Utter my thoughts!-Why, fay, they're vile and falfe;
As where's that Palace, whereunto foul things
Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure,
But fome uncleanly apprehenfions

Keep leets and law-days, and in feffions fit

With meditations lawful?

Oth. Thou doft confpire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think'ft him wrong'd, and mak'st his ear A ftranger to thy thoughts.

Iago. I do befeech you,

Though, I perchance, am vicious in my guefs,
(As, I confefs, it is my nature's plague
To fpy into abufe; and oft my jealoufy
Shapes faults that are not;) I intreat you then,
From one that fo imperfectly conceits,

Your wisdom would not build yourself a trouble
Out of my scattering and unfure obfervance :
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, and wisdom,
To let you know my thoughts.

Oth. What doft thou mean?

Iago. Good name in man and woman, dear my Lord,

Is the immediate jewel of their fouls.

Who steals my purfe, fteals trash; 'tis fomething, nothing; (34)

(34) Who fieals my purse, fleals trash 'tis fomet bing, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis bis; and has been flave to thousands.

Of riches, and other temporal poffeffions, being uncertain,and often changing their masters, we meet with feveral paffages in the Claffics, which might have given our Author a hint for this fentiment. Nunc ager Umbreni fub nomine, nuper Ofelli

Di&tus, erit nulli proprius ; fed cedet in ufum
Nunc mihi, nunc alii.

Horat. Serm. lib. ii. 2.

This Lucian feems to have imitated in an epigram.
̓Αγρός ̓Αχαιμενίδε γενόμεν πολὲ, νῦν δὲ Μενίππε,

Καὶ πάλιν ἐξ ἑτέρα βήσομαι εἰς ἕλξον.

Καὶ γὰρ ἐκεῖνον ἔχειν με πολ μέλος καὶ πάλιν ὗτος
Οιεται, εἰμὶ δ ̓ ὅλως ἐδένος αλλά τύχης.
Nil froprium ducas, quod mutarier poteft.

Ουκ διδ ̓ ὅτῳ πέποιθας αργυρία, πάτερ.
Ο καιρὸς ὁ τυχῶν τοῖς μὲν εἰ κεκλημένοις
Εδωκε, τῶν κεκλημένων δ' αφείλετο.
Χρήματα δ' ἀνθρώπων ἄλλοτε ἄλλος ἔχει,

Publ. Syrus.

Apollodorus.,
Solon.

'Twas

'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been flave to thousands;
But he, that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that, which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.

Oth, I'll know thy thoughts

lago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand; Nor thall not, whilft 'tis in my cuftody. Oth. Ha!

Iago. Oh, beware, my Lord, of jealoufy; It is a green-ey'd monfter, which doth mock The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss, Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; But, oh, what damned minutes tells he o'er, Who doats, yet doubts; fufpects, yet ftrongly loves! Oth. Oh misery!

lago. Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough; But riches endless, is as poor as winter,

To him that ever fears he shall be poor.

Good heav'n! the fouls of all my tribe defend
From jealoufy!

Oth. Why? why is this?

Think't thou, I'd make a life of jealoufy?

To follow ftill the changes of the moon

With fresh fufpicions? No; to be once in doubt,
Is once to be refolv'd. Exchange me for a goat,
When I fhall turn the business of my foul

To fuch exfufficate and blown furmifes,
Matching thy inference. "Tis not to make me jealous,
To fay, my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
Is free of fpeech, fings, plays, and dances well;
Where virtue is, these are most virtuous.
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt;
For fhe had eyes, and chofe me. No, lago,
I'll fee, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And, on the proof, there is no more but this,
Away at once with love, or jealoufy.

Iago. I am glad of this; for now I fhall have reafon To fhew the love and duty that I bear you

With franker spirit. Therefore, as I'm bound,

Receive

Receive it from me. I fpeak not yet of proof.
Look to your wife, obfeive her well with Caffio;
Wear your eye, thus: not jealous, nor fecure;
I would not have your free and noble nature
Qut of felf-bounty be abus'd: look to't.
I know our country difpofition well;

In Venice they do let heav'n fee the pranks,
They dare not fhew their hufbands; their best confcience
Is not to leav't undone, but keep't unknown.

Oth. Dolt thou fay fo?

Iago. She did deceive her father, marrying you; And when the feem'd to shake, and fear your looks, She lov'd them most.

