is said of him by other persons in the drama, to whom he must perforce seem jealous, because they know and can know nothing of the devilish cunning that has been at work with him. And the common opinion has no doubt been much furthered by the stage; lago'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 honour for being taken in by him. It seems clear enough that a passion thus self-gener- ated and self-sustained ought not to be confounded with a state of mind superinduced, like Othello's, by forgery or external 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 grain of his mind and character. lago evidently knows this; knows the Moor to be incapable of spon- taneous distrust ; that he must see, before he '11 doubt : that when he doubts, he '11 prove ; and that when he has proved, he will retain his honour at all events, and retain his love, if it be compatible with honour. Accordingly, lest the Moor should suspect himself of jealousy, lago pointedly warns him to beware of it; puts him on his guard against such self-delusion, 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 honour; and lago's machinations 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 mastery of him. Such a character as his, so open, so generous, so confiding, is just the Comments TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO, one to be taken in the strong toils of lago's cunning; to have escaped them, would have argued him a par- taker of the strategy under which he falls. Hudson : The Works of Shakespeare. IV. Desdemona. At the period of the story a spirit of wild adventure had seized all Europe. The discovery of both Indies was yet recent; over the shores of the western hem- isphere still fable and mystery hung, with all their dim enchantments, visionary terrors, and golden promises! perilous expeditions and distant voyages were every day undertaken from hope of plunder, or mere love of en- terprise; and from these the adventurers returnd with tales of " antres vast and desarts wild — of cannibals that did each other eat — of Anthropophagi, and men whose heads did grow beneath their shoulders." With just such stories did Raleigh and Clifford, and their follow- ers, return from the New World: and thus by their splendid or fearful exaggerations, which the imperfect knowledge of those times could not refute, was the passion for the romantic and marvellous nourished at home, particularly among the women. A cavalier of those days had no nearer, no surer way to his mistress's heart than by entertaining her with these wondrous nar- ratives. What was a general feature of his time, Shak- speare seized and adapted to his purpose with the most exquisite felicity of effect. Desdemona, leaving her household cares in haste, to hang breathless on Othello's tales, was doubtless a picture from the life; and her inexperience and her quick imagination lend it an added propriety: then her compassionate disposition is inter- ested by all the disastrous chances, hair-breadth 'scapes, and moving accidents by flood and field, of which he has to tell ; and her exceeding gentleness and timidity, and i6 THE MOOR OF VENICE Comments iicr domestic turn of mind, render her more easily cap- tivated by the mihtary renown, the valour, and lofty bearing of the noble Moor. When Othello first outrages her in a manner which appears inexplicable, she seeks and finds excuses for him. She is so innocent that not only she cannot be- lieve herself suspected, but she cannot conceive the ex- istence of guilt in others. Something, sure, of state. Either from Venice, or some nnhatch'd practice Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, Hath puddled his clear spirit. 'T is even so — Nay, we must think, men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observances As fit the bridal. And when the direct accusation of crime is flung on her in the vilest terms, it does not anger but stun her, as if it transfixed her whole being; she attempts no reply, no defence; and reproach or resistance never enters her thought. And there is one stroke of consummate delicacy, sur- prising, when we remember the latitude of expression prevailing in Shakspeare's time, and which he allowed to his other women generally; she says, on recovering from her stupefaction — Desd. Am I that name, lago? I ago. What name, sweet lady? Desd. That which she says my lord did say I was. So completely did Shakspeare enter into the angelic refinement of the character. Endued with that temper which is the origin of super- stition in love as in religion — which, in fact, makes love itself a religion — she not only does not utter an up- braiding, Init nothing that Othello does or says, no out- rage, no injustice, can tear away the charm with which her imagination had invested him, or impair her faith 17 Comments TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO. in his honour. " Would you had never seen him! " ex- claims Emilia. Desd. So would not I ! — my love doth so appro\e hhn. That even his stubbornness, his checks and frowns Have grace and favour in them. There is another peculiarity, which, in reading the play of Othello, we rather feel than perceive: through the Vv^hole of the dialogue appropriated to Desdemona there is not one general observation. Words are with her the vehicle of sentiment, and never of reflection; so that I cannot find throughout a sentence of general applica- tion. Mrs. Jameson : Characteristics of Women. Emilia, Instrument of Nemesis. It is lago's own wife Emilia whose quick woman's wit is the first to pierce the web of intrigue, and stim- ulated by sight of her murdered mistress she gives her suspicions vent, though at the point of her husband's sword. The principle underlying this nemesis is one of the profoundest of Shakespeare's moral ideas — that evil not only corrupts the heart, but equally undermines the judgement. To lago is applicable the biting sen- tence of