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 fpeak enough of this content,
It ftops me here: it is too much of joy.
And this, and this, the greatest difcords be
That e'er our hearts fhall make !

[Kiffing her.

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

[Afide.

Oth. Come, let's to the caftle. Now, friends, our wars are done; the Turks are drown'd. How do our old acquaintance of this isle? Honey, you fhall be well defir'd in Cyprus, I've found great love amongst them.

I prattle out of fashion, and I dote

Oh my Sweet,

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

Manent Iago and Rodorigo.

Iago. Do you meet me prefently at the harbour. Come thither, if thou be'it valiant; (as, they say, bafe 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. Firft, I must tell thee, this Defdemona 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 first lov'd the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her fantastical lies. And will the love him ftill for prating? let not

thy

thy difcreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed. And what delight fhall fhe have to look on the Devil? (16) when the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there fhould be again to inflame it, and to give Satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness 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 it felf abus'd, begin to heave the gorge, difrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will inftruct her in it, and compel her to fome fecond choice. Now, Sir, this granted, (as it is a moft 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 meer form of civil and humane Seeming, for the better compaffing of his falt and most hidden loose affection; a flippery and fubtile knave, a finder of occafions, that has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages, tho' true advantage never prefent it felf. 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 knave!

and the woman hath found him already.,

Rod. I cannot believe that of her, the's full of most bleís'd condition.

(16) When the Blood is made dull with the Alt of Sport, there fhould be a Game to inflame it, and to give Satiety a fre Appetite; loveliness in Favour, Sympathy in Tears, 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 raise 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 Pleasure, there should be proper Incentives on each side to raise it again, as the Charms of Beauty, Equality of Years, and Agreement of Manners and Difpofition: which are wanting in Othelle to rekindle Defdemona's Paffion,

VOL. VIII.

M

Iags.

Iago. Blefs'd figs' end! the wine fhe drinks is made of grapes. If the had been blefs'd, fhe would never have lov'd the Moor: Blefs'd pudding! didst thou not fee her paddle with the palm of his hand ? didst not mark that?

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

Jago. 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. Villanous thoughts, Rodorigo! when these mutualities fo marfhal the way, hard at hand comes the mafter and main exercife, the incorporate conclufion : pifh 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. Caffio 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 courfe you please, which the time fhall more favourably minister.

Rod. Well.

Iago. Sir, he's rafh, and very fudden in choler: and, happily, may ftrike at you. Provoke him, that he may s for even out of that will I caufe thofe of Cyprus to mu tiny whofe qualification fhall come into no true tafte 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.

lago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel. I muft fetch his neceffaries afhore. Farewel.

Rod. Adieu.

Manet Iago.

[Exit.

Jago. That Caffio loves her, I do well believe: That the 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 poifonous 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 jealousie 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 Caffio 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 quiet,

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 Trab: but what Confonance of Metaphor is there betwixt Trash, and quick hunting, and standing the putting on? The Allufion to the Chafe SHAKESPEARE feems to be fond of applying to Roderigo, who says of himself towards the Conclufion of this Act;

I follow her in the Chafe, not like a Hound that hunts, but ne 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. Warburton.

Even to madness. 'Tis here

but yet confus'd;

Knavery's plain face is never seen, till us'd.

Her.

SCENE, the STREET.

I

Enter Herald with a Proclamation.

[Exit.

T is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant General, that upon certain tidings now arriv'd, importing the meer perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into triumph fome to dance, fome to make bonfires, each man to what fport and revels his mind leads him. For, befides this beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptials. So much was his pleafure, fhould be proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full liberty of feasting, from this prefent hour of five, 'till the bell have told eleven. Blefs the ifle of Cyprus, and our noble General Othello!

SCENE, the CASTLE.

Enter Othello, Desdemona, Caffio, and Attendants.

Oth.

OOD Michael, look you to the guard to night,

G°°

Let's teach our felves that honourable stop,
Not to out-fport difcretion.

Caf. Iago hath direction what to do:

But, notwithstanding, with my perfonal eye)
Will I look to't.

Oth. Iago is most honeft :

Michael, good-night. To morrow, with your earlieft, Let me have fpeech with you. Come, my dear love, The purchase made, the fruits are to enfue;

That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you.

Good-night.

[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.

Enter Iago.

Caf. Welcome, Iago; we must to the Watch.
Jago. Not this hour, lieutenant: 'tis not yet ten o'th'

clock.