Oth. And fo fhe did.
Iago. Go to then ;

She, that, fo young, could give out fuch a feeming To feal her father's eyes up, close as oak

He thought, 'twas witchcraft-but I'm much to blame': I humbly do befeech you of your pardon,

For too much loving you.

Oth. I'm bound to you for ever.

Lag. I fee, this hath a little dafh'd your fpirits.
Oth. Not a jot, not a jot.

Iago. Trust me, I fear, it has :

I hope, you will confider, what is fpoke

Comes from my love. But I do fee you're mov'd→ 1 am to pray you, not to ftrain my speech To groffer iffues, nor to larger reach,

Than to fufpicion.

Oth. I will not.

Iago. Should you do fo, my Lord, (35)

(35) Should you do fo, my Lord,

My Speech would fall into fuch vile excess,

Which my thoughts aim rot at.] This is Mr. Pope's reading, and, I am afraid, as errone us as it is unauthoriz'd. For, fuppofe, O.bello were to believe all that Iago told him on fufpicion, how would Jego's freech fall into the worfe excefs thereupon? All the old copies, that I have feen, read, fuccefs: and this is certainly the Author's meaning. "If you should believe all I have faid, my speech would "fucceed worfe, have more vile confequences in your refentiment "against your wife, than I had any aim, or purpose, to excite." VOL. VIII.

My

My fpeech would fall into fuch vile fuccefs,
Which my thoughts aim not at.

My Lord, I fee you're mov'd

Oth. No, not much mov'd

Caffio's my worthy

I do not think, but Desdemona's honeft,

[friend,

Iago. Long live fhe fo! and long live you to think so!
Oth. And yet, how Nature erring from itself-
Iago. Ay, there's the point ;-as (to be bold with you)
Not to affect many propofed matches

Of her own clime, complexion and degree,
Whereto we fee in all things Nature tends:
Foh! one may fmell, in fuch, a will most rank,
Foul difproportions, thoughts unnatural.
But, pardon me, I do not in pofition
Diftinctly speak of her; tho' I may fear,
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
May fall to match you with her country forms,
And, haply, fo repent.

Oth. Farewel, farewel;

If more thou doft perceive, let me know more;
Set on thy wife t'obferve. Leave me, Iago.
Iago. My Lord, I take my leave.

Oth. Why did I marry?

This honeft creature, doubtless,

[Going.

Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
Iago. My Lord, I would, I might entreat your Honour
To fcan this thing no farther; leave it to time :
Altho' 'tis fit that Caffio have his place,
For, fure, he fills it up with great ability;
Yet if you please to hold him off a while,
You fhall by that perceive him, and his means;
Note, if your lady ftrain his entertainment
With any ftrong, or vehement importunity;
Much will be feen in that. In the mean time,
Let me be thought too bufy in my fears,
(As worthy cause I have to fear, I am ;)
And hold her free, I do befeech your Honour.
Oth. Fear not my government.
Iago. I once more take my leave.

[Exit.

Manet

Manet Othello.

Oth. This fellow 's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings. If I prove her haggard,
Tho' that her jeffes were my dear heart-ftrings,
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I'm black,
And have not those foft parts of conversation
That chamberers have; or, for I am declin'd
Into the vale of years, yet that's not much-
She's gone, I am abus'd, and my relief
Must be to loath her. Oh the curfe of marriage!
That we can call thefe delicate creatures ours,
And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
Than keep a corner in the thing I love,
For others' use. Yet 'tis the plague of Great ones;
Prerogativ'd are they lefs than the bafe;
'Tis deftiny unfhunable, like death.

Ev'n then, this forked plague is fated to us,
When we do quicken. Desdemona comes!

Enter Desdemona and Æmilia.

If the be falfe, oh, then heav'n mocks itself:
I'll not believ't.

Def. How now, my dear Othello?

Your dinner, and the generous islanders,
By you invited, do attend your presence.
Oth. I am to blame.

Def. Why do you speak fo faintly?

Are you not well ?

Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here.

Def. Why, that's with watching, 'twill away again; Let me but bind it hard, within this hour

It will be well.

Oth. Your napkin is too little;

[She drops her handkerchief.

Let it alone: come, I'll go in with you.

Def, I am very forry, that you are not well. [Exeunt.

02

Manet