Junius'. "Virtue and simplicity have so long been synonymous that the reverse of the proposition has grown into credit, and every villain fancies himself a man of ability." It is because he knows himself un- fettered by scruples that lago feels himself infallible, and considers honest men fools; he never sees how his foul thoughts have bhnded his perceptive powers, and made him blunder where simple men would have gone straight. True, he brings infinite acuteness to bear upon the details of his intrigues; but he never perceives, what the reader sees at a glance, that the whole ground of his action i8 THE MOOR OF VENICE Comments in these intrigues — his suspicions that Emilia has been tampered with by Cassio and Othello — is a stupid mis- take, which no one with any wholesome knowledge of human nature would make. And the same want of in- sight into honest human nature, which made him set up his atrocious schemes, is the cause now of their fail- ure. He thought he had foreseen everything: it never occurred to him that his wife might betray him ivith nothing to gain by such betrayal, simply from affection and horror. I care not for thy sword ; I "11 make thee known, Though I lost twenty lives. — Help ! help, ho ! help ! The Moor hath kill'd my mistress ! In vain lago seeks to stop her mouth; a few words put all the suspicious circumstances together, until in rage and spite lago stabs Emilia, though the blow seals his own ruin. This detail is a fresh touch in the perfection of the nemesis upon lago: in a sense different from what he intended he is now " evened " with Othello, " wife for wife." The nemesis draws items of equal retribu- tion from all the intrigues of lago. It was on account of Emilia that he played the villain, and it is Emilia who betrays him. He had made a tool of Roderigo, and the contents of the dead Roderigo's pockets furnish the final links of evidence against him. His main purpose was to oust Cassio both from office and life: Cassio lives to succeed Othello as Governor, and make his first official act the superintendence of lago's torturing. MouLTON : Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist. VI. Other Characters, The subordinate figures are worked out with hardly less skill than the principal characters of the tragedy. Emilia especially is inimitable — good-hearted, honest, 19 Comments TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO, and not exactly light, but still sufficiently the daughter of Eve to be unable to understand Desdemona's naive and innocent chastity. At the end of Act IV. (in the bedroom scene) Desde- mona asks Emilia if she believes that there really are women who do what Othello accuses her of. Emilia answers in the affirmative. Then her mistress asks again: " Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world? " and receives the jesting answer, '' The world 's a huge thing; it is a great price for a small vice: — " Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint- ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition ; but, for the whole world ! . . . Why, the wrong is but a wrong i' the world ; and having the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and 3'OU might quickly make it right." In passages like this a mildly playful note is struck in the very midst of the horror. And according to his habit and the custom of the times, Shakespeare also in- troduces, by means of the Clown, one or two deliber- ately comic passages ; but the Clown's merriment is subdued, as Shakespeare's merriment at this period always is. Brandes : IVilliain Shakespeare. Cassio is an enthusiastic admirer, almost a worshipper, of Desdemona. O, that detestable code that excellence cannot be loved in any form that is female, but it must needs be selfish! Observe Othello's "honest," and Cassio's " bold " lago, and Cassio's full guilelcssdiearted wishes for the safety and love-raptures of Othello and " the divine Desdemona." And also note the exquisite circumstance of Cassio's kissing lago's wife, as if it ought to be impossible that the dullest auditor should not feel Cassio's religious love of Desdemona's purity, lago's answers are the sneers which a proud bad intel- lect feels towards women, and expresses to a wife. 20 THE MOOR OF VENICE Comments Surely it ought to be considered a very exalted compli- ment to women, that all the sarcasms on them in Shake- speare are put in the mouths of villains. Coleridge: Notes and Lectures upon Shakespeare. VII. Spiritual Import of the Play. Were Othello but the spirited portrait of a half-tamed barbarian, we should view him as a bold and happy poetical conception, and, as such, the Poet's work might satisfy our critical judgement; but it is because it depicts a noble mind, wrought by deep passion and dark devices to agonies such as every one might feel, that it awakens our strongest sympathies. We see in this drama a grand and true moral picture; we read in it a profound ethical lesson; for (to borrow the just image of the classical Lowth) while the matchless work is built up to the noblest height of poetry, it rests upon the deepest foun- dations of true philosophy. Verplanck : The Illustrated Shakespeare. The central point of its spiritual import lies in the contrast between lago and his victim. lago, with keen intellectual faculties and manifold culture in Italian vice, lives and thrives after his fashion in a world from which all virtue and all beauty are absent. Othello, with his bar- baric innocence and regal magnificence of soul, must cease to live the moment he ceases to retain faith in the purity and goodness which were to him the highest and most real things upon earth. Or if he live, life must become to him a cruel agony. Shakspere compels us to acknowledge that self-slaughter is a rapturous en- ergy — that such prolonged agony is joy in comparison with the earthy Hfe-in-death of such a soul as that of lago. The noble