SCENE changes to an Apartment in the Palace.

Oth.

Enter Othello and Emilia.

OU have feen nothing then?

You

Emil. Nor ever heard, nor ever did fufpect. Oth. Yes, you have feen Caffio and her together, Emil. But then I faw no harm; and then I heard Each fyllable, that breath made up between them. Oth. What did they never whisper ?

Emil. Never, my Lord.

Oth. Nor fend you out of the way ?

Emil. Never.

[thing?

Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor noEmil. Never, my Lord.

Oth. That's ftrange!

Emil. I durft, my Lord, to wager she is honest.. Lay down my foul at stake: if you think other, Remove your thought, it doth abuse your bofom. If any wretch hath put this in your head, Let heav'n requite it with the ferpent's curse! For if the be not honeft, chaste and true,

fynonymous; but that the Poet intended two different things, feems plain from the discretive adverb. Chance may afflict a man in fome circumftances; but other diftreffes are to be accounted for from a different caufe. I am perfuaded our Author wrote;

The foot of accident, nor dart of change, &c.

And, in feveral other places, our Poet induftriously puts these two words in oppofition to each other.

Which fhackles accident, and bolts up change. Anto. & Cleop.
-How chances mock,

And changes fill the cup of alteration:

2 Henry IV.

Tho' chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer.

Tit. Andron.

So Milton, a very ftudious imitator of Shakespeare's manner and expreffion;

Befides, what hope the never-ending flight

Of future days may bring, what chance, what change,
Worth waiting:

Par. Loft. Bo. II.

In brief fententious precepts while they treat
Of fate,, and chance, and change in human life.

P 3

Par. Reg. Bo. IV.

There's

There's no man happy; the pureft of their wives

Is foul as flander.

Oth. Bid her come hither, go.

[Exit Emilia.

She fays enough; yet fhe's a fimple bawd,

That cannot fay as much. This is a fubtle whore,
A closet lock and key of villainous fecrets ;

And yet she'll kneel, and pray: I've seen her do't.
Enter Defdemona and Emilia.

Def. My Lord, what is your will?
Otb. Pray you, chuck, come hither.
Def. What is your pleasure ?

Oth. I et me fee your eyes; look in my face.
Def. What horrible fancy's this?

Oth. Some of your function, mistress:
Leave procreants alone, and fhut the door,
Cough, or cry, hem, if any body come.

Your mystery, your myftery;-nay, difpatch. [Exit Em:
Def. Upon my knee, what doth your fpeech import
I understand a fury in your words,

But not your words.

Oth. Why? what art thou?

Def Your wife, my Lord; your true and loyal wife. Qih. Come, fwear it; damn thyfelf; left, being like one Of heav'n, the devils themfelves fhould fear to feize thee. Therefore be double-damn'd; fwear, thou art honest. Def Heav'n doth truly know it. Oth. Heav'n truly knows,

That thou art falfe as hell.

Def To whom, my Lord?

With whom? how am I falfe?

Oib. Ah, Desdemona! away, away, away.
Def. Alas, the heavy day! why do you weep?
Am I the motive of these tears, my Lord?

If, haply, you my father do fufpect

An inftrument of this your calling back,

Lay not your blame on me; if you have loft him,
Why, I have loft him too.

Oth. Had it pleas'd heav'n

To try me with affliction, had he rain'd

All

All kind of fores and shames on my bare head,
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips,
Giv❜n to captivity me and my hopes;

I should have found in fome place of my foul
A drop of patience. But alas, to make me
A fixed figure for the hand of scorn
To point his flow and moving finger at
Yet could I bear that too, well, very well.
But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,
Where either I must live, or bear no life,
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or elfe dries up; to be difcarded thence;
Or keep it as a ciftern, for foul toads

To knot and gender in: Turn thy complexion there, (47)
Patience, thou young and rofe-lip'd cherubin;
Ay, there, look grim as hell.

Def. I hope, my noble Lord efteems me honest.
Oth. Oh, ay, as fummer flies are in the fhambles,
That quicken ev'n with blowing. Oh thou weed!
Who art fo lovely fair, and fmell'ft fo fweet,
That the fenfe akes at thee-

'Would, thou hadst ne'er been born!

