My friend, thy busband, bonest, bonest Jago. I pynt 9H mil. If he fay fo, may his pernicious foulwon! I Rot half a grain a day! he lyes of th heart of 992 She was too fond of her moft filthy bargain. ogol

I.

Oth. Hah! Held bauot od tadw and 1 Emil. Do thy worst. poy bib ma limbs. This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven, oyal Than thou waft worthy her. blos voY in Oth. Peace, you were beft.vis Jool ym og J „09J Emil. Thou haft not half that power to do me

harm,

As I have to be hurt. Oh gull! oh dolt!
As ignorant as dirt! thou'ft done a deed-
I care not for thy fword, I'll make thee known,
Though I loft twenty lives-Help! help, hoa help!
The Moor hath kill'd my mistress. Murder, murder!

Enter Montano Gratiano, Iago, and others.

Mon. What is the matter? How now, General? Emil. Oh, are you come, Iago? you have done

well,

That men muft lay their murders on your neck.
Gra. What is the matter?

Emil. Difprove this villain, if thou be'ft a man;

9 Thou haft not half that power to do me harm, As I have to be burt:-] Power for will: For will fignifying both ability and inclination, and power fignifying ability, he uses power for inclination. But the Oxford Editor, not understanding his author's phrafeology any better when he had ended than when he had begun with him, al

ters, As I have to be hurt, to, As I have to bear hurt: which yet does not mend the matter, had the poet here used power in the fenfe of ability.

WARD.

The Oxford editor faw well the meaning of his authour, but weakened his expreffion. She means to say, I have in this caufe power to endure more than thou baft power to infli.

He fays, thou toldft him that his wife was falfe:
I know, thou didst not; thou'rt not fuch a villain.
Speak, for my heart is full.

Iago. I told him what I thought; and told no more, Than what he found himself was apt and true.

Emil. But did you ever tell him, fhe was falfe?Iago. I did. Vahor

Emil. You told a lye; an odious, damned, lye; Upon my foul, a lye; a wicked lye.

She falfe with Caffio? Did you fay, with Caffio?
Iago. With Caffio, miftrefs. Go to.

tongue.

Charm your

Emil. I will not charm my tongue; I'm bound to fpeak;

My miftrefs lies bere murder'd in her bed.

All. Ob beavens forefend!

Emil. And your reports have fet the murderer on.
Oth. Nay, ftare not, mafters. It is true, indeed.
Gra. 'Tis a ftrange truth.

Mon. Ob monstrous act!

Emil. Villainy! villainy! villainy!

I think upon't

Ithink

•Ifmell't

I thought fo then I'll kill myself for grief,

Oh villainy, villainy!

Ob villainy!

Iago, What, are you mad? I charge you, get you

home.

Emil. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak. 'Tis proper I obey him, but not now.

Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home.

Oth.

Orb, Oh oh oh down Othello falls on the bed.
Emil. Nay, lay thee down and roar :

For thou haft kill'd the sweetest Innocent,

That e'er did lift up eye.

Oth. Oh, fhe was foul!

[Rifing I fcarce did know you, Uncle. There lies your Niece, Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd. I know, this act fhews horrible and grim.

Gra. Poor Desdemona! I'm glad, thy father's dead:
Thy match was mortal to him; and pure grief
Shore his old thread in twain. Did he live now,
This fight would make him do a defperate turn;
Yea, curfe his better Angel from his fide,
And fall to reprobation.

Oth. 'Tis pitiful; but yet lago knows,
That the with Caffio had the act of fhame
A thousand times committed. Caffio confeft it;
And fhe did gratify his amorous works,
With that recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her; I faw it in his hand;
It was an handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.

Emil. Oh heaven! oh heavenly Powers!
Iago. Come, hold your peace.

Emil. 'Twill out, 'twill out-I hold my peace?
Sir! no!

No, I will fpeak as liberal as the North;

Let heaven, and men, and devils, let them all,
All, all cry fhame against me, yet I'll fpeak.
Jago. Be wife, and get you home.

Emil. I will not.

[lago offers to ftab his wife.

Gra. Fy, your fword upon a woman?

Emil. Oh, thou dull Moor! That handkerchief, thou speak❜ft of,

I found by fortune, and did give my husband;

A thousand times committed.--] comprised in the action of this This is another paffage which play than the scenes include. feems to fuppofe a longer space

For

For often, with a folemn earnestnefs,

More than, indeed, belong'd to fuch a trifle,
He begg'd of me to steal it.

Jago Villainous whore!

Emil. She gave it Caffio?-alas, I found it,

And I did giv't my husband.

や

Jago. Filth, thou lieft.

Emil. By heav'n, I do not; I do not, gentlemen, Oh murd❜rous coxcomb! what fhould fuch a fool Do with fo good a wife?

[The Moor runs at Iago, who breaks through and wounds his wife; then runs out.

Oth.

Are there no ftones in heav'n,

But what ferve for the thunder? Precious villain! Gra. The woman falls; fure, he has killed his wife. Emil. Ay, ay; oh, lay me by my mistress' fide. Gra. He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.

Mon. 'Tis a notorious villain; take this weapon, Which I have here recover'd from the Moor. Come, guard the door without, let him not pafs, But kill him rather. I'll after that fame villain, For 'tis à damned flave.

[Exeunt Mon. and Gra.

Oth. I am not valiant neither;
But every puny whipfter gets my fword.
But why fhould honour out-live honesty?
Let it go all.

Emil. What did thy Song bode, lady?

Hark, can't thou hear me? I will play the fwan,
And die in mufick. Willow, Willow, Willow
Moor, fhe was chafte; she lov'd thee, cruel Moor';
So come my foul to blifs, as I fpeak true;
So fpeaking as I think, alas, I die.

[Æmilia dies.
Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber,
It was a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper;
Oh, here it is. Uncle I must come forth.

Gra. [within.] If thou attempt it, it will coft thee dear;

Thou haft no weapon, and perforce muft fuffer.
Oth. Look in upon me then, and speak with me,
Or, naked as I am, I will affault thee.

Re-enter Gratiano.

Gra. What is the matter?
Oth. Lo! I have a weapon:
A better never did itself fuftain

Upon a foldier's thigh. I've feen the day,
That with this little arm, and this good fword,
I've made my way thro' more impediments,
Than twenty times your ftop. But, oh vain boaft!
What can controul his fate? 'tis not fo now.
Be not afraid, though you do fee me weapon'd;
Here is my journey's end, here is my Butt,
The very fea-mark of my utmost fail.
Do you go back difmay'd? 'tis a loft fear:
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,

4—the icebrook's temper ;] In the first edition it is, febroke's temper. Thence corrupted, to Ice-brook's.-Ebro's temper; the waters of that river of Spain, are particularly famous for tempering of fteel. The fineft arms in the

world are the Catalonian fusees.

POPE.

I believe the old reading changed to ice-brook is right. Steel is hardened by being put red hot into very cold water.