nature is taken in the toils because it 21 Comments is noble. lago suspects his wife of every baseness, but the suspicion has no other effect than to intensify his malignity. lago could not be captured and constrained to heroic suffering and rage. The shame of every be- ing who bears the name of woman is credible to lago, and yet he can grate from his throat the jarring music: — " And let me the canakin clink, clink ! And let me the canakin clink ! " There is, therefore, Shakspere would have us under- stand, something more inimical to humanity than suf- fering — namely, an incapacity for noble pain. To die as Othello dies is indeed grievous. But to live as lago lives, devouring the dust and stinging — this is more ap- palling. Such is the spiritual motive that controls the tragedy. And the validity of this truth is demonstrable to every sound conscience. No supernatural authority needs to be summoned to bear witness to this reality of human life. No pallid flame of hell, no splendour of dawning heaven, needs show itself beyond the verge of earth to illumine this truth. It is a portion of the ascertained fact of human nature, and of this our moral existence. DowDEN : Shakspere, 22 The Tragedy of Othello, The Moor of Venice. DRAMATIS PERSONAE. Duke of Venice. Brabantio^ 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 J-^enetia}! gentleman. Montano, Othello's predecessor in the government of Cyprus. Clown, servant to Othello. Desdemona, daughter to Brabantio and zvife to Othello. Emilia,, wife to lago. Bianca^ mistress to Cassio. Sailor, Messenger, Herald, Officers, Gentlemen, Musicians, and Attendants. Scene: Venice: a seaport in Cyprus. 24 o The Tragedy of Othello, The Moor of Venice. ACT FIRST. Scene I. Venice. A street. Enter Roderigo and lago. Rod. Tush, never tell me; I take it much unkindly That thou, lago, who hast had my purse As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this. lago. '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. lago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city. In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Of¥-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man, lo 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 stuff 'd 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 ; li.6* 25 Act I. Sc. i. TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO, 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 practice Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election: 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 By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster, 31 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 Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself Whether I in any just term am affined To love the Moor. Rod. I would not follow him then. 40 lago. O, sir, content you; follow him to serve my turrr upon him: We cannot all be masters, nor all masters I Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark J /Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, ^ V V That doting on his own obsequious bondage ' 3^^^ Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, ^^ For nought but provender, and when he 's old, ^^ P cashier'd: ^^ ^Vhip me such honest knaves. Others there are Mr ^ * AVho, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, 50 ^ (/ Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves, 9^ ^f And throwing but shows of service on their lords / 26 THE MOOR OF VENICE Act I. Sc. i. 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 lago: In following him, I follow but myself; Heaven is my judge, not I f on love and duty, But seeming so, for my p^qpnar end: 60 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. Rod. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe, If he can carry 't thus! lago. Call up her father, Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight, Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen. And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, 70 Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy, Yet throw such changes of vexation on 't As it may lose some colour. Rod. Here is her father's house; I. '11 call aloud. Jag^o. 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! ^* lago. Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves I thieves ! Look to your house, your daughter and your bags! Thieves! thieves! 81 27 Act I. Sc. i. TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO. Brabantio appears above, at a windozu. Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons? What is the matter there? Rod. Signior, is all your family within? I ago. Are your doors lock'd? Bra. Why, wherefore ask you this? I ago. '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 : w^iat 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 madness, Being full of supper and distempering draughts, Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come 100 To start my quiet. 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; 28 THE MOOR OF VENICE Act I. Sc. i. 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. Because we come to do you service and you think we are no ruffians, you '11 have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you '11 have coursers for cousins, and gennets for germans. Bra. What profane wretch art thou? lago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you youf daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs. Bar. Thou art a villain. lago. You are — a senator. 119 Bra. This thou slialt answer; I know thee, Roderigo. Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you, If 't be your pleasure and most wise consent, 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 130 We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe That, from the sense of all civility, I thus Vv'ould play and trifle with your reverence: Your daughter, if you have not given her leave, I say again, hath made a gross revolt, 29 Act I. Sc. i, TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO, 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, Let loose on me the justice of the state 140 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: Belief of it oppresses me already. Light, I sav! I Mit! [Exit above. I ago. 