Def. Alas, what ignorant fin have I committed? Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book Made to write whore upon? what, what committed ? Committed?. -ho, thou public commoner! I should make very forges of my cheeks, That would to cinders burn up modefty,

Did I but speak thy deeds. What, what committed ?

(47) -Turn thy complexion there,

Patience, thou young and refe lip'd cherubin ;

I here look grim as bell] The Poet makes an apoftrophe to Patience as a goddess; and is fuppos'd to make Othello bid her turn her complexion and cherubin's looks, because he looks as grim as bell upon the occafion, But I am perfuaded the text has been all along flightly corrupted, by mistaking in the last verse for the pronoun of the first perfon: whereas, in our Author's days, it likewife food for the adverb of affirming. As I have reform'd the text, a pro• per contraft is reftor'd; and Patience is urg'd not only to turn her complexion, to drop the rofy looks of a cherub, but to put on the grim afpect of a fiend.

P 4

Heav'n

Heav'n flops the nofe at it, and the moon winks;
The bawdy wind, that kiffes all it meets,

Is bush'd within the hollow mine of earth, [ftrumpet!
And will not hear't. What committed?-Impudent
Def. By heav'n you do me wrong.
Oth. Are not you a ftrumpet?
Def. No, as I am a chriftian.

If to preferve this veffel for my I ord
From any other, foul, unlawful, touch,
Be not to be a ftrumpet, I am none.
Oth. What, not a whore ?

Def. No, as I fhall be faved.
Oth. Is't poffible?

Def. Oh, heav'n forgive us!
Oth. I cry you mercy, then.

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello.

Enter Æmilia.

You, mi refs,

That have the office oppofite to St. Peter,
And keep the gate of hell; You! you! ay, you!
We have done our courfe, there's money for your pains,
I pray you turn the key, and keep our counfel [Exit.
Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?
How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?
Def Faith, half afleep.

Amil. Good madam, what's the matter with my
Def. With whom?

Amil. Why, with my Lord, madam ?

Def. Who is thy Lord?

Emil. He that is yours, fweet lady.

[Lord?

Def. I have none; do not talk to me, Emilia.

I cannot weep; nor anfwer have I none,

But what should go by water. Pray, to-night
Lay on my bed my wedding fheets, remember;
And call thy husband hither.

Emil. Here's a change indeed!

[Exit.

How

Def. 'Tis meet I fhould be used so, very meet:

How have I been behav'd, that he might stick
The fmalt opinion of my leaft mifufe?

Enter Iago, and Æmilia.

Iago. What is your pleasure, Madam ? how is't with you?

Def. I cannot tell; thofe, that do teach your babes, Do it with gentle means, and eafy tasks;

He might have chid me fo: for, in good faith,
I am a child to chiding.

Iago. What's the matter, lady?

Emil. Alas, Iago, my Lord hath fo bewhor'd her,. Thrown fuch defpight and heavy terms upon her, That true hearts cannot bear it.

Def. Am I that name, lago?
Iago. What name, fair lady?

Def. Such, as, fhe faid, my Lord did fay I was. Emil. He call'd her whore; a beggar in his drink, Could not have laid fuch terms upon his callet. Iago. Why did he fo?

Def. I do not know; I'm fure, I am none fuch. Iago. Do not weep, do not weep; alas, the day! Emil. Hath fhe forfook fo many noble matches? Her father? and her country? and her friends? To be call'd whore? would it not make one weep? Def. It is my wretched fortune. [him? Iago. Befhrew him for't! how comes this trick upon Def. Nay, heav'n doth know.

Emil. I will be hang'd, if fome eternal villain,
Some bufy and infinuating rogue,

Some cogging, cozening flave, to get fome office,
Has not devis'd this flander: I'll be hang'd elfe.
Iago. Fie, there is no fuch man; it is impoffible.
Def. If any fuch there be, heav'n pardon him!
Emil. A halter pardon him, and hell gnaw his bones!
Why should he call her whore? who keeps her company?
What place? what time? what form? what likelihood?
The Moor's abus'd by fome most villainous knave,
Some base notorious knave, fome fcurvy fellow.
Oh heav'n, that fuch companions thou?dst unfold,

P 5.

And