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, 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, 151 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; And there will I be with him. So farewell. [Exit. Enter hcloii', Brahantio, in Jiis night-gozvn, and Servants zi'ith torches. Bra. It is too true an evil: gone she is; 161 30 THE MOOR OF VENICE Act I. Sc. ii. 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 ! How didst thou know 'twas she ? O, she deceives 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. Bra. O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood! • 170 Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds By what you see them ai:t. Is there not charms By which the property of youth and maidhood May be abused? Have yoi\ not read, Roderigo, Of some such thing? Rod. Yes, sir, X 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 To get good guard and go along with me. 180 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. Scene II. Another street. Enter Othello, lago, and Attendants icith torches. lago. Though in the trade of war I have slain men, Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience 31 Act I. Sc. ii. TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO, 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. 0th. 'Tis better as it is. lagv. Nay, but he prated And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms Against your honour, That, with the httle godHness I have, I did full hard forbear him. But I pray you, sir, Are you fast married? Be assured of this, ii 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. 0th. Let him do his spite: My services, which I have done the signlory, Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know — Which, when I know that boasting is an honour, 20 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, lago. But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhoused free condition Put into a circumscription and confine For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come yond? lago. Those are the raised father and his friends: You were best go in. 32 THE MOOR OF VENICE Act I. 5c. ii. Oth. Not I; I must be found: 30 My parts, my title and my perfect soul, Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they? lago. By J anus, I thinkj ip. Enter Cassio, aiid certain Officers zvith torches. Oth. The servants of the duke, and my Heutenant. 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 appearance, 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 This very 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? lago. Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack: 50 If it prove lawful prize, he 's made for ever. Cas. I do not understand. V «- First Off. Tis true, most worthy signior; — The duke 's in council, and your noble self, -€c»-Ce<^ I am sure, is sent for. -^JUujtJix^ Bra. How! the duke in council! .Ju;x<>L>t^ In this time of the night! Bring him away: Qot^c^tL^\Sl/vaJ Mine 's not an idle cause : the duke himself, JL iR g. Or any of my brothers of the state, J^HJ^JiikS^iu^ Cannot but feel this w^rong as 'twxre their own; ^^~*~-^ For if such actions may have passage free. Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be. [Exeunt. 35 Act L Sc. iii. TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO. Scene IIL 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'd; 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 judgement: I do not so secure me in the error, lo But the main article I do approve In fearful sense. Sailor. [PVithin] What, ho! what, ho! what, ho! First Off. A messenger from the galleys. Filter Sailor. Duke. 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? First Sen. This cannot be, By no assay of reason: 'tis a pageant To keep us in false gaze. When we consider The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk, 20 36 THE MOOR OF VENICE Act I. Sc. iii. 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 unskilful To leave that latest which concerns him first. Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain, To wake and wage a danger profitless. 30 D^ikc. Nay, in all confidence, he 's not for Rhodes. First Off. Here is more news. Enter a Messcui^cr. Mess. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious. Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes, Have there injointed them with an after fleet. First Sen. Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess? Mess. Of thirty sail : and now they do re-stem Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano Your trusty and most valiant servitor, 40 With his free duty recommends you thus, And prays you to believe him. Ditke. '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 dispatch. First Sen. Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor. Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iai!;o, Roderigo, and Officers. Dnke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you Against the general enemy Ottoman. 37 Act I. Sc. iii. TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO, [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 general 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, And it is still itself. Duke. Why, what 's the matter? Bra. My daughter! O, my daughter! All. Dead? Bra. Ay, to me; She is abused, stol'n from me and corrupted 60 By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks; 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 OtJiello] What in your own part can you say to this? 38 THE MOOR OF VENICE Act I. Sc. iii. Bra. Nothing, but this is so. Ofh. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approved good masters, 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 w^asted, they have used Their dearest action in the tented field; — jg And little of t his great world can I speak , ~^?^'''^ ^-^^ £ More than pertains to feats of broil and batu^ ^^ And therefore httle shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious pa- tience, 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; I VcJuX^*. Of spirit so still and quiet that her motion a Blush'd at herself ; and she — in spite of nature, ^oflwlftucji Of years, of country, credit, every thing — To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on! It is a judgement maim'd and most imperfect. That will confess perfection so could err 100 Against all rules of nature; and must be driven To find out practices of cunning hell, Why this should be. I therefore vouch again, That wqth some mixtures powerful o'er the blood, Or with some dram conjured to this effect, 39 Act I. Sc. iii. TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO, He wrought upon her. Duke. To vouch this, is no proof, Without more certain and more overt test Than these thin habits and poor hkeHhoods Of modern seeming do prefer against him. First Sen. But, Othello, speak: no Did you by indirect and forced courses Subdue and poison this young maid's affections? Or came it by request, and such fair question As soul to soul affordeth? 0th. 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 0th. Ancient, conduct them; you best know the place. [Exeunt lago 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 in mine. Duke. Say it, Othello. 0th. Her father loved me, oft invited me, Still questioned me the story of my life From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, 130 That I have pass'd. I ran it through, even from my boyish days To the very moment that he bade me tell it: 40 THE MOOR OF VENICE Act I. Sc. iii. Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, taQLcfli Of moving accidents by flood and held, H ^ Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach, T Of being taken by the insolent foe, »p J'^ And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence, '^^**-«» f^ And portance in my travels' history: ^'<^c9QtA< Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, 140^^^**'^ Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch '^^'*^^*' heaven, ^ye^^o^ It was my hint to speak, — such was the process ; "^^^^QBtfte^d And of the Cannibals that each other eat, -»<- The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear Would Desdemona seriously incline: But still the house-afifairs 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 suffer'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, 41 Act I. Sc. iii. TRAGEDY OF 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: She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd, 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 mistress: 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: 1 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 Due to the Moor my lord. Bra. God be with you! I have done. Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs: 190 42 THE MOOR OF VENICE Act I. Sc. iii. 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 sentence i Jfj Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers 200 r ^ Into your favour. When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the w^orst, which late on hopes depended. To mourn a mischief that is past and gone 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 ^'Y, We lose it not so long as we can smile. 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 borrow. These ^^VftM^e'^f^sugar or to gall, Juu^^^d^ Being strong on both sides, are equivocal: ^f ^^juLfJi^dbx^ 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 afifairs of state. Duke. The Turk with a most mighty preparation 221 makes for Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the 43 ^ rt-^ Act I. Sc. iii. TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO. 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 bois- terous expedition. 0th. The tyrant custom, most grave senators, 230 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, I crave fit disposition for my wife, Due reference of place and exhibition. With such accommodation and besort As levels with her breeding. Duke. If you please, 240 Be 't at her father's. Bra. I '11 not have it so. 0th. Nor I. Des. Nor I, I would not there reside. To put my father in impatient thoughts By being in his eye. Most gracious dukc^ 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? Dcs. That I did love the Moor to live with him. My downright violence and storm of fortunes 250 May trumpet to the world : my heart 's subdued 44 THE MOOR OF VENICE Act I. Sc. iii. Even to the very quality of my lord: I 5aw Othello's visage in his mind, And to his honours 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 By his dear absence. Let me go with him. 260 0th. Let her have your voices. 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 Of feather'd Cupid seel with wanton dullness 270 My speculative and officed instruments, That my disports corrupt and taint my business, Let housewives make a skillet of m.y 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 afifair cries haste, And speed must answer 't; you must hence to-night. Des. To-night, my lord? Duke. This night. 0th. With all my heart. Duke. At nine i' the morning here we '11 meet again. 280 Othello, leave some officer behind, 45 Act I. Sc. iii. TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO. And he shall our commission bring to you; With such things else of quality and respect' As doth import you. 0th. So please your grace, my ancient; A man he is of honesty and trust: 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. "^ jGood night to every one. [To Brah.